Small-Town Homecoming. Lissa Manley

he could barely keep track of them.

      “You always did wish for the moon.” His dad shook his head. “All those dreams of being a musician, when you could have just been content to work at the store.”

      “That was your dream, Dad, not mine,” Curt replied. This was an old bone between them—his dad had wanted Curt and his brothers to work in the store, expecting that one of them would someday take over. They’d had this argument in so many ways over the years Curt had lost count.

      “Yeah, you’ve told me that before.” His dad ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking on end. “You didn’t want anything to do with the Sports Shack, and what did you do with your life instead? Wasted it on drugs.”

      Seth stepped into the fray. “Hey, now—”

      Curt held up a rigid hand. “No, I’ve got this.” While he appreciated Seth speaking up on his behalf, Curt had learned that he needed to fight his own battles—without drugs to numb him or give him false bravado.

      Seth deferred and stepped back, allowing Curt a moment to rein in his temper. Getting angry would only fuel the fire. And prove to his father that he, Curt, was still a hothead. No matter what his dad threw out, Curt had to stay in control of his emotions, even though his gut was churning and he could feel his pulse beating in his head.

      “You’re right, I did waste my life on drugs. You think I don’t know that?” He took a deep breath. “But now I’m looking for a fresh start, and I’ve taken the steps necessary to make that happen.”

      “Fresh start?” His dad gave a derisive laugh. “There is no such thing as a fresh start in life, or I would have made one years ago.”

      Yeah, Dad had never been able to rise above his hardscrabble childhood as an orphan. In fact, he seemed bent on perpetuating the negative cycle of his youth. Or maybe he just didn’t know how to break the circle.

      “That’s your perspective, and you’re entitled to it,” Curt said. “But I have a new view on life, new goals, and I’ll do whatever necessary to achieve them. I have hope that people will see that I’ve changed.”

      His dad snorted, then shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ll have to keep on hoping. I’m not going to let you off the hook, and nobody else in this town is, either. The sooner you realize that, the better.”

      Curt’s shoulders went heavy. He did his best not to give in to the downward pull, and tried to stand tall. But after so much time spent crawling through life, remaining upright and strong was hard. Especially when he had his dad shoving him down. But no one had said returning to Moonlight Cove would be easy. “You’re entitled to your opinion. I only have control over my own actions, so that’s the way I’m rolling.”

      “Good luck with that,” his dad said, giving a mock salute. “You’re gonna need it.” He turned his attention to Seth, dismissing Curt as if he were a fly on the wall. “Did you get that fishing gear I ordered?”

      Seth gave Curt a half-apologetic, half-questioning look, as if to ask if Curt wanted him to intervene.

      Curt shook his head ever so slightly. No. He appreciated his brother’s willingness to defend him, but nothing Seth could say to Dad would make any difference.

      Seth frowned, but then turned his attention to his dad. “Yeah, I did. It’s in my office.” He gestured sharply to the far wall. “Follow me.”

      Without a glance toward Curt, his father trailed Seth to the back, leaving Curt alone. With a heavy sigh he leaned his arms on the front counter and put his head in his hands. Dad’s attitude stung. A lot. He had zero faith in Curt, and had made it clear he wasn’t going to overlook what Curt had done in the past.

      Though Curt hadn’t really expected anything resembling true forgiveness, he’d nurtured a kernel of optimism that Dad had softened his stance in the past ten years. And that perhaps the townspeople would be able to forgive Curt’s past sins. His dad didn’t think that was ever happening.

      Maybe Curt had hoped for too much. He’d torn a path of destruction through town during his teen years and the damage couldn’t be repaired. Maybe he’d always be a pariah: the middle Graham boy who’d barely made it through high school, caused trouble, and had almost killed himself one night twelve years ago while driving drunk.

      Suddenly a vision of Jenna rose in his mind’s eye. What would she say if she found out the truth about him, assuming she didn’t know already? Would she look at him with derision in her eyes, ticking off his faults one by one as she went down her perfect-man checklist?

      Probably.

      A crater formed in his belly.

      Another quandary circled around his brain like a poisonous snake. Had coming back to Moonlight Cove been one giant mistake that would be more easily left behind than dealt with?

      Right now, he was very afraid all of the above was true and that starting over in Moonlight Cove—and hoping for love someday—was an unattainable dream that would never come true. No matter how hard he tried.