The Stone Family Heart - Taylor Hart Page 0,2

the plastic with her name on it and opened it.

Thank you. We love you—Ava and Trey

Sweet. Kensi pulled open the plastic and found some beach sand lotion that smelled of coconut and tangerine. She pulled out a framed photograph of the old beach crew. Warmth filled her. The memory of that night flashed back to her. It’d been her and Trey’s sixteenth birthday, August tenth. They had always shared that birthday with the beach crew.

She squinted to pick out the details, and a rush of flutters went through her. Her teenage self was sporting her red bikini and perched on Tim Tucker’s shoulders. They’d all been chicken-fighting out in the ocean, and her and Trey’s mother had insisted they come out for a picture. Kensi and Tim had whipped everyone’s butts that day.

Ava was also on top of Trey’s shoulders, and there were a few more piggybacking couples: Marshall with Kat, Brooks with Dawn, and Hunter with Cheryse. She peered closer, but she couldn’t pick out who was on Trent’s shoulders. She smirked. Both Hunter and Trent had always fought over Cheryse.

Gently, she pressed her finger to the image of Tim. Dang, she’d been so in love with him then. Too bad she’d always had more of a crush on him than he’d had on her. She thought of talking with him at Ava and Trey’s wedding. He’d looked so different, yet the same. So much older. They were the same age, but she never thought of herself as that old.

Her amusement died when she thought of seeing Tim briefly at her mother’s funeral. The memory forced her to put down the picture. Tim had been in uniform. There had been so much rain. She’d been alone under the umbrella, and he’d pulled her into a hug.

At first, she’d been startled by how different he’d looked. He’d grown a mustache. His towheaded blond hair had faded to an ash blond, and it was cut tight to his head. He’d looked … grown-up. Later, her friend Lucy had filled her in about Tim’s wife passing away the year before. It made sense that he’d looked older after all he’d been through.

She put the picture down and popped open the lotion, squeezing a bit on her palms and rubbing it into her skin. The scent was delicious. The tangerine was a bit heavier than the coconut, and she liked it.

The beach.

Slowly, she meandered around the house, pausing at the newly installed French doors next to the dining area. There, she stared out at the beach. How long had it been since she’d been out on a beach? Not including Trey and Ava’s wedding, which she’d only come one day for. It’d been years. Years.

Dang.

Tonight she would go for a swim, she told herself, and the resolve had her energy picking up. Yes, she would give the house a cursory glance to make sure everything was in order, and then she would go to the beach.

Kensi rushed down the hall and then back to peek into the ballroom. Perfect. She took her bag and climbed the long stairway to the second floor, where she checked all eight rooms before ending up in her mermaid room. To her surprise, a huge mural was painted on the wall, depicting a mermaid. Between the long, flowing red hair and the facial features, the mermaid had a distinct look that reminded Kensi of herself.

Another note rested on her bed. Yes, it’s made after you.

She laughed and changed into her swimsuit. Then she saw the box on her dresser and another note.

I thought you’d want these. I found them in the attic. Trey

When she opened the box, she laughed with delight. Inside were stacks of notebooks. The notebooks she used to write her stories in. She had loved writing short beach romances when she was a teenager, and when they’d come to South Port, she’d spent a fair amount of time obsessed with doing just that.

She opened one of the notebooks and found a silly story about her brothers, Trent and Hunter, and their little love triangle with Cheryse. Ha. It had been a true story. She’d been observing the junior high tryst all summer as the boys worked hard to vie for the girl’s attention.

She pulled out another notebook.

My love story.

Her heart raced as she thought of herself and Tim. This was the story she’d never finished. Anger surged as she thought of what he’d said to her when she’d told him she’d gotten into Harvard.

Nope. She