The Mistakes I've Made (By the Bay #4)

Prologue - Taylor

Ten Years Earlier

My eyes cracked open, the sun drifting in through the bedroom window as the weight of yesterday's events hit me full on.

I was a high school graduate.

The moment that rolled-up certificate had passed into my hands, it'd felt like a giant weight had been lifted from my chest.

Freedom.

From the town, from the dark shadow my brother had cast over me since birth.

From everything.

I could finally start anew.

Jumping out of bed, I ignored the slight ache from my head caused from too many late-night beers at the dunes last night, and I headed down the hall. I had only a handful of weeks before I headed off to early enrollment at The University of North Carolina in Greensboro.

I didn't want to waste a second of it.

June was the start of peak season in Ocracoke. Soon, this island would be filled with pretty, young tourists stuck on family vacations, bored out of their minds, with nothing to do.

And I was just the one to liberate them from the monotony.

Nothing like having your own personal tour guide around the island, right? And I even offered my services for free.

Although tipping was strongly encouraged. Especially the physical kind.

Wearing only a pair of pajama pants, I took the stairs two at a time toward the kitchen in the large, old house where I'd spent my childhood. The hardwood floor creaked as I hit the bottom step with a thud.

No need to be quiet. It was almost noon after all.

Going straight for the cereal, I reached for the largest bowl I could find and poured an embarrassing amount of Apple Jacks into it, but I found myself disappointed when only a handful fell out.

"Hey Ma! Do we have any more Apple Jacks?" I called out.

No one answered.

It was a Saturday, which meant she should be home. She often left the family's fishing business to a few trusted employees over the weekend, choosing to spend her time with her boys and God. Although, now that we were older, she usually dedicated most of the weekend to the latter.

She still managed to pin us down every Sunday evening for supper though. Not that I minded too much. The woman was a wizard in the kitchen.

Abandoning my half-empty bowl of cereal on the kitchen counter, I wandered down the hall into the living room in search of her. But that proved fruitless as well, so I tried the dining room. No one was there either.

Finally, I heard the sound of chatter just outside on the patio.

Sticking my head around the corner, I caught a glimpse of my older brother, Dean, and the familiar brown curls of my mother as they huddled together over several notebooks spread out over the glass table we sometimes used for cookouts.

Why they were sitting out there in the hot weather was beyond me. It might only be early June, but we were experiencing record heat, and the temperature had probably already surpassed ninety outside. I could see the sweat dripping down my brother's temples as frown lines creased his forehead. And my mom? The look on her face was grim.

No, not grim. It was devastating.

The kid in me—the somewhat selfish teenager who didn't want to ruin his fun-filled day of flirting with tourists and sunbathing at the beach—decided to retreat.