“We didn’t have a lot, but it didn’t matter because she made me feel safe and loved. We had more than we should have, though.”

“Your father?” Caine deduced.

I looked up at him, searching his face for a reaction to our conversation. He seemed contemplative, not agitated like I’d half expected him to be. “Yes. He gave my mom money.”

“And Good Harbor? Your mother lived in Connecticut. I find it more than coincidental that your only vacation with her was in Good Harbor … near your father.”

I smirked unhappily. “She grew up in Boston, so this place was familiar to her, but … yeah, my father showed up toward the end of our vacation. Before he turned up, my mom and I spent every day on the beach.” I smiled. “It was heaven. We goofed around and just hung out. My mom never spoke to me like I was a little kid, you know. She had actual conversations with me.

“Her parents died when she was a baby and her aunt raised her in Boston. She told me this story about when she was a little girl. One summer her aunt took her to Good Harbor. My mom told me that her aunt had to take her home from the beach and she refused to go back. When I asked why, she said that there was a little boy there and he kept jabbing this stick into an injured seagull. My mom got really upset and so her aunt asked the little boy why he was tormenting the bird. And he said that a seagull had swooped down and taken his last piece of fried dough the day before. He’d found this injured one and decided it just might be the offending seagull. So while it was hurt, he was exacting his little-boy vengeance. My mom said to the little boy that he should forgive and let the poor creature alone, and his answer was to jab at it even harder. My mom burst into tears and her aunt took her away. Mom refused to go back to the beach.

“I don’t even know why she told me that story … but I remember it sticking with me for a while.” I blinked back the burn of tears. “Now I can’t seem to get it out of my head.”

We walked along the shore in silence for a few seconds and then the heat of Caine’s skin met the coolness of mine as he laced our fingers together and clasped my hand in his. I didn’t say a word to acknowledge the gesture. I just held on.

“She was a sweet person,” I said. “A good person. But around my dad she changed. Our vacation at Good Harbor ended abruptly after my father showed up. Everything was okay the first day—more than okay, it was exhilarating like always. But the next day he was suddenly gone and my mom wouldn’t stop crying. She packed us up and cut the vacation short. It was kind of a theme as the years wore on.”

“Do you forgive her? For abandoning you for him?”

“I don’t know. She stopped being the mom I had when I was a kid. She put him before me.”

“She was human. She was flawed, Lexie. It doesn’t mean she didn’t love you.” He squeezed my hand. “Perhaps you should stop poking that seagull.”

My step faltered.

Caine smiled kindly. “She’s gone. It’s done. The only one you’re hurting here is you, baby.”

I blinked back more tears and squeezed his hand in return. “How did you get so wise?” I gave a halfhearted teasing laugh.

“I’ve always been very wise.” He tugged me gently back into step with him. “My mom was the same around my dad.”

It took every ounce of self-control I had not to trip in surprise at him mentioning his mother. As far as I was aware, this was a completely taboo subject. I kept utterly quiet, hoping he’d continue.

“My mom was a different person around my dad,” he admitted somberly. “It was like she was trying to be who she thought he wanted her to be.”

Tentatively I asked, “What she did … the choices that she made … did they shock you?”

“Yeah.” He stared out at the water as we walked and I studied his profile, looking for any signs that he was upset. But he seemed perfectly calm. “I was just a kid. I had no idea she was that selfish. It was just like you with your mom. You thought she was a superhero, right? Until you grew up. For me … I just happened to have the truth knocked into me a bit young.” He looked at me. “Do you want to know how I get through?”

I held my breath and nodded. I was transfixed. Awed. Gratified.

Caine was confiding in me.

“I concentrate on all the good things. Because people aren’t just one thing. Your mom wasn’t just weak and selfish and neither was mine. Your mom wasn’t unhappy all the time and neither was mine. There were times when my mother was more alive than anyone I ever met.

“She was obsessed with the color yellow. Wore it nearly every day, even if it was just a ribbon in her hair. And she had a ton of yellow ribbons.” He smiled softly, his gaze reflective. “She kept them in this cheap little jewelry box I won at a school fair.

“And she made everything an event. Even Sunday morning breakfast. She had this yellow dress … like a fifties dress. Dad and I would get up in the morning and there she was, in that dress, smiling as she made baked goods for breakfast. Not eggs and bacon, none of that. It was cakes and pastries and muffins. Because me and Dad had a sweet tooth.”

I fought back the tears at the thought of Caine’s happy childhood with a mother who sounded vivacious and caring.

“Dad was always saying how beautiful she was. How I had the most beautiful mom in the world. And I’d feel proud walking down the street with her. I’d feel proud as she walked me into school, because I had the most beautiful mom in the world.