After All Read online

  PRAISE FOR HEIDI MCLAUGHLIN

  The Beaumont Series

  “If you want to read a book that is all heart—full of characters you will instantly connect with and love from the first page to the last—then Forever My Girl is the book for you.”

  —Jenny, Totally Booked Blog

  “Forever My Girl is a sweet, loving, all-around adorable read. If you, like me, have a thing for musicians and reconnections, then this read is for you.”

  —Jacqueline’s Reads

  “This is an utterly moving story of second chances in life, of redemption, remorse, forgiveness, of loves lost and found again, of trust regained. Through alternating points of view, we feel both Liam’s and Josie’s emotions, fears, and sorrow. These are well-developed characters whose love for each other survives time and distance.”

  —Natasha Is a Book Junkie on Forever My Girl

  “My Unexpected Forever completely outdid my expectations and blew Forever My Girl out of the water. My Unexpected Forever is without a doubt a book that I would recommend, and Harrison is officially my new book boyfriend!”

  —Holly’s Hot Reads

  The Beaumont Series: Next Generation

  “Heidi McLaughlin delivers a breathtaking addition to the Beaumont series. Holding Onto Forever is everything you want it to be and so much more. I fell in love all over again.”

  —USA Today bestselling author K. L. Grayson

  “A roller coaster of emotions. McLaughlin takes you on a journey of two hearts that are destined to be together.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Kaylee Ryan

  “Heidi McLaughlin delivers yet another heartfelt, emotional, engaging read! I loved every second of Fighting for Our Forever! You will too!”

  —USA Today bestselling author M. Never

  The Archer Brothers

  “I loved everything about this book. It is an emotional story that will have you begging for more. Even after I finished reading, I can’t stop thinking about it. A must read!”

  —Jamie Rae, author of Call Sign Karma

  “McLaughlin will have you frantically turning pages and make your heart beat faster because each page has something more surprising than the one before it. You’ll be dying to see what happens next!”

  —New York Times bestselling author Jay Crownover

  “I needed this book. I didn’t even realize how much until I read it!”

  —USA Today bestselling author Adriana Locke

  The Boys of Summer

  “Heidi McLaughlin has done it again! Sexy, sweet, and full of heart, Third Base is a winner!”

  —Melissa Brown, author of Wife Number Seven

  “Third Base hits the reading sweet spot. A must read for any baseball and romance fans.”

  —Carey Heywood, author of Him

  “Third Base is sexy and witty and pulls you in from the first page. You’ll get lost in Ethan and Daisy and never want their story to end.”

  —S. Moose, author of Offbeat

  “McLaughlin knocks it out of the park with her second sports contemporary . . . This novel goes above and beyond the typical sports romance with a hot, complex hero and a gutsy, multidimensional heroine. McLaughlin keeps the pace lively throughout, and just when readers think they have the finale figured out, she throws them a few curveballs. This novel will appeal to McLaughlin’s fans and will win her many more.”

  ―Publishers Weekly (starred review) on Home Run

  “Heidi McLaughlin never fails to pull me in with her storytelling, and I assure you she’ll do the same to you! Home Run is a home run, in my book.”

  ―New York Times bestselling author Jen McLaughlin

  “Top Pick! Four and a half stars! McLaughlin has hit the mark with her third Boys of Summer novel. There’s more than one great story line to capture the imagination.”

  ―RT Book Reviews

  OTHER BOOKS BY HEIDI McLAUGHLIN

  THE BEAUMONT SERIES

  Forever My Girl

  My Everything

  My Unexpected Forever

  Finding My Forever

  Finding My Way

  12 Days of Forever

  My Kind of Forever

  Forever Our Boys

  The Beaumont Boxed Set—#1

  THE BEAUMONT SERIES: NEXT GENERATION

  Holding Onto Forever

  My Unexpected Love

  Chasing My Forever

  Peyton & Noah

  Fighting For Our Forever

  THE ARCHER BROTHERS

  Here with Me

  Choose Me

  Save Me

  LOST IN YOU SERIES

  Lost in You

  Lost in Us

  THE BOYS OF SUMMER

  Third Base

  Home Run

  Grand Slam

  Hawk

  THE REALITY DUET

  Blind Reality

  Twisted Reality

  SOCIETY X

  Dark Room

  Viewing Room

  Play Room

  THE CLUTCH SERIES

  Roman

  STAND-ALONE NOVELS

  Stripped Bare

  Blow

  Sexcation

  HOLIDAY NOVELS

  Santa’s Secret

  Christmas With You

  It’s a Wonderful Holiday

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2020 by Heidi McLaughlin

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781542020510

  ISBN-10: 1542020514

  Cover design by Caroline Teagle Johnson

  Without you, these characters wouldn’t exist.

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  EPILOGUE

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE

  Each morning, before the sun even rose, men and women walked the wide planks of the docks, preparing their boats for the day. The sounds of the marina echoed throughout the harbor: the scuffing of heavy boots, the whooshing of ropes coiling, the bubbling of water as the engines roared to life. They stocked their boats full of bait, loaded the ice machines to keep their catches cold, and stored groceries for those who were leaving for longer than a day. Those boats would dock days later; then the men would drop off their catches, restock their supplies, and call home to check in with
their loved ones. At home, families were always on edge, watching the sky for an unexpected storm until that first call came in. They would listen to how the trip was going, happy to hear from their loved ones, but once they hung up, the worrying started again until the next call.

  To some, this was their life, the way they made a living. For many, they had followed the path laid out for them by the generations before, and several worked with their families. To others, it was how they spent their summer, coming from as far north as Canada and as far south as California. Rarely would someone from the East Coast come here to earn some summer money, but it happened, and their accents made them stick out like sore thumbs in this tight-knit community.

  Under the midnight-blue sky, the Austin Woods vessel floated through the channel and by the Driftwood Inn with its crew standing starboard, waving. They did this every time they went out, without fail, and would also do it when they returned, paying homage to their boat’s namesake. No one seemed to care if anyone waved back; they knew she would be in her room that faced the water or in the inn’s ballroom, alone. The way she had been for the last fifteen years.

  The three-story manor looked like a mansion straight out of the Luxury Home Magazine, with its very own moat separating Cape Harbor from its neighboring town. The A-frame structure with its wall of windows was a sight to behold. Back in the day, the locals considered the Driftwood Inn the gateway into town—still to this day many tourists yearned to stay there just to see the purple-and-pink nightly sunsets through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, to feel the sun’s rays penetrate through the glass, and to stare at the majestic views of Mount Baker. There wasn’t another hotel that could provide such a magnificent perspective. Others tried, but no one could replicate the essence of the inn, which made it utterly devastating for the community when the doors closed.

  Standing in the attic window of her granddaughter’s ocean-blue-and-white bedroom, Carly Woods held her mug of tea, guaranteeing that something occupied her hands when the fishing boat went by. She knew the boys meant well, but the pain she hid for most of the year crept back in. As much as it saddened her to watch, to see them wave, she never missed a morning nor evening. She always made sure she knew the schedule of the Austin Woods so she could keep track. Even if none of her family members were out to sea, she never gave up worrying about those who were. She glanced out to the rising sun and wondered what today would bring. They were due for a storm. The East Coast was already getting hammered, and it was only a matter of time before Mother Nature turned her attention toward the West. At this age, her heart couldn’t take much more.

  When the boat was out of sight, she rested her hand against the glass and dipped her head slightly. She recited the fisherman’s prayer aloud, words she had learned from her grandfather and had recited when she stood with her mother in this very window when the men in her family set sail. Carly had sworn she would never marry a fisherman, and she had held fast until she had seen Skip Woods in a different light. They had grown up together, always hanging out in the same crowds. One day, everything changed. Their friendship quickly turned into love and marriage, and with the birth of their son, they became a family.

  The warm honey concoction in her mug coated her throat as she sipped. A cough tickled her throat, and she did everything she could to push it away. The last thing she wanted was to have a coughing fit that would buckle her legs out from under her. She sat on the edge of the bed, placed her hands on her knees, closed her eyes, and focused on her breathing. She had learned the technique from the doctor she saw in Seattle to calm the spasms in her chest. She didn’t want her friend and housekeeper to feel the need to rush to her aid, when she knew how to control her breathing—at least not yet. The meditation wouldn’t always work—it was nothing more than a temporary fix—but for the moment the urge to cough seemed to subside.

  She glanced around the room and smiled. In the corner sat her granddaughter’s old dollhouse, which they had converted into a bookcase one summer. They’d sat outside for days and had sanded and painted until they’d deemed it perfect. The same with her dresser. Together, they painted it a beautiful blue and added seashells for the knobs. Carly thought the beach theme was a bit odd considering where she lived, but her granddaughter wanted it, and whatever she wanted, Carly happily gave.

  Her hand brushed over the mermaid quilt; the creature on it had blonde hair and a purple tail, with multiple tones of blue surrounding her. It had been a special request from her grandchild, who at the age of five had vowed she would become a mermaid and live outside her grandmother’s house so they could see each other every day. That made her very happy. It would be her greatest joy to see her son’s daughter every day, whether a mermaid or not.

  Down the hall, she heard her best friend, caregiver, and live-in housekeeper moving in and out of the other bedrooms, humming loudly for Carly to hear. The song was unfamiliar, but she wasn’t surprised that she felt calmness come over her. It was hard to put into words the kind of relationship she had with Simone. What had started out as an employee/employer arrangement had turned into a friendship. Simone had come to Carly after she had escaped an abusive relationship. Her own parents had passed at an early age, and she often thought of Simone as a sister or a daughter. At first, Simone had started as a maid before taking over the reception counter, and she had finally moved on to managing the entire inn. When Carly had closed the doors for the last time, Simone had stayed on and become everything to her. Simone was the one who’d helped her through her grieving period. And it was her friend who’d suggested the doors open again, even if it was only for the weekends.

  Carly had scoffed at the idea, but Simone had refused to relent. “It would take too much to get the inn ready,” Carly had said, but Simone reminded her that there was someone out there who could do the work; all she had to do was pick up the phone.

  It had been years since she had opened the doors of her once-famed inn, letting strangers stay in what she considered her home, to enjoy views she loved so much, and eat the food she happily cooked for them. Losing the last piece of her life had been too much to handle. Many thought her mourning period would cease after a few months, a year tops, but when the mayor came to visit and found the door locked, even he knew Cape Harbor had changed forever. Even he couldn’t change the mind of his lifelong friend.

  She hated the deafening silence that her home now harbored, but the people who visited all held memories she longed to forget. For as long as she could remember, her house had been where her son’s friends had stayed. Where they’d spent time together. Every day after school, the kids would bombard her kitchen, seeking fresh-baked cookies before doing their homework. She’d never minded that her home was full of children—whatever kept them safe while their parents were at work. Once they were older, they’d come after work, on the weekends, and at every holiday . . . until the day everything changed.

  She stood and went back to the window. From here, she couldn’t see the wharf but could hear the activity going on at the end of the channel. Despite everything, she loved knowing people were hard at work on the docks, helping the fishermen bring in their daily catch and making sure their boats were in the best shape to handle whatever nature would throw their way.

  The sun rose. She felt the rays trying to burst through the window. It would be a warm day, one that would surely draw visitors out to the water. The laughter of others would carry through to her kitchen, making her smile until memories flooded her mind again.

  Soon, the tourists would be here, clogging the streets and the waterway and having a good time. Still to this day, her phone rang with people asking if she was open and accepting reservations. When Simone answered, she wanted to say yes because the rooms were vacant and the inn needed life, but Carly remained steadfast. The answer was no and would always be no.

  Her tea had cooled, and all the vessels were out in the ocean earning their keep. She took her leave, looking back at her granddaughter’s room one last time. Yea
rs ago, it was dark green with trophies sitting on shelves and medals hanging from pegs stuck in the wall. Posters of hot rods and movies used to decorate the walls, but she and Simone had packed and stored the pictures neatly in the attic many years ago. There were days when she thought about bringing them down and poring over the memories, but she never found the courage to climb the ladder. There was so much of her life stored away in the room above her head that she often wondered what she had left.

  The day was coming when she would need to clean out the attic, to finally part with the memories, but today was not that day, and tomorrow wasn’t looking too promising either. Next week, she told herself. There was always next week.

  Downstairs, she emptied her mug and turned on the kettle to heat more water. Her garden needed tending. Her rosebushes were struggling, as they often did with the soil on her property. Too much sand mixed with the dirt made it hard to grow anything but seagrass. She would ask Simone to go into town and buy a few bags of soil to help the roses thrive. Working on her flower bed would keep her thoughts off the inevitable.

  Simone entered the kitchen, happily singing a different melody. Her blonde hair was up in a perfectly coifed bun, not a strand out of place. There used to be days when they would go to the salon together or take trips to the spa in Anacortes, but it had been years since Carly would even entertain such a thought. The idea of someone seeing her, let alone touching her, made her feel ill. Simone had done her nails, cut and dyed her hair for as long as she could remember. Usually in the summer when her granddaughter visited so they could play beauty shop.

  Carly watched as she stored the cleaning supplies, washed her hands, and took a mug from the cupboard. Together, they waited for the kettle to whistle. Every so often, Simone would glance her way and smile. She refrained from asking her what she was thinking because deep down, she knew. Carly knew that Simone was right when she suggested she should reopen the inn, and at some point, she would have to consider doing that or selling—and selling the house wasn’t an option. At least, not while Carly was alive.

  The whistle blew, and Simone fixed their cups of tea. With it, she set out the pills Carly needed to take in the morning. She would also do the same at lunch- and dinnertime. Simone picked up her mug and walked to the back door. She paused and waited for Carly to follow.