Hazel Island 1: Forever Mine
Author
Iris Morland
Reads
305K
Chapters
23
Chapter 1
Jack Benson considered his options: get up and leave without a word or suffer through the indignity currently being hoisted upon him.
âCome on, smile!â said Gigi, the woman heâd been seeing off and on for three months. âWhy canât you ever smile for a picture, at least?â
Jack forced himself to smile. Apparently, that wasnât good enough for Gigi, because when she looked through the photos, she made annoyed noises at every single one.
Jack was a fisherman, for Christâs sake. He didnât give a shit about social media, and he sure as hell didnât give a shit about taking selfies, either.
Gigi, her mouth in a pretty pout, wrinkled her nose at him. âI canât post any of these. My friends donât believe that I even have a boyfriend.â
Jack, lounging in his bed, sat up at that pronouncement. âWhoever said anything about âboyfriendâ?â he rumbled.
Gigi fluttered her eyelashes. âItâs been four months.â
As if time were the sole marker of a relationship. Jack had to restrain a snort. Gigi wasnât a bad sort. She was the type of woman heâd always preferred: pretty but easily bored. Because once these women got bored, they left. And that was how Jack liked things.
Jack wished he had a bottle of whiskey on his bedside table. Instead, he went to his tiny kitchen, made them both two mugs of coffee, and handed one to Gigi.
âLook.â He cleared his throat. âIâm not a boyfriend kind of guy.â
Gigi laughed. âEvery guy says that.â
âIâm not every guy.â
She pouted again, not even touching the coffee heâd given her. âDo you have nothing else to say?â
âWhat do you want me to say?â Now he was just confused.
Gigi quickly bounced from his bed and slipped on her clothes, shooting him daggers as she did so.
âYou know what I think?â she said tightly.
He didnât think it wise to reply to that question, either.
âI think you donât know what you want. Any guy would love to be with me, so itâs not me. Itâs you. Youâre just messed up.â Gigi grabbed her purse and, after she checked her hair in her compact, gave him the finger before flouncing out to her car.
Jack winced when he heard her tires peeling out. He just hoped she hadnât run over his freshly planted sod.
Pulling out a bottle of whiskey he stashed under his mattress, he poured some into his coffee. Then he did the same thing with Gigiâs leftover mug.
* * *
Jack had worked as a fisherman on Hazel Island, a small island in Puget Sound, for over a decade. On his boat, the Perseverance, he was at home. He didnât have to deal with people demanding things from him that he didnât have. It was just him, the sea, and the stink of freshly caught fish.
Not that fresh fish should literally stink. Heâd learned that quickly when heâd started. Heâd been amazed to find that fish straight from the water smelled and tasted of the ocean itself. He never sold fish that actually stunkâonly a hack who didnât care about his catch or his customers would do that.
Jack pulled in a net filled with salmon, the fish wiggling and flopping about in one last attempt at freedom. But the net was lighter than usual, and when he looked it over, he realized he hadnât caught nearly as many as heâd expected.
And the salmonâthey were strangely small, not at all like heâd been used to catching over the years.
Jack used to catch crabs primarily. Within the last year, though, heâd begun fishing for salmon as his main source of income. Crab fishing in particular had started to dry up due to overfishing.
Although the waters around Hazel Island were vast, they only had a few different species of fish available for commercial fishing. When Jack had moved to the island, he hadnât realized that there were better fishing grounds elsewhere in the Sound. At that point, though, heâd already felt at home on Hazel Island and hadnât wanted to leave.
Jack grunted. There were ups and downs with this business: bad weather, bad catches. Some years, he struggled to keep up with all the fish heâd catch. Other years, it was like the entire ocean was devoid of life. Feast or famineâthat was the life of a fisherman.
But it was always temporary. This, however... Jack had a sinking feeling in his gut that this was a bad omen. Heâd naively assumed the overfishing wouldnât be an issue like it had with crabbing.
Based on this catch, he had a feeling he wasnât going to be so lucky a second round.
By the time he returned to shore and began packing the salmon for sale with the help of a few guys he hired seasonally, he was in a dark mood. If the other guys noticed how pathetic this catch was, they didnât mention it.
Hazel Island was a sleepy town with no more than a thousand residents. The population swelled with tourists in the summer, but now that it was fall, the island activity had slowed down.
Jack made his usual stops at the various grocery stores and restaurants that bought salmon directly from him. His last stop was the Hazel Island bed and breakfast.
Gwen Parker, the owner, stepped outside the moment he turned off the engine of his truck. âOh good, there you are! Youâre late,â she teased.
Gwen had moved to Hazel Island five years ago to open her bed and breakfast. With her red hair, freckles, and wide smile, sheâd quickly become a favorite in the community. She was always friendly, always willing to lend a hand or an ear. Her business had taken off and had yet to slow down. Sheâd somehow managed to draw in tourists for the rainy winter months when no one else on the island had done so.
Gwen Parker was a marvel that Jack did not understand one bit.
He looked at his watch. âIâm not late,â he replied.
âYouâre usually here by eleven. Itâs eleven-thirty.â
He looked around when he entered the kitchen of the bed and breakfast. Based on the quiet emanating from the dining room, they werenât busy.
âSorry,â he said gruffly. âIâll put these in the fridge.â
He carried in Gwenâs usual order, setting them in the same spot, something heâd done for five years.
When he returned outside, Gwen was standing by his truck, her head cocked to the side.
The sun had begun to shine through the clouds, and it made the strands of gold in Gwenâs hair stand out. Jack had always wondered how many colors her hair held.
Heâd wondered it, but heâd never, ever, attempted to see it for himself.
âYou might be interested to hear Gigi came by this morning for some breakfast,â said Gwen, her tone casual. âShe seemed very put out. She asked for hash browns, which she never does.â
Jack gritted his teeth. âSo?â
âArenât you two seeing each other?â
âNo.â He paused. âNot anymore.â
âAh. Well, she told Darla all about it, apparently. She was spitting mad. Said men were absolute beasts and she hoped a certain fisherman fell off his boat and drowned.â Gwenâs lips quirked. âI think you made her mad. Iâve never seen Gigi say anything mean about anyone. I think sheâs even nice to mosquitoes.â
Jack let out a reluctant laugh. âI probably screwed that up,â he admitted. He peered more closely at Gwen. âSince when do you care?â
Gwen seemed taken aback. âWeâre friends, arenât we? And I thought, you know, I could give you some adviceââ
Jack groaned.
âFrom a fellow woman. Thatâs all. Iâm just saying, you might need to be more upfront with women in the future. If they think you want a relationship but you donâtââ
He held up a hand. âGigi knew the rules. She thought she could change them. Nothing more to it than that.â
âOh.â Gwen looked embarrassed. âSorry.â
âNothing to be sorry for. We had our fun, itâs over.â He jangled his keys, hoping Gwen would take the hint.
âAre you going to be single for the rest of your life? Sounds pretty lonely to me,â said Gwen.
What had he done to deserve this? First, Gigi throwing a fit. Next, Gwen prying into his personal life. He and Gwen might be friends, but they werenât friends of that sort.
Jack Benson didnât have any friends he talked with about those things. That was what women did: talk, talk, talk. Talking about their feelings until you wanted to get on the nearest boat and sail until you hit the edge of the world.
âAre you offering to fix that problem?â he drawled. âBecause it sounds to me like youâre interested.â
Gwen blushed. Being a redhead, she blushed easily and often. It was one of the things Jack found charming about her.
âI am not offering to fix anything. Iâm just wondering.â She spread her hands. âI just want people to be happy.â
âThen how about you stick to making your customers happy. Iâm doing just fine on my own.â
âSounds like someone doth protest too much.â
Jack shot her an annoyed look before he took off.
* * *
The day Jack had met Gwen Parker, sheâd been covered in paint splatters, her hair a mess. She and her older brother, Elliot, had been working on the bed and breakfast all summer long. When Jack had heard that someone had bought the old, boarded-up house on Main Street, heâd assumed the new owner would simply bulldoze it.
Jack knew everyone on Hazel Island, even if he didnât make a point to be friends with them. When he stopped by the house-in-progress, he had to sidestep a hole in the porch. When the boards under his feet squeaked ominously, he prayed he didnât fall through to his doom.
Gwen had opened the door with a flourish. Sheâd smiled at him, and that smile had been like a punch to the gut. Jack was hardly a guy who used fancy words, but the word radiant had been the first thing that had popped into his head.
Gwen was radiant: from her bright hair, to her smile, to the way she moved, like some mystical spirit. She did everything with energy.
He introduced himself, and she shook his hand, her grip surprisingly strong despite her size.
âIâm in desperate need of fresh salmon. Iâve heard youâre the guy for the job,â she said brightly.
âYeah, thatâs me.â
âI honestly donât know anything about what makes any fish good or not. Iâve eaten my fair share of sushi, but if you handed me a tuna, I couldnât tell you if it was a good one or not.â
Jack listened as this woman heâd never met chattered on. She didnât come up for air. He wondered if there was something wrong with her.
Or maybe, just maybe, she just liked to talk to people. He shuddered internally at the thought.
âIf youâre worried that Iâd screw you over,â he said, âyou donât have to be. Ask anyone on the island. They can vouch for me.â
Her eyes widened. âOh! Of course not. I didnât mean to imply that. Iâm sure youâre very honorable. The most honorable fisherman there is.â
He eyed her. Was she messing with him? But based on her expression, she seemed entirely sincere.
He couldnât help but notice that she wasnât wearing a wedding ring. Her brother was helping her renovate the place, so she must not have a boyfriend or fiancĂ©. That surprised him. Gwen didnât seem like the type of woman who would do well on her own. She needed to talk too much.
Sheâd hate how Jack lived: in a tiny house, isolated from humanity, no computer or internet. He had a radio and not much else for entertainment.
âAre you from Hazel Island? A lot of people seem to have been born and raised here. Itâs not like Seattle. Everybody is a transplant there, it seems like,â said Gwen.
âIâve been here for a while,â was all Jack said in reply.
Gwen glanced at her phone. âOh, crap, I need to meet my brother. I lost track of time. It was nice to meet you. If youâre ever free, please stop by when weâre open for a bite to eat.â
Jack just nodded. He had no intention of coming to this little hole in the wall that would probably go bankrupt within a year. Not that Gwen Parker seemed out of her depth. It was just the nature of this island that small businesses either sank or swim given the fluctuation of the local economy. If you didnât know how to save during the months of good business, you wouldnât have enough to sustain you through the leaner months.
Gwenâs phone rang right before Jack left. He watched as her face turned pale. The phone kept ringing, Gwen staring at the screen, like she couldnât decide if she wanted to answer it.
That was his cue to leave. But the sudden vulnerability of her expression compared to how sheâd been just minutes earlier pierced something inside him.
Finally, her phone stopped ringing. When she looked up, she started, as if sheâd forgotten about Jackâs presence.
âSpam call,â she said, clearly lying, considering she wouldnât meet his eyes. âTheyâre the worst, right?â
âI wouldnât know. I donât have a cell phone.â
Gwen gaped at him. âSeriously? How do you call people?â
âI have a landline.â
âWell, youâre maybe the last person on earth that does. Even my dad has a cell phone, and he barely knows how to print something.â
Gwenâs phone started ringing again. This time, she turned it off and shoved it into her pocket.
âSomebody bothering you?â said Jack. Why do you care? he asked himself.
âOh, just my husband.â She grimaced. âI mean, my ex-husband. Weâre separated.â
Ex-husband. So sheâd been marriedâwas still married, technically. Jack didnât know why that angered him. Was it because she was still legally bound to another man?
Or because she was free to date other people?
âHe keeps wanting to talk. I donât know what there is to talk about. I already served him the papers. Now suddenly heâs got cold feet.â Gwen made a face. âIâm sorry. TMI. You donât care, Iâm sure.â
Jack saw the way her shoulders hunched. He noticed the circles under her eyes, and how she kept touching her back pocket where sheâd put her phone, like a weird talisman. He had the sudden urge to keep her safe.
âDonât apologize.â His voice was gruff. âYou donât have anything to be sorry about.â
She looked a little stunned at that pronouncement.
As Jack drove to his next stop, he kept seeing her face in his mindâs eye.
As the weeks, the months, the years passed, he and Gwen fell into a routine: heâd come by every Tuesday and Thursday with a fresh catch. He never told her that he under-charged her, especially when she first opened the bed and breakfast.
Sheâd make sure to have a fresh cup of coffeeâsugar, no creamâready to hand to him. Sometimes sheâd ply him with a donut or pastry, although she soon discovered he preferred savory things. So she started making him breakfast burritos, telling him he was her guinea pig for new items on their menu.
Jack heard through the grapevine about Gwenâs divorce being finalized. When he saw her the following morning, he could tell sheâd been crying. He made sure to charge her less than half for her salmon without her knowing about it.
When he heard she was dating someone, he didnât accept the coffee or breakfast items, telling her heâd already eaten. It felt odd, accepting her gifts when she should be giving them to the man she was dating.
As the years passed, they formed a friendship, something Jack had never had with another woman. He watched as Gwen gained confidence in running her business. He watched as she dated one man, then another, the relationships never lasting long. He watched as she became a pillar of the community, even though Hazel Island was a difficult place to be accepted if you hadnât been born there.
He watched Gwen because if he could do nothing else, heâd look out for her as long as he was able.
