Safe Harbor (Scoops Series Book 1), page 1
Safe Harbor
K. Sinko
Copyright © 2023 by K. Sinko
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Studio Ryley
Editing by Britt Tayler
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. All the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
For my brothers, Mike and Bo.
I love you a stupid amount,
and I’m proud of you every day.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Coming Soon
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
Everyone was staring.
Melanie kept her gaze down at her black flats as she shuffled over to her locker. Students stepped to the side as she breezed past, their curious gazes and whispers causing her face to flush. But she didn’t bother looking up or giving them her attention. Giving them more fuel for what would most likely be dubbed the juiciest gossip at Garrison Prep.
Thankfully, she knew no one would try talking to her. No one at the prestigious prep school ever did, unless it was necessary for a class or a project. Melanie was used to the wallflower life, to being a nobody at a school full of students hoping to be somebodies. Senators, authors, and rocket scientists were just some of the many notable graduates of Garrison Prep, all moving on to become alumni at the top ivy league schools. It was part of why Melanie never allowed anything below an A on her report cards in the past three years. If working herself to the bone gave her the chance to follow in her father’s footsteps and become the next Albertson to graduate from Yale, she would do it.
The other reason had to do with why everyone had been staring at her all day.
She opened up her locker, switched out her textbooks, and sneaked a quick peek at her phone, noticing one text had come through from her mom during her last class. She anxiously tapped in her passcode and opened up the latest message.
It was a photo of a cake, slathered with a thick layer of purple frosting.
Happy birthday!!
Melanie’s heart lurched at the sight of it, at how different this birthday was shaping up to be. In truth, her birthday hadn’t felt normal for years now. Yet after what happened, she knew this year was going to quite literally take the cake for the worst birthday yet.
She swallowed, pushing her disappointment deep down like she always did, and sent back a single purple heart emoji. Her mother started typing almost immediately, the three little gray dots bouncing on her screen.
We’re going to have a family meeting tonight with cake. Your father and I have things to discuss with you.
Another meeting. Another “Grand Plan” to fix the horror they were living in. Her stomach turned as she typed back.
Will he be there?
The dots began dancing again, taking an excruciatingly long time. Melanie readjusted her headband as she waited, smoothing her carefully straightened chestnut-brown hair so it would lie perfectly flat down her back. She kept her gaze on her phone in her locker as she listened to the murmuring of students passing her by.
“I heard he was expelled,” someone whispered.
“They say he was in the hospital for three days,” someone else responded.
She shifted uncomfortably as she stood there waiting. Mom’s answer was just one word.
Yes.
She was right. The worst birthday yet.
Melanie stared down at her corner of the cake, completely speechless. She hadn’t even had a chance to dig into her slice before they dropped it on her.
Mom made the same one every year—a round chocolate cake with deep purple frosting, the perfect combination of pink and blue for a shared birthday. She always cut the round circle into four giant slices as they split it amongst themselves, a tradition they kept up with since before she could even remember.
Melanie turned to her right as she silently watched her twin brother dig into his cake without saying a word. No surprise on his face, no signs of shock or anger or shame. Just a placid, serene look as he broke off a large chunk with his fork and shoveled it into his mouth.
“When?” Melanie asked softly, turning back to her parents.
Mom’s shoulders were squared, her back straight, clearly looking just as uncomfortable as this conversation. Dad’s eyes were drawn to his lap.
“Next Saturday, after your last day of school.”
Moving.
She couldn’t believe it. Duncan blew up his life completely, and now, they were leaving it. She listened patiently as her parents rambled on at first, telling her that Duncan needed a fresh start and a change of scene. How this environment was no longer working out for him, and he needed somewhere that felt new yet familiar.
“T-to Haverport?” Melanie asked, stuttering over her words.
Mom nodded her head.
“The cottage we used to rent actually happened to be for sale,” Dad said calmly, carefully wading through the sentence as he explained himself. Not like he needed to worry, Melanie was never one to freak out at them. “So I bought it.”
Melanie’s mind flashed back to the last time she stood in that cottage, right before she and Duncan started their first year of high school. They used to rent it out for one week in August every summer, always their last “hurrah” before starting the school year. The week was always filled with long beach days, and bike rides around town. They ate fresh seafood at Pop’s and then dug into massive ice cream cones every night. Melanie thought about how blissfully happy she was during those summers at the cottage, and how naive she was to the evils that would soon come to stay.
But…the cottage in Haverport was at least five times smaller than their current home. The top floor was barely a small hallway with two bedrooms and one bathroom, which Melanie and Duncan always occupied. The bottom floor had the master bedroom for her parents, another bathroom, and an open kitchen and living room. It worked well for the single week they would spend there, especially given that they mostly hung out on the beach and were barely in the cottage at all. But the thought of the four of them living in tight quarters for longer? It was hard for Melanie to even conceptualize. And now they were going to move there—live there. For good.
“Haverport High said they would meet with us about Duncan’s education,” Mom said as if she understood the look of confusion on Melanie’s face. “They’re going to let him go to school.”
And there it was—the real reason why they had to pack up their lives and move across the state. It wasn’t just a change of scenery or a fresh start, it was the fact that a school was going to let Duncan actually attend and graduate.
“Public school?” Melanie asked, her words short and tight.
Mom let out a long breath. “Yes, public.”
Feeling woozy, she gripped the side of her chair to steady herself, her vision going blurry for a moment.
Years of hard work…completely gone. Night after night of choosing to stay focused, and do her school work. All to get into Yale.
Even in elementary school, Yale was always the dream. Ever since the day her father put his old Yale cap on Melanie’s head and beamed down at her with pride, she knew she’d do whatever it took to see that look again. It was such a rare occurrence to see her father looking proud these days, so if getting into Yale was the answer, she would do it.
But now…without a diploma from Garrison Prep…she felt dizzy again at the thought, her knuckles going white as she gripped her chair.
“Mel.”
She looked up, noticing it was her father who spoke, a mixture of compassion and sorrow flickering in his eyes. “Colleges don’t really pay much attention to senior year when you apply,” he said. “They’ll look at all of your work before that. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
Melanie took a deep breath through her nose, trying to steady herself. “Okay,” she said softly.
“Plus, Duncan said you can choose which room you want,” Mom said.
Melanie glanced over at Duncan. He’d finished his slice, his plate licked clean of frosting. He twirled his fork around in his hands, eyes on his sister. His dirty blonde hair was slightly grown out, bouncy and curly, similar to how it looked every summer. She thought of those sunny days on the beach, chasing Duncan around as they collected crabs in buckets and built elaborate castles in the sand.
She felt like her throat was closing up as she lo
She smiled at him, and to her surprise, he returned it—a small smile creeping up his cheek. She almost felt like it came with an apology and an invitation, to get back to what they were.
Melanie exhaled. “When should we start packing?”
Melanie was taping up her last box when she heard a soft knock on her door. Dad poked his head through the frame, holding the coffee pot in his hand. “Top off?”
“Yes.” Melanie exhaled, looking around her room. “Although I’m not exactly sure where I left my mug.”
Dad pointed at the bookshelf beside him, a sunshine yellow mug sitting on the empty top shelf. “Maybe that one?”
Melanie smiled, reaching for it and holding it out to her father, who poured the last bit of coffee out. “So, your mother and I were hoping that you could head to the cottage first.”
Melanie frowned. “But won’t you need help?”
Dad waved off her question. “We need someone there to let the movers in, that will honestly be the biggest help.”
“No problem,” she said. “Will I be taking Duncan’s car?”
“You mean your car.”
She didn’t say anything, taking a sip of her coffee. Sure, her parents had bought it for the two of them, but Melanie never even had a chance to sit behind the wheel. Duncan was always the one driving it, the one going to lacrosse practices or out with friends. The one time she asked to use the car it turned into a screaming match between Duncan and their parents, so Melanie knew not to make that mistake again.
And yet, her father still insisted that the car was theirs to share.
She evaded his statement. “Which one do you want me to take?”
He reached into his pocket with his free hand, giving Melanie a set of keys. “Your mother’s. It’s already packed with all sorts of delicate things she thinks won’t make it in the big truck.”
“Sounds good.” She took the keys and slipped them into the back pocket of her jeans. “What time will the movers get there?”
“If everything goes to plan, should be by three,” he said, placing the empty coffee pot down on a pile of boxes beside him. “Actually”—he flipped open his wallet—“you should have some time to grab lunch, I can give you some cash.”
Melanie felt her chest tighten as she watched her father reach into his wallet and start rifling through bills.
“No,” she said, placing her hand gently on top of his. “Don’t worry about it, I have money from babysitting.”
“Well, that’s for college,” Dad said. “You don’t need to—”
“Dad,” Melanie interrupted him. “Really, it’s fine.”
He sighed. She couldn’t help but notice the exhaustion on his face. The dark circles around his eyes just kept getting bigger, and the wrinkles streaking across his forehead seemed even more prominent these days. She didn’t want to be the cause of more worry or pain. That’s why she took those random babysitting gigs this year—she didn’t want her parents paying for anything else when they already had so much going on.
He finally surrendered, folding the wallet back up and sliding it back into his pocket. He reached toward Melanie and placed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them with his thumbs. “How are you doing, kid?”
She mentally browsed her current catalogue of emotions at her dad’s question. Utterly exhausted after a week of taking final exams. Annoyed at trying to avoid every pitiful gaze in the halls at school. Drained from having to pack up seventeen years of memories into just a few boxes. Sad that Duncan still wasn’t talking to her. Frustrated that her parents looked at her with the same expression every day—full of regret and sorrow.
Melanie felt tears welling up in her eyes, so she quickly squeezed her hands to make them stop, digging her nails into her palms. She smiled. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Dad asked. “You know you can talk to us.”
She knew that. She knew her parents would be there for her if she went to them. But right now, with so much going on with Duncan, she didn’t want to be another burden. No need to worry about another kid. No need to make those dark circles any bigger than they already were.
“I know,” she said, reaching over to give her Dad a kiss on the cheek, hoping it would put a natural end to the conversation.
He seemed to take the hint, pulling her into a tight hug. “All right, you call us if you need anything. Remember where it is?”
She spent every summer learning the ride by heart, every sign and turn of the road etched clearly in her memory. Bringing her to a place that seemed to only know happiness.
“Of course,” she said. “How could I forget?”
Pulling off the highway, Melanie took the exit that led to Haverport. She immediately rolled down the windows, letting the salty sea air swirl through her mother’s car. She followed the familiar route to Sandy Cove—a left down Franklin, then a right on Boston Ave, which eventually led to Main Street at the end of the road.
She turned slowly, marveling at how the little town looked exactly the same. All of the same shops were there—the movie theater, the boutiques, the bookstore. A line was snaking out of Grampy’s Bakery as always; Melanie wondered if customers still queued up for a slice of that heavenly blueberry coffee cake.
She drove slowly through the town, her eyes continually glancing toward the shiny blue ocean beyond Main Street on her left, glimmering under the early summer sun. She took a deep, solemn breath. After months of rocky shores and sleepless nights, she felt thankful for the calm sea and the cozy familiarity.
Melanie reached the end of the main drag, greeted by the massive sign for Scoops By The Sea. She turned the corner, peering out her window as she gazed at the ice cream shop. She wondered how many ice cream cones she consumed with Duncan at that shop over the years, sitting at those picnic tables. Dozens? Maybe hundreds? There was that one summer when Duncan was determined to try all 32 flavors at the shop, ranking every flavor in a small notebook he carried in his backpack. He finished every single one…except Rum Raisin. Said it wasn’t worth massacring his taste buds for something so vile. She chuckled thinking of the venomous way Duncan had said vile, then immediately yearned for those simpler days.
The thought of his determination to finish every flavor that summer had Melanie flicking on the blinker of the car and pulling into the Scoops parking lot. Deep down, she wanted to stand in front of the shop again, wondering if a piece of Duncan was hidden somewhere in this special place.
She parked and pressed the button to kill the ignition, reaching to unbuckle her seatbelt. A movement at the shop window caught her eye through the side-view mirror as she watched a guy slide it open. Melanie froze, clenching her seatbelt as she watched him pull a small paperback novel out of his back pocket, leaning against the counter as he flipped it open. His hair was buzzed short, almost military-like, and the sleeves of his Scoops T-shirt were rolled up to reveal a set of toned arms that made her stomach do a summersault.
Okay, this was a dumb idea, she thought to herself. He won’t notice if I just go. Too engrossed in his book.
But her stomach growled like it had other plans. It seemed packing that morning had distracted her from actually eating breakfast, and after consuming copious amounts of coffee, she knew it was probably smart for her to eat something.
She looked back through the mirror and noticed the guy now glancing toward her car, probably wondering what was taking so long. She squeezed her eyes shut, fully aware that if she left now, it would just be awkward.
