Tough as Nails

Chapter 1

Lucius

“Welcome home,” I mutter under my breath.

It took some convincing to get me back to good old Essex Bay. After my ten-year hiatus, this momentous return should be more of an occasion.

So far it’s flown under the radar.

At least the weather has decided to bestow a sensible welcome on me, with clear morning skies and a snappy ocean breeze.

I’m on the grounds of my family’s resort, a great way to appreciate the weather and the view since we are right on the water’s edge. I walk off a cement path towards the cliffs that drop to the oval cove below. I feel the ocean breeze whip at my face. One little boat bobs around at the water’s edge.

I make a mental note to upgrade the size and number of tour boats during the resort’s renovation. That’s what I’m back for. My parents summoned me to help modernize the place.

I have a lot going for me back in Austin, which has been my home base since I left. So they really had to make it worth my while.

I whip my head back towards the resort itself. The quick movement skews my aviators off my nose. I push them back with a forefinger and concentrate on the large castle-esque building.

Cove Castle.

My father’s life’s work, the epitome of coastal luxury. Named so because of its location and architectural design. A slideshow of ideas begins in my head, but my phone beeps and snaps me out of it.

I answer the call. “Chuck, I’m out of town for a few days, likely longer.”

“I saw your email signature. Didn’t you just get back from Lima?”

“Before that, the Cayman Islands. And before that, Singapore. It comes with the territory.” I pin the phone to my head with my shoulder and neatly fold the sleeves of my button-down shirt. “What’s your grand scheme this week?” I ask.

Chuck Manning is a bright, fresh MIT grad. He’s building a fintech start-up to rival my own. His words, not mine. Laughable if you ask me.

I met him through a mentorship program I work with back in Austin. I unwittingly offered to mentor him, and now he calls me once a week to convince me to partner with him before it’s too late.

“I think you’ll really want to hear this one.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Integrating WOOL into agribusiness. Specifically drones.”

I shake my head.

WOOL is the international money transfer service I founded eight years ago. I’ve poured every part of me into it, and the rewards continue to be phenomenal.

“Our core business is to reduce the cost of money transfers for our end-users. How does your new aspect fit into that mission?”

“I promise you it does. Just give me one presentation, it’ll all make sense,” says Chuck.

A nerve pulls at my temple. The beginnings of a headache. “I admire your tenacity. You already know my answer is no yet you keep at it. Never lose that trait, man.”

“I feel like this is the big one. Don’t let your pride get in the way. Just te-”

“I’ll talk to you next week,” I cut him off and feel a gnawing sensation in my stomach. His words hit a nerve because I’ve heard them before.

I slip my phone into my back pocket and head to the parking lot in front. Chuck has reminded me of Jenna. My lost love from ten years ago.

“Don’t let your pride destroy what we have. We’re good for each other.”

That’s the last thing she said to me before I left her, left town. Seemingly for good.

Where are you?

How are you?

Jenna Moore. Memories of falling in love with her ten years ago flood my mind. They come in so fast, I feel dizzy. I steady myself against my rental car.

Sweet, kind Jenna who nursed me back to health after a motorcycle accident. She turned me into the kind of guy I hated and probably still do. The kind of guy who asks a woman out more than once.

I chuckle to myself. “She wouldn’t give me the time of day,” I mumble to myself. And I wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Memories of breaking her heart stir up my insides and make me recoil. She was right. We had a good thing going. But I was such an ass.

I hop into the rental car and just sit there, paralyzed with thoughts. What would it be like to see her again? Would she be happy? Has she forgiven me?

I have a sudden urge to drive to the hospital. I’m not sure if she still works there or if she’s even still a resident of the Bay. So much can happen in ten years.

I’d love to see her again but not like this, like a stalker. I don’t want to get a restraining order. And I’m not sure if a second shot is worth it. Maybe just let sleeping dogs lie, Lucius.

I start the car and exit the resort. Today is a slow day, there’s not much happening here in regards to the renovations. The project is still in the early planning stage.

I could go back to my parent’s house, where I’m staying. Or I could just drive by the hospital. It wouldn’t be weird since we’re old friends, despite how things ended.

My sense kicks back in, and I decide against that. Instead, I make my way to Pebble Beach. It holds a special spot in my heart to this day. It’s where I finally made Jenna come around to me.

The abandoned beach has a small section that’s covered in smooth glass-like pebbles. It’s good to see them still looking as magical as they once were all these years later.

I pick up a charcoal gray stone and fling it into the ocean. It plops in with a splosh. Any ripples it forms are quickly swallowed by a patch of surf. I try a few more times with the same effect. It’s not as satisfying as on calmer waters.

“This is sadder than my life,” I yell out as my wrist flicks another stone.

I try it once more with a milky pebble. The stones will not skip.

It’s the perfect analogy for my life. Lately, I think a lot of it is trajectory. Ten years ago, I flung myself out into the world. I made something of myself, but to what end if I have nobody to share it with? Nowadays I feel exactly like the pebbles. Drowned by the surf.

It occurs to me as I stand there that she’s what’s missing. Jenna would have helped me skip along. Her exuberant spirit wouldn’t have let me sink into this love of money, power, and endless business growth.

Money and success are great, don’t get me wrong. I love excelling at everything I’m passionate about. But without someone to share it with, without someone to keep me grounded, what’s the point?

And Jenna, with her infectious laugh and child-like innocence, would have been that person.

Jenna, whose loveliness comes from within that resilient spirit.

Why did I let her go?

I find myself at the park when I leave the beach. I seem to be on a tour of all the locations where we shared memories. Before the park, I stopped by our favorite coffee shop, Rocco’s, and got the glazed donuts she liked. I also drove by the soup kitchen she volunteered at sometimes.

I sit on a bench with my open donut box.

The park is a hive of activity. Vendors, children, animals. I can almost see her setting up a blanket for us to sit on like she used to way back when.

I’m about to take my first bite when a familiar voice calls my name as if he isn’t sure it’s me.

I look up and glance from left to right. It’s my old high school friend Dave. I set the box aside and stand up to greet him.

“I didn’t expect a tech billionaire to still have a taste for our small-town eats,” he says with a laugh.

“You can take the man out of the small town.”

“And I want to hear all about your fish-out-of-water adventures. Though evidence suggests you’ve turned into a pretty big one yourself.”

“We could talk over donuts.” I shrug.

“Let’s do brunch instead. There’s a great café not far from here.”

It’s a walkable distance. I abandon the rental temporarily, and we trek the few blocks to the café.

Dave fills me in on what I’ve missed. He asks a lot of questions about what I’ve been up to and why I’m back. He is merciful enough to swerve around the topic of Jenna for as long as humanly possible. Until I bring it up.

“Is Jenna still a nurse?” I ask as we approach the café.

“Still a nurse, still in town, and still single.”

He says this so matter-of-factly. It almost feels like a dare. I keep my stride in check despite the sudden buckle in my knees. I’m glad we’re finally at the café. We decide to sit outside and enjoy the fresh air.

“That’s great about Jenna,” I say once we sit down and place our orders. “What else is going on?”

“The Conservation Society is having a charity gala. Fundraiser. There’s a lot of trash in the water and on the beach, and they want to clean it up. You should make an appearance.”

“When is it?”

“Tomorrow night. It won’t hurt to wear a pair of pants with real deep pockets.”

I laugh out loud. “No soliciting.”

I text my accountant to make a donation. Then I sit back and hope Jenna is still the kind of person who attends charity events.