“I like everything about you.” He lets go of the pendant and gently brushes his fingers over my collarbone.
My heartbeat quickens, and I wonder if he can hear it. How he looks at me like I’m the only thing in the world makes it hard to think. I learn more about Scott every day and it has me yearning for more. Over dinner, I shared my plans to open an animal clinic, and Scott shared his dreams to open a dive shop once he has time to focus on it.
Scott breaks the silence, pointing toward a small outcropping of manmade stones overlooking the beach. He tugs on my hand. “Come on. The view’s better from there.”
I walk with him, my hand in his, the soft sand beneath my feet giving way to the smooth stones as we climb the short incline. When we reach the top, the ocean stretches endlessly before us.
“This is beautiful,” I murmur, awestruck, as much from the simmering between us as the scenery.
Scott lowers onto one rock, patting the space beside him. “This is my favorite spot on the island,” he admits. “Whenever things get too crazy, I come here—to clear my head.”
I sit down beside him, tucking my legs in beneath me. “I didn’t peg you as the guy who needs to clear his head.”
“We all need that sometimes. Even me.”
I study him, noticing how the moonlight softens the sharp edges of his face. He’s gentler here, serene. “What do you think about when you’re here?”
He keeps his gaze on the horizon, the silence stretching so long I think he might forget to answer.
“A lot of things. I think about my time in the Navy. The people I served with. The ones I lost. Other times, I think about the dives, the risks, the rewards. And sometimes…” His jaw tightens.
“What?” I prompt.
Scott turns toward me, his hazel dark with intensity. A shiver runs down my spine. “Sometimes I think about what it would belike to stop running and just hold on to what I have in front of me.”
His honesty moves me.
“What are you running from?”
He looks down at the space between us, his voice raw. “Regrets mostly. The things I can’t change. Mistakes I’ve made.”
I reach out to him, resting my hand on his forearm. “You’re not running now.”
His gaze moves to my fingers, then back to my eyes.
“No.” His voice is barely audible. “I’m not.”
My fingers trace the jagged scar along his neck. “How did you get this?”
Scott stiffens for a moment, then exhales, his hesitation brief. “We were deployed to Yemen on a hostage rescue mission. Everything went smoothly and right to plan—until it didn’t. We got all our men out, but not without a fight. It was the first and only time I’ve killed a man.” His voice is calm but heavy. Like a chain around his neck. “I’m glad I have this to remember.” He gestures to the scar. “Anyway, because of this, my six-year tour in the SEALs ended five months early.”
I swallow, my fingers tightening around his and pulling his hand to my heart. “I’m so sorry you experienced that.”
The space between us is smaller now, and the ocean carries away our silence. The intimacy of the moment compels me to share something personal.
“When I was little…” My voice trembles with bottled-up emotion. “I always dreamed of living somewhere beautiful where my family would keep growing, where we would always be safe and live together forever.” My eyes water up and I feel a tear escape. “I didn’t know death. I was so afraid to lose them.”
Scott slides his arm around me, pulling me closer. He brushes a soft kiss against my cheek to wipe away my tear.
“When Dad died, it was just the three of us. Nathan was sixteen and had to grow up fast to take care of us. There was never enough time.” I exhale slowly, my voice shaking. “And Mom worked so hard. But no matter what, no matter how tired she was, Mom made time for us. She would play us a song on the piano every night. She’d tell us it’s not the number of hours you have, but how you use them. Make them count.”
Scott turns toward me, his gaze stormy. “The song you played at the tavern?”
“Yes. When Nathan disappeared and Mom couldn’t play anymore, I kept playing. And when Mom passed…” My voice catches. “It’s my connection to them all. A way to keep them with me.”
Scott doesn’t speak right away, but his warm hands caress my shoulders and back. “Hearing you play that song was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion.
Heat rises to my cheeks. “Thank you,” I whisper. “I want that again one day… a family of my own… to love.” I inhale. “But I’m afraid.”
