He exhales slowly, then looks up at me, something like relief crossing his face.
“No—thank you for the warning,” he says. “That actually explains… a lot.”
“Explains what?”
He shakes his head. “I’ll deal with it.”
My eyes dropped noticing the nails marks on his forearm, angry and red welts marring his tan skin.
“Did, Sage do that?”
I move closer, concerned. My fingers brush his arm.
“It’s nothing. When the sail was jibing she got spooked and clutched me.”
I hesitated wanting to say more—but Sage’s head popped from the porthole above. “Ethan? All okay down there.” Her eyes cut between us standing close.
I’d be a liar for not suddenly seeing it—everything she sees in him. He reads it then—in my eyes.
I’m exposed.
Ethan really is the real deal.
A big catch.
And he was two cubicles down from me for over a year—while I was busy saving my drowning relationship—He met someone else.
But he’d never go for me right? Beth? The shy girl, next door. My clothes aren’t’ flashy. I don’t have anything Sage has… And yet— I swore for a split second I read it back in his eyes—regret. Recognition. But it was gone just as fast, as he turns and goes to her.
Sage.
His girlfriend.
Leaving me realizing I detonated my own bomb—how could I never had realized my budding crush on Ethan. And how can I escape Sage’s wrath?
I stay back a minute longer, grip the table in the galley while processing what the heck just happened in that silent moment between us.
Sage must never guess. If she does, I’ll just deny it.
And never act on a thing.
Maybe it was just proximity. He gave me the time and attention Sean hasn’t been. Plus, Ethan is older, sophisticated. Capable.
Maybe I just need to find someone with similar qualities.
Plymouth comes into view slowly, like it’s revealing itself on purpose.
Brick buildings and church steeples rise along the shoreline, sunlight glinting off windows and water alike. The harbor deepens in color as we approach the deep-water dock, the engine easing back, sails slackening as Tony takes her in clean and smooth.
Lines are thrown. Cleats creak.Artemissettles with a gentle bump, like she’s sighing.
We all look… rough.
Salt-streaked. Windblown. Sunscreen-smudged. The good kind of grimy—the kind that promises showers and cold drinks and the excuse of a long day earned.
Tony hops onto the dock and claps his hands. “Okay, change of venue. My uncle’s letting us use one of the houses. Plenty of room, real showers. Mark and—uh—Chris are already there with Dan and the rest of the crew.”
That’s right. Mark and Dan. More coworkers. More people. Less space to hide.
