She smacks my shoulder, but I catch her hand before she can pull away. It’s meant to be a joke, a moment of levity, but her fingers curl around mine and suddenly, the air feels thick.
“We’re good?” I ask.
She nods, and for a split second, I consider just pulling her in and kissing her right there, ocean breeze and all. But she lets go, stepping back, and the moment breaks.
“We’re good,” she says.
A bell sounds from the main square, rung by the old guy in the Union Jack hat who MCs every event in Seamuse. It’s the signal for the mid-afternoon parade. The crowd surges toward the center of town.
As we head that way, I spot Lucas threading through the crowd, his stride quick and eyes bright. He waves when he sees us, and his face splits into a massive grin. He’s wearing boardshorts and a festival T-shirt, and his hair is sun-bleached from too many shifts on the lifeguard tower.
“Hey, you made it!” Lucas hugs Helena in greeting, and then me, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He pretends not to notice the narwhal, which is already turning heads.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Helena says, breathless from laughing.
A second later, Cole appears holding two iced coffees and looking like he’s spent the morning baking—his arms are dusted with flour and there’s a patch of cinnamon on his jaw.
“Am I late?” Cole asks, panic in his voice.
Helena laughs and hands him one of the extra fudge squares she’d been hoarding.
“Never,” she says. “We were just about to find somewhere to watch the parade.”
The four of us stake out a spot on a low stone wall, facing the street. The parade is small but earnest. Local primary school kids in papier-mâché animal heads lead it off, followed by a pipe band that’s clearly just the same three people switching instruments. Then there’s a float advertising the annual chili cook-off. Helena hoots and claps for every single entry, even the ones that are, objectively, tragic.
Lucas leans in. “Are you okay? You look knackered.”
“I’m good.” Better now that I’ve apologized.
Lucas nods, satisfied, and shifts his attention to Helena, who’s trying to get a selfie with the narwhal. He obliges, ducking his head into frame, and they both nearly drop the thing onto the street.
Cole passes me a coffee. I accept it with a nod of thanks. We sit and watch the parade wind past as the sun drifts lower. I keep expecting the old tension—the impulse to scan the crowd, the readiness for trouble—but it never materializes. I’m hyper-aware of the three people next to me, the sounds of their voices,and the way their laughter feels like a secret only I get to keep. But, blissfully, I’m aware of nothing else.
As the last float goes by, Helena leans onto my shoulder. “Are you still on duty?”
I take a moment, then rest my hand lightly over hers. “I think maybe I’m off the clock.”
She smiles. “Good.”
We wander as a group for the rest of the afternoon. Lucas insists on showing off at the strength test and nearly breaks the bell. Cole leads us to the bakery’s booth for fresh pasties, then spends twenty minutes consulting with an old lady about the merits of lard versus butter.
Helena orchestrates a “group portrait” with the narwhal front and center, and I don’t complain, even when she insists on a second, “silly face” version.
As the sun edges toward the horizon, we find ourselves back by the bandstand, where the local musicians are setting up for the evening show. The four of us sit on the grass as the sounds of tuning guitars and laughing kids blend into the background.
I take a deep breath, then turn to Cole, clearing my throat. “Hey. About before… I should have called you. Or at least not”—I gesture helplessly—“acted like you were the enemy.”
Cole’s brown eyes are warm. He shrugs. “You were doing your job. I’m glad she’s got someone like you in her corner.”
I look down, embarrassed. “Still. I shouldn’t have been such a prick about it.”
Cole grins. “Apology accepted. I’ve got thick skin.” He flexes, mock-serious.
Helena snorts into her lemonade.
We settle in to listen as the band starts up. Helena nestles against my side. Lucas and Cole sprawl close enough to touch. The sky bleeds orange and pink, and the harbor lights come onin flickering constellations. For the first time in ages, I let myself believe this could last longer than a summer. This peace.
When the last song ends and the crowd rises to head home, I linger.
