He wrapped both hands around the mug. The Sandpiper smelled like frying bacon and salt air through the open deck doors. Vintage fishing photos lined the walls, boats at anchor, nets drying in the sun, and Clint stared at them because they required nothing from him.
The front door opened, and Sean walked in.
He moved well. That was the first thing Clint noticed, the way he always noticed. Sean’s cane tapped a steady rhythm on the plank floor, but his stride was confident and unhurried. He’d put on muscle since the last time Clint saw him. His face was tanned, and he was grinning before he even reached the booth.
“You look terrible,” Sean said, sliding into the opposite seat.
“Thanks.”
“Seriously. Did you sleep at all?”
“Some.” Clint took a sip of his coffee. “You find the hotel okay?”
“Clint. It’s Starlight Shores. Impossible to get lost here.”
Bryan appeared with a second mug and a coffeepot. He poured for Sean, nodded at Clint, and left them alone.
Sean ordered eggs and toast and asked Clint questions about the property while they waited. Easy questions. The kind of warm-up conversation two people have when they’re avoiding the thing they actually need to say. Clint answered in short sentences and watched Sean’s hands as he talked, the way he gestured with his whole arm, loose and animated. Sean had always talked with his hands. Before the rescue, after it.
The food came. Sean ate. Clint pushed his eggs around the plate.
“So,” Sean said, setting down his fork. “I didn’t drive down here to talk about your aunt’s gutters.”
“I figured.”
“I’m getting married.”
“So I heard. Congratulations.”
“You haven’t given me an answer on being my best man.”
Clint’s fork stopped moving. He kept his eyes on the plate. “Sean.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t say my name like you’re about to give me a reason.”
“You’ve got friends. Good ones. Guys from the new job, guys who’ve actually been around.”
“I don’t want guys who’ve been around. I want my best friend.”
He finally looked up. Sean’s face was calm, but his jaw was set the way it used to get on the boat when the weather turned and he’d already made his decision.
“You’ve been hiding down here for three years,” Sean said. “I let you because I thought you needed time. But I’m getting married, and I need my best friend standing next to me. Not the guy who thinks he ruined my life.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. You stopped calling and you stopped answering. I sent you pictures of the engagement ring before I proposed, and you texted back one word. One.” Sean leaned forward. “You know what actually hurts? It’s not the leg.”
Clint’s stomach tightened.
“It’s the fact that you disappeared. You saved my life and then you acted like you’d killed me.”
Clint turned his mug in his hands. Bryan’s morning playlist drifted from the speakers, something acoustic and forgettable, and through the deck doors Clint could hear a pelican hit the water.
He didn’t have a defense. He’d told himself he was giving Sean space, letting Sean build a life without the guy who’d wrecked his leg and ended his career. But Sean was sitting across from him with a cane, a woman he loved waited back home, and he wasn’t asking for space.
“I don’t know if I can stand up there,” Clint said, his voice low.
“Why not?”
