I shrug. “Don’t have to look that hard.”
Ryan’s gaze shifts to Tara and Jameson. She’s laughing, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder while he talks a mile a minute.
“She’s trying, Dane,” he says, quieter now.
I don’t answer.
When I walk back over, Jameson’s still leaning out over the rail, Charlotte beside him.
“Are the turtles really that big?”
She nods toward the water. “Some are. If we’re lucky, we might see rays too.”
His eyes light up. “Or sharks?”
I swear to God, if I hear about sharks one more time?—
She grins. “Probably.”
“Cool.”
He already looks like this is the best trip of his life.
Ryan wanders over and leans against the rail beside them, listening while Charlotte explains snorkeling—reefs, clearer water around the smaller islands, all of it.
No one interrupts her. No one rolls their eyes.
Ryan even nods along like he’s actually interested.
I hang back and watch.
Everyone’s comfortable around her.
Even Ryan.
That’s what makes it worse.
By the time the sun starts dropping, the marina’s washed in orange and gold. Crew members move across the deck, untying lines, calling to each other while the engines come alive somewhere below us.
One by one, the ropes slip free. The yacht pulls away from the dock, water sliding past the hull as we ease out toward open water.
Jameson’s glued to the rail, watching everything like he might miss something if he blinks. Ryan stands a few feet back, arms folded, looking out over the harbor. Charlotte’s up near the bow again with Dad while a crew member walks them through the route.
Tara disappears inside for a minute, then comes back with a tray of drinks. She hands them out one by one.
She comes to me last, holding out the glass.
“Peace offering?” she says, with a small smile.
I hesitate, then take it without saying anything.
Dad raises his glass once everyone has one. “To family.”
Ryan echoes it.
Charlotte too.
Jameson says it the loudest.
