I climb aboard first, step onto the deck, and head into the cabin. The air inside carries that same closed-in feeling it always does—old salt, stale air, and something faint underneath it I stopped trying to identify years ago.
We keep the things here that wouldn’t survive outside. Books wrapped against moisture. Papers we couldn’t risk losing. Small things taken from the staterooms we never really needed, but couldn’t allow to decay either.
Everything’s been preserved. Touched by time, but not by weather the way the rest of the island is.
Dane moves through the cabin in his usual way, checking things as he goes, making sure nothing’s been damaged orcompromised. It’s automatic with him—that quiet, constant attention he gives anything he’s decided is his responsibility.
I settle at the table, already resigned to the fact that we’ll probably be here a while.
“We could play cards?”
“Chess,” he calls from below deck.
I lean back in the chair, considering it. “Okay. But you’re going to lose.”
He comes back up with the chessboard tucked under one arm, already looking smug about it.
“Why do you look so pleased with yourself?”
“Because I’m going to win.”
“Probably. But you cheat.”
A quiet huff of amusement leaves him as he sets the board down between us. “I don’t cheat. You’re just reckless with your queen.” His mouth curves slightly. “When you have a queen, you’re not supposed to be careless with her.”
Heat flickers low in my stomach at the look he gives me after saying it. Then he drops his gaze and starts arranging the pieces.
Everything Dane does has the same careful precision. Years out here taught him that mistakes cost you, so now he handles everything like it matters.
We fall into the game the way we fall into most things now—easily, without needing to fill the space with words. Dane opens the way he usually does. I counter the way I always do.
The early moves fall into familiar patterns—small adjustments, quiet pressure, each of us trying to get a step ahead without overcommitting. He knows how I think. I know how his mind works. It turns into a steady back-and-forth, each move just slightly ahead of the other’s expectations.
I take his knight. He takes my pawn.
The cold creeps in gradually. Easy to ignore at first—just a faint bite in the air. Then it lingers. Builds.
The cabin becomes cooler than I expected, colder than it did above deck. I shift in my seat, tuck my arms in a little closer, keep my eyes on the board.
It’s manageable for a while. Until suddenly it isn’t anymore.
Dane glances at me, just a slight shift in focus that tells me he’s noticed my discomfort. “You’re cold.”
“Yeah. I’m going to grab something warmer.” I push back from the table and point at him. “Don’t touch one piece on this board while I’m gone.”
A grin pulls at his mouth, that familiar mischievous look flashing briefly across his face. “It’ll be exactly how you left it.”
I narrow my eyes. “I mean it, Dane.”
“Okay.” He lifts one hand slightly. “I promise.”
I hold his gaze another second, trying to decide if that promise means anything at all. Then I nod once and head toward the aft stateroom.
“I’ll know if you move anything.”
The closet opens with a soft release of still air, carrying that faint scent of fabric and time. Everything exactly as it was left.
Her clothes are still there. Nothing moved or disturbed. I know what’s here without really looking.
