Page 106 of Hearts on the Line

I love summers in Merritt Point. So much of my life revolved around them. But I’ve only ever been here for a few falls—including now.

Morning light filters in through the window, cracked open. The leaves are gold and orange and flutter in the breeze. There’s a wind chime on the porch of the house Ethan and I rented. I could snuggle up in bed, pull the covers tighter over me, and fall deep into sleep now that everything’s cooled down and it feels like there’s room to breathe. But that’s hard when the grumpy lobsterman is between my thighs, doing unholy things to my clit with his tongue. Pleasure rockets through me, and I throw my head back, clutching the sheets in my hands as he moves his way up my body, kissing me softly, his fingers taking me apart inch by inch.

And if this is the way I have to wake up in the morning from now on, then I will gladly do so.

He nudges me apart with his knee and pushes inside me with a single thrust, then seals his mouth over mine. We move together until, finally, we’re both right there on the edge.

This is a whisper-soft promise. He’s been doing it all summer. Now that we have our own place and we’re not a secret anymore, it’s a little louder. I didn’t run, and Ethan has stayed, and we’re figuring out this messy life together.

“Come with me, baby,” he whispers in my ear and presses a hand down on my stomach, tilting my hips. And it’s just enough that I clench around him, falling apart as he holds me, his own release chasing after.

We stay together for a minute, catching our breath before I start giggling and move my hand through his hair.

“Good morning,” I say.

He nuzzles my face, pulling me on top of him.

“I can get used to this,” he says.

“Then do it.” Twelve years was way too long, and we have so much time to make up for. But I’m happy in our little house a few streets away from the beach—a place all our own.

We drove down to New York last week and gathered the rest of my things from Jason’s brownstone and my storage locker. There’s not a lot, but I have my books now. They’re in the living room and in the dining room, the bedroom, the hallway. Ethan’s been madly building bookshelves ever since, and all my books are almost put away. I’m not sorry about it, especially when he flips his hat backward and stands at the saw in the backyard with a pencil clutched between his teeth.

“We’ve got to get going.” I glance at the clock. There’s always a clock now that I run the newspaper.

But Ethan’s been enjoying slower days. Without the restaurant, he goes out in the boat later in the day to haul traps. His dad is planning on selling it in the spring. He’s been sleeping in and just generally catching up on rest. Never seen a man sleep so much. He’s like a downed log—a very attractive log, I’ll add.

“I don’t know how you worked it out that you have today off.”

“It’s called managing, Ethan,” I snicker.

I’ve hired a small team of reporters to help me. Ruth has officially retired, and she’s planning to put her house up for sale soon. She’s decided to spend some time with a friend in Vancouver.

I don’t know what the future holds for the paper. There are a lot of challenges, but I’m determined to make it work.

“I don’t want to go,” Ethan groans.

He rolls out of bed, slips away into the bathroom for a minute, then comes back with a warm face cloth and washes me up.

“We can take a shower together,” I tease.

He kisses me, then lifts me up in his arms and brings me into the shower. It’s a good one—glass shower, double wide—where we say good morning one more time.

An hour later, we’re walking through Main Street, which is closed off for Fall Fest. I have my camera around my neck, a notepad, and my purse. But mostly, I’m here as a spectator. I have the event covered, and today is the day of the big charity bachelor auction where one Jack Murphy is being auctioned off to a lucky lady in attendance. Or man. I don’t judge.

Ethan curls his hand in my back pocket, guiding me through the crowd. There are pumpkins and candied apples, and the air is perfumed with the smell of fresh buttery popcorn, sausage, and peppers. Vendors are tucked in between booths and trailers. The shops are busy, and it’s chaotic, but in the best way—because the town that I have loved, that has made a home in my heart once more, is full of life. And it’s mine.

“Don’t you want to see Jack auctioned off?” he asks.

“Oh, come on.” I pat Ethan’s arm. “You know June’s going to win. She’s been saving up all her bingo winnings.”

“I’m not letting my brother off so easily.”

There’s a stage on the small green up past the general store near the town hall, and that’s where the date auction will be. Sounds like they’ve already started. There’s a man on the stage right now, nearly cowering. The announcer says, “Any takers for Ned Sullivan? I heard he can make a mean beef and beans.”

Ethan taps me on the shoulder. “Go ahead. I won’t be offended if you leave me. Ned makes good beef and beans.”

I bite back my laugh. “Sorry, already taken.”