Page 61 of Archer

That earned me a small smile before he quickly hid it away.

After breakfast, I dressed for our walk and met Archer in the living room.

He handed me a bottle of sunscreen when I emerged. “You’ll burn.”

It was fifty-seven degrees, but I took the sunscreen anyway and rubbed it over my freckled face while Archer watched.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

I rolled my eyes. So far the communication was off to a great start.

We left through the deck door, crossing the weathered wood and stepping down onto a mix of dormant, patchy grass and sand. The path to the beach was narrow and long before opening to the seemingly endless stretch of beach in both directions. Waves rolled in, steady and calm beneath a cloudless blue sky. The complete opposite of yesterday’s moody weather.

Archer took my hand as we walked, his palm warm and calloused against mine.

“I used to come out here every morning when I’d visit Gram.” I kicked at bits of seaweed clumped on the shore. “She’d make sweet tea or a picnic and we’d watch the tide and birds for hours. She said the ocean had all the answers I’d ever need. I just had to know how to listen.”

“Does it?”

“Sometimes. Mostly it just makes me feel small. In a good way. Like my problems weren’t as big as I thought they were.”

“Your problems are plenty big right now.”

“But we’re closer to solving them every day.” I looked up at him, enjoying the sun on my cheeks and his hand in mine.

Archer’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.

We walked in silence for a while, alone with the crash of waves and the cries of gulls. The sand was dotted with shells and small stones worn smooth by the current. Salt air filled my lungs.

How could life ever be bad when there was also this?

“Did you always want to be a singer?” Archer asked.

I dragged windblown hair away from my face. “I did.”

“Most people don’t know what they want to do in life until they’re grown. Hell, a lot of grown folks still aren’t sure, even after years in their current career.”

“Did you always want to be a Marine?”

Archer slowed to a stop, turning to face the ocean. His arm slid around my waist, and I leaned into him, fitting perfectly against his side.

“When I was eight, I wanted to be a park ranger.”

My smile widened.

“I thought it was the coolest job in the world. I would get to live in the mountains, help people, protect wildlife. What else could a guy want?”

“Truly,” I said. “What changed?”

“My dad and sister wanted me to take over the family business. Construction.” He paused. “The Marines offered education, training, and purpose. With the added benefit of providing me a reasonable way to avoid becoming a foreman or hurting my dad by telling him that his dream for me wasn’t mine.”

I burrowed into my hoodie as the wind picked up. “I guess things all work out.”

“They do. I’d never trade my time in the service.” He squinted against the glint of sunlight off the water. “The Marines made me who I am, taught me about myself and introduced me to some of the best men in the world. But sometimes I wonder what eight-year-old me would think of how I turned out.”

I reached up and stroked his cheek, turning his face toward mine. “I bet he’d be proud. You help people. You protect people. You’re exactly who you wanted to be, just with a different uniform. And there’s plenty of wildlife on this island. It wouldn’t be hard to find a way to help them too.”