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The wooden stepsof Bobby's front porch creaked under my boots as I approached the door, a comforting sound that spoke of the many years it had stood against the bracing ocean winds. I raised my hand to knock, but the door swung open before my knuckles could make contact.
"Thought I heard your bike rollin' up," Bobby said, his voice like gravel smoothed over by the tides of time. The old man stood there, a little stooped but with eyes sharp as ever, peering at me from a face lined with wisdom and worry.
"Evening, Bobby." I stepped inside, into the warmth of a living room that smelled of wood smoke and old leather. It was a cozy space, cluttered with fishing memorabilia and photos of people who must have been family or close enough to count.
"Take a seat, Sawyer. Want some coffee?" He gestured toward a well-worn armchair as he shuffled toward the kitchen. His movements were slow, careful, but there was a purpose in every step.
"Sure, thanks." I sank into the chair, taking in the walls lined with bookshelves and the model ships that sailed on dustless surfaces. Everything here felt intimate, a reflection of a life lived with heart.
"Damn cold out there tonight," Bobby called out from the kitchen, the clinking of mugs punctuating his words.
"Keeps the mind sharp," I replied, my gaze drifting to a photo of Bobby and his old crew on the mantle.
"Suppose so." Bobby reappeared, carrying two steaming mugs. He handed one to me and took a seat on the couch opposite, his eyes following mine to the photograph. “Different days,” he said, nodding at it. “Seems like a different lifetime.”
“It wasn’t that long ago.”
“Now I know when you’re shittin’ me, boy.”
I laughed, nodding my head as if to say “touche.”
“That Hannah sure lights up the room, doesn’t she?” He asked, changing the subject to one which I’d begun to suspect was his goal in the first place.
"Like a beacon," I murmured, wrapping my hands around the mug, welcoming the heat seeping into my palms.
"Boy, she's got a good heart. Too good sometimes." Bobby's tone shifted, the concern in his voice wrapping around the room like a fog rolling in off the sea. "Don't want her gettin' hurt is all."
"Neither do I," I said, my grip tightening on the mug. In my peripheral vision, I caught the glint of Bobby's scrutinizing gaze, but I kept my focus on the dancing flames in the fireplace.
"Good intentions are like a boat without an anchor—they don't mean much if they can't hold you steady when the waves come crashin' in." Bobby's words hung heavy between us, a gentle warning veiled as wisdom.
"Understood," I replied, taking a sip of the hot coffee to give myself a moment. The warmth slid down my throat, grounding me. "I'm not looking to cause any waves, Bobby."
"See, the thing about waves is they happen whether you're lookin' for 'em or not," he said, setting his mug down with finality. "It's how you navigate 'em that counts."
"Then consider me ready to set sail," I said, meeting his eye at last, letting him see the truth in mine.
The timeworn leather of Bobby's armchair creaked as he leaned forward, his gray brows knitting together in that way that told me he wasn't just shooting the breeze anymore. The room felt smaller suddenly, the walls inching closer with every tick of the antique clock on the mantel.
"Sawyer," Bobby began, his voice carrying the weight of the ocean he'd spent a lifetime navigating, "She's special, and she ain't one of them girls flockin’ to you at the bar."
"You think I don’t know that?" I replied, my gaze steady despite the unease twisting in my gut.
"Maybe." He paused, studying me like one of those old sea captains sizing up a greenhorn sailor. "But you, you're a drifter. Never seen you stick to one woman long enough to let the roots take hold."
I shifted in my seat, my defenses rising like hackles. "Maybe I've been waiting for the right one.."
"Or maybe you'll be gone with the next sunrise, leaving her to pick up the pieces." His voice was gruff, not unkind, but it stung all the same.
"Look, I get it," I said, my words clipped as I pushed myself out of the chair, the need to move, to pace, to do something with the restless energy coursing through me. "I haven't exactly been the poster boy for commitment. But things change, people change."
“You know I love ya, son. I care about you and your well-being. But I also know you. So forgive me for wanting to check where your head’s at.”
A shiver ran down my spine, and not from the chill seeping through the drafty windows. My hands unclenched; one found its way to the back of my neck, rubbing at tension that had taken up permanent residence. "I've never met anyone like her. She trips over her own feet and curses under her breath, and it's the most endearing thing I've ever seen. She takes care of defenseless animals and eases the worries of everyone she meets and when she looks at me, I feel my heart expanding so much it’s a wonder it hasn’t popped out of my goddamn chest.”
"Sounds like you're smitten, kid." Bobby's voice was a low rumble, and I caught a twitch of his mustache that might have been amusement or disbelief.
"Smitten?" I laughed once, sharp and short. "Hell, I'm wrecked. Completely."
