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"Never thought I'd see the day." He uncrossed his arms, leaning forward, elbows on knees.
"Me neither," I admitted, and it was the truth. "But here we are."
"Here we are," he echoed, and I saw something pass behind his eyes—consideration, maybe, or just the reflection of the fading daylight glinting off his coffee mug.
"Listen, Bobby," I said, the words tumbling out with a ferocity that surprised even me. "I don't know what happens next, but whatever it is... I want her to be a part of it. And I want to be a part of hers."
He scrutinized me for a long, silent moment, and I held his gaze, letting him see every ounce of my sincerity. The clock ticked loudly, marking time and testing patience, until finally, Bobby leaned back again, a quiet concession in the creak of his chair.
"Alright, Sawyer," he said at last. "Good."
"It is." My relief was a living thing. And my will to prove myself to Bobby and to Hannah had just grown more than I ever thought it could.
thirty-two
SAWYER
The screen’sglow was the only light in my makeshift home office, a far cry from the dim ambiance and clinking glasses of the bar where I used to sling drinks. My fingers danced over the keyboard, every keystroke carving out a piece of the future I had been hesitant to chase until Hannah showed up with her damn belief that I could be more than just a bartender with good hands.
“Shit,” I muttered, backspacing furiously as a line of code refused to compile. My brain was a tangled web of if-then statements and loop-de-loops of logic that somehow made more sense than the real world outside the window.
“Come on, you got this...” Talking to myself wasn’t exactly new; it was the company I kept while wrestling with these digital demons. But after so long, the lines of code made me see double, a sure sign I needed a break.
The cool ocean breeze wafted in as I stepped onto the porch, leaning on the railing and taking in the rhythmic crash of the waves. It was late, the rest of Moon Harbor likely asleep, but for me, the night was when things came alive—the code, the problem-solving, the quiet buzz of potential humming through my veins.
“Back to it then,” I said to the moon, its silver light a silent cheerleader. With each success, I felt closer to something real—something that mattered. Each function and variable was a step away from the past, a mix not poured by my hands but crafted by my mind.
The screen finally displayed the desired result, a simple confirmation message, but the triumph was anything but simple. I leaned back in my chair, a grin splitting my face, my heart thumping hard enough to rival the breakers outside.
“Did you see that, ocean? That’s progress.” I knew it sounded crazy, talking to the water like it could understand, but it had become a listener to all my frustrations and small victories.
I let out a long breath, my gaze lingering on the endless black water. The ocean had seen Moon Harbor through everything—the calm, the storms, the recoveries. And here it was, witnessing my own transformation, too.
Tomorrow, I’d show Hannah. She’ll probably say something infuriatingly supportive and make it sound like I just invented the next big thing. The thought warmed me more than the whiskey I sometimes missed. But right now, the fire in my belly was stoked by ambition, not alcohol.
“Alright, time to shut down,” I said, powering off the computer. My dreams weren’t coded in zeros and ones—not completely. They were woven into the fabric of this town, into the threads that connected me to Hannah, to a future that I was just beginning to write.
* * *
The sun was setting, casting a fiery glow over the cozy living room where I sat next to Hannah, my legs stretched out and a laptop open between us. The scent of her homemade lasagna still hung in the air, and there was a comfortable warmth that had nothing to do with the food.
“Okay, so this is what I’ve been working on,” I said, tapping a few keys to bring up the code I’d been slaving over. “It’s not much, but it’s like... every line I figure out, it’s another piece of me falling into place, you know?”
Hannah leaned in, her green eyes scanning the lines of text as if she could actually read them. “It looks...complicated,” she admitted, a small wrinkle forming between her brows.
“Complicated, yeah, but thrilling.” I couldn’t help the excitement bubbling in my voice. “Every time I solve one of these puzzles, it feels like I’m unlocking something bigger than myself. “That probably sounds dumb, but it’s the only way I can describe it.”
She smiled, that warm, encouraging smile that could probably convince a fish it could fly. “I can see it,” she said, reaching out to give my hand a quick, affirming squeeze. “You’re meant for this, Sawyer. It’s like watching someone find the right key for a lock they didn’t even know they had.”
“Thanks, Han. That means a lot, coming from you.” I squeezed her hand back, letting our fingers linger longer than necessary. Her touch effected me in a way I’d never experienced before. But her unwavering support healed something in me, something I thought was broken and buried long ago, “You know, without you, I might’ve just dropped this whole thing when it got tough. You got this way of making me feel like I can do anything.”
“Because you can.” She withdrew her hand, a flush rising to her cheeks, but her gaze never wavered. “You’ve got more determination in your pinky finger than most people have in their whole body. And brains to match, clearly.”
“Brains, huh?” I grinned, nudging her playfully with my foot. “Keep talking like that, and I’ll start thinking I’m some kind of genius.”
“Maybe you are.” Hannah’s laughter was light. “A genius who occasionally needs a little push, but a genius nonetheless.”
“Your pushes are the best kind.” I closed the laptop with a satisfied click. “They don’t make me fall down; they make me want to climb higher.”
