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From inside, the floor creaks with Magnus’s footfalls. “Roof leak,” he calls.
I’m surprised it’s still attached.
“Everything is cracked and crumbling,” he grumbles.
When I came down to Coco Key after what happened with Romy and Ross, I chose this location precisely because I didn’t have neighbors, not like in the rest of town. However, now I’m rethinking that. Well, if I had one particular neighbor.
When Magnus emerges from the dark cabin, he says, “Junk is right.”
“Junk? I mean, you could probably fix them up and—”
He grunts, somewhat disagreeable. “This place looks to be in worse shape than the Driftwood and that’s saying something.”
“I was over there recently. They’ve done an amazing job fixing it up.”
“I think this place is beyond salvaging.” He kicks at a post and it splinters.
“You could give it a chance.” But I’m not sure who’s the fixer-upper here—the buildings or the man with his carefully hidden wounds.
Even at rest, Magnus wears a dangerous expression, but sadness hides behind his eyes. Yet, when he looks at me, I see something else. Protection...affection?
“The Junks were what my grandfather called these cottages. Chip named all the buildings and properties after kinds of ships.”
“Ah, a Junk like a Chinese ship traced back to the Han Dynasty. Used for fishing, trade, and during wartime. Typically, they have a flat hull and battened sail.”
“You do know your history.”
“A bit. They were also used for piracy.” Which was a particular historical interest of mine.
He grunts dismissively. “My grandfather had ideas about that. When Chip passed, he left each of us a property with resources to fix it up. Royal got the resort, Ryan, the ice cream place, he called it the Sloop.”
“Ah, the Sip & Scoop, Sloop. Clever.”
“Me, the cabins on the beach.”
“The property is valuable.”
“These cottages also hold a lot of memories,” Magnus says, moving toward the next building.
Boo has already surveyed each, likely determining they’re bomb free, and he happily chews on a piece of driftwood.
“Good ones?” I ask.
Magnus peeks into the third cottage. “Some. I also would come down here to decompress from time to time.”
“After you were deployed?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s peaceful here. Did it help?”
“I’d like to think so.”
When he gets to the fourth cabin, I follow him inside. It’s dark, damp, and shadowy. The two windows let in minimal light. The bathroom door remains closed. A counter runs along the back wall with shelving on one end.
Magnus turns abruptly and extends his hand, catching mine. “You’re too pretty to be in here.”
His palm is rough. Fingers strong. The contact is electric and so intense, it instantly melts me. Before I was floating, now I’m goo, molten, liquid fire.
