Chapter Twenty-Seven
EMERY
WAKING UP IN Reid’s arms is nothing short of amazing.
The warmth of his skin against mine, the way our legs stayed tangled all through the night, the steady rhythm of our synchronized breathing.
It’s almost too much to process. I’m sure everything is heightened by the recent events, but we slept through the night clinging to each other as if sleep itself might tear us apart. I’ve never felt anything like it.
“What do you say I go pick us up some breakfast?” he murmurs in my ear, tugging me closer. His voice is rough with sleep, and the sound vibrates down my spine.
I’ve drifted in and out of dreams for the past hour, half-awake, half-floating in that space where reality blurs with all your deepest desires. The sunlight creeping through the blinds finally forces me to open my eyes.
I roll over to face him, blinking against the golden light. For a moment the world narrows to nothing more than this bed and this man.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Hey,” he rasps, brushing hair off my cheek. His thumb lingers for a heartbeat too long and my pulse picks up.
“So, this is new.” A nervous laugh escapes me, and I feel like a teenager again, completely undone by her first crush.
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” He studies me with that quiet intensity of his. “Are you…good with this? No regrets?”
“No regrets,” I echo. The truth of my words catches me by surprise. “Are you?”
He pulls me into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around me and planting a kiss on the crown of my head. “Emery, you’re the first person I’ve let break down my walls in years. Now I see how much I have needed connection. So, yeah, I’m so good with this.”
“Great,” I breathe, snuggling into him.
He lies with me for a moment longer before rolling out of bed and stretching.
I watch as he pulls on some gym shorts and a T-shirt, slipping his feet into a pair of sandals. It’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him and something in my chest twists. I get to see him like this.
“I’ll get us some food. Be back in a bit.” And then he’s gone.
Once I hear the door shut, the silence washes over me.
I nestle back under the down comforter, my skin still tingling from his touch.
And I marvel at how for the first time in a long time, I feel wanted, cared for, seen.
Not as a distraction or a problem to be managed as Jason so often treated me—but as myself.
Exactly as I am. And yet, beneath the glow of it all, I’m left wondering why the hell he has been alone for so long.
What ghosts keep him company when the lights go out?
I stare at the empty doorway, wondering if he’ll ever trust me enough to let me see the parts of himself that even he is afraid to face.
BY MONDAY, I’VE managed to convince Reid to let me go back to work.
He’s protective but surprisingly agreeable.
I can’t hang around his cabin all day. No matter what dangers lurk around this sleepy little town, I’m still being paid my annual salary to conduct my research and it’s time to do my job.
We move through the morning in an easy rhythm, with the kind of quiet familiarity that feels like we’ve done this a hundred times before.
We stop by Poppy’s for coffee and pastries, before going our separate ways for the day.
There’s something about the ritual of normalcy: caffeine, sunshine, purpose.
Kayla is on summer break and keeps me company most of the day.
We start by compiling all of Dr. Young’s notes on the turtles with my own.
Something about her final entries feels…
unfinished. The notes don’t taper off or resolve—they just stop mid-thought.
One page is dense with questions and margin notes, hypotheses circled and underlined, arrows pointing toward next steps.
And then suddenly, nothing. Maybe, it’s because she passed away, but it almost reads like she was on the verge of some kind of breakthrough—as if she knew what I know—and then suddenly, nothing.
Kayla thinks someone found out about what Dr. Young had discovered and silenced her.
I don’t indulge her theory, at least not fully.
She’s a teenager, and the last thing I want is for her to feel afraid of the place she’s called home for her entire life.
But I can’t shake the feeling that she’s not entirely wrong.
Nevertheless, she’s inspired and is encouraging me to finish this research.
So, we spend the morning sketching out the next phase of the study.
Our new hypothesis builds on Dr. Young’s work: the terrapin population isn’t just declining, it’s being displaced.
Nesting grounds are being disrupted by increased boat traffic, chemical runoff, and possible illegal activity in the surrounding marshes.
My working theory is that the routes used for smuggling are the same channels vital to the terrapins’ migration and nesting cycles.
If we can document changes in the turtles’ GPS-tag patterns and correlate them with unusual boat traffic, we might be able to prove it. Whether or not I actually want to risk my life by publishing these findings is another thing.
Regardless, it feels good to have my mind occupied again. When I walk the docks to meet Reid for lunch at The Drift Net, I even feel happy. The sun is shining off the still bay, gulls are crying, circling overhead in search of their next meal, and people are milling about. It almost feels normal.
“Hey, baby.” Reid sneaks up behind me, his breath tickling my ear.
I turn my head to catch a smile on his face that stops me in my tracks.
“I didn’t know you actually could smile this big,” I tease, planting a kiss on his lips. “You must be in a good mood.”
Things between us feel so right, so normal. Almost like it was always this way. Reid today isn’t even a little bit like the man I met six weeks ago.
“It’s because you’re here.” His voice catches and for a moment, I wonder if he’s letting himself relax into this, if his guard is coming down. His hands linger at my waist, and he pulls my back into his chest, sucking in a breath.
“Will you two get a room?” calls a shirtless Tate, brushing past us in the direction of the bait shop.
“We have one, thanks,” Reid calls after him, laughing in a carefree way I’ve never seen. He lets his arms fall and links my hand with his. “Come on, let’s eat.”
THE DRIFT NET is casual, like everything else around here, so it’s seat yourself.
Reid leads me to a table at the far side of the restaurant, overlooking the bay.
There’s a salty breeze blowing through, and the only noise is the soundtrack of summer, sounds of flapping water and sea birds flying overhead.
Tidehaven, in many ways, is like the Jersey Shore, where I’m from, but much quieter.
The town is so small, it almost doesn’t feel like a community.
While I came here for solitude to clear my head, that may be the part I miss most.
At home, in mid-June, there are plenty of summer festivals and farmer’s markets. There are beach days with friends and nights out having drinks by the water. Perhaps it’s because I’ve only made friends with Reid, but I am missing a sense of belonging.
Reid hands me a menu and we’re quiet as we both look it over. I don’t even know why I’m looking. I know I’m going to eat fish and chips. Anything besides fresh seafood isn’t an option.
Willie treks across the restaurant to take our order. The look on his face says we’re putting him out.
“You couldn’t sit at the bar today?” he grumbles. “Making this old man walk all the way over here.”
I let out a gasp before biting back a grin.
“Oh, come on, Willie, you’ve already got a table across the way.” Reid gestures to a table of four women in their thirties. A small toddler sits in a highchair, and another woman slowly pushes a stroller back and forth, presumably to soothe a baby inside.
“Yeah, yeah. What’ll it be?” Willie asks, flipping open his notebook.
“Fish and chips, please,” I say, and as an afterthought, “And a Coke.”
“Great. Morgan?”
“I’ll have the same, Willie. Wouldn’t want you to work too hard.” Reid smirks.
“Why are you so happy?” Willie mumbles.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Reid gestures at me and my neck heats.
“Stop,” I say, feeling the flush creep to my cheeks.
“Whatever, love birds.” Willie stomps away.
“So,” Reid says, holding his hand out across the table.
I take it, the warmth of it sending goosebumps up my arm, despite the warm day.
“So,” I repeat. “How come no one expects you to be happy around here?”
Reid brings his eyes up to mine, studying me for a beat.
“I was pretty messed up when I got out of the SEALs,” he admits, his voice edged with sadness.
“Everyone knew it, and people I’ve known since I was a kid kept trying to help me.
Make me feel better. But I kept snapping at them.
I didn’t know how to transition back to civilian life, and I was in a dark place. ”
A quiet “Oh” falls from my lips.
“Before long, I’d earned the reputation of being cranky, mean even. Eventually, most of them stopped trying. They said I’d never be the same.” He scratches his jaw, looking out over the water.
“And? Are you the same?”
He turns back to me, a small smile at the corner of his mouth. “I’m…seeing glimpses of my old self the last couple of months. More so lately.” He squeezes my hand.
“Oh,” I whisper again.
“I was just walking around numb—to everything. Tate is the one who pushed me to get help. Found some Veteran’s groups I could join. He’s the brother I’ve never had.” Reid’s voice trails off. His eyes drop to our joined hands and then flick back to mine. “But you…Emery, you’ve made me feel again.”
Before I can reply, my phone buzzes next to me on the table. We glance down at the same time, and Jason’s name lights up the screen.
“What does he want?” Reid asks, his tender tone shifting toward irritation.
“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him in weeks,” I say, freeing my hand to pick up the phone.
“Tell him you’re with someone else now.”
My jaw falls slack, and I look at him before opening the text. “Is…that what this is?”
“I thought it was obvious.” Reid’s tone softens and he grabs my hand again. “What I just told you…I usually don’t let anyone see those parts of me.”
I lick my lips, letting out a slow breath.
He’s quiet then, watching me open Jason’s text message. A simple “How are you?” and nothing more. I lock my phone with a sigh and set it down without replying.
Reid turns his gaze back toward the water, silence weighing heavy between us.
It’s not like there’s anyone else. I don’t remember ever feeling the things I feel for him in past relationships.
But how much of that is us seeking solace in each other in a time of uncertainty and how much of it is real feelings?
“Reid,” I start.
I’m interrupted by Willie bringing our sodas. As if he can sense the shift in Reid’s mood, Willie sets them down and wanders away without a word.
“Reid.” This time my voice is firmer.
He flicks his eyes toward mine in response.
“If this is going to be a thing…a real thing between us…you have to trust me. I feel like despite all we’ve shared together already, we don’t know each other that well.
My feelings for you are strong, they are.
But how much of it is because I’m afraid and you make me feel safe and how much is because I actually know you?
” I sigh, then quieter. “I want to know you.”
“I want you to know me too. I want us to know each other.” He reaches for me then, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of my hand. The motion is simple, tender, and it undoes me a little. Neither of us moves right away when Willie drops our food.
“I’ll try,” he finally says, like the words cost him something.
“I’d like that,” I whisper.
We eat in a comfortable silence, the kind that settles when something unspoken has shifted.
Outside, the midday heat shimmers across the water, and the chatter of passing dockhands filters in through the open walls.
Ceiling fans whir overhead, stirring the smell of salt and fried fish.
For the first time in a while, it feels possible to breathe again.
“The Fourth of July Festival is going to be huge this year.” A woman’s voice cuts across the restaurant, breaking our silence.
The women at the next table burst into excited chatter.
“Fourth of July Festival?” I glance at Reid, with a small smile. “You mean this town actually has community events?”
Reid scoffs in mock offense. “Of course they do.”
“It’s just been so quiet around here, I didn’t expect anything would go on for the Fourth of July.” I shrug, plucking a fry off my plate and popping it in my mouth.
He leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips.
“As you can imagine, it’s not really my thing.
It draws a large crowd though, so I usually work extra security for Colt.
” He pauses, pointing to the small boardwalk that starts beyond the research center and goes along the bay.
“It’s a big block party sort of thing on the boardwalk.
Lots of vendors, crafters, food trucks, a boat parade.
Fireworks over the bay at night. People get really jazzed about it. ”
“Huh,” I say, chewing slowly. “Maybe I could have a turtle booth.”
Reid arches a brow. “Do you really think that’s wise?”
“It could be a sea turtle awareness booth. Or marine life in general.” I shrug, a surge of excitement running through me. “I bet Kayla would help me.”
“Oh boy, here we go,” he mutters with a shake of his head, but there’s a trace of a smile there.
“What? I bet a lot of people would like to learn about marine life conservation,” I say with mock defensiveness. “You’re just being a stick in the mud.”
“I’m just picturing you causing a scene on the boardwalk.”
“Aww, come on. It’s exciting!” I give him my most convincing grin.
He doesn’t say it, but I see it in his eyes—a mix of amusement and underlying worry. Like he already knows, excitement here rarely comes without a cost.