Chapter 7
Maggie had never meant to stay in Florida for a month.
Her intent was to get back to Darkwater by any means necessary.
It had started as a break. Mandatory. A pause she didn't ask for and didn't need.
She'd arrived with a small, single suitcase and the intention to count the days until she could return offshore, back to systems that were being manipulated.
Then Reece became a constant in her life. He wasn’t loud about it, and he didn’t hover. He simply stayed.
Their friendship started small. Coffee, lunch, and dinner. Visiting about nothing in particular or about the news that made the headlines on the televisions that were everywhere.
Then, the small things lead to bigger things.
Theme parks, because Maggie admitted she'd never been to one.
Growing up, vacations meant county fairs and high school football games, not roller coasters and fireworks.
Reece let her choose everything, stood patiently in lines that wrapped endlessly through sunbaked concrete corridors, and watched her instead of the rides.
The first time their hands brushed in line, reaching for the same railing, Maggie felt the warmth of his palm against hers and pulled back quickly.
Too quickly. Reece noticed but said nothing, just shifted his weight slightly closer, the heat of his shoulder a steady presence beside her.
She blushed. She knew she did because her face was surface-of-the-sun hot.
She couldn’t help wondering what his hands would feel like on her again. And … yeah, that prolonged the heat.
"You're smiling," he said as they waited to ride something loud and fast she couldn't remember the name of.
"I'm overstimulated," she said, laughing despite herself. "And I like it."
He watched crowds the way she watched data, his attention always sliding past the obvious to the edges. She noticed how he positioned them. How he always knew where the exits were. How he made it feel normal.
At the end of the day, as fireworks exploded overhead and the crowd pressed close, Reece's hand found hers in the darkness.
His fingers threaded through hers, solid and sure, and this time, she didn't pull away.
She held on, her thumb brushing across his knuckles, feeling the calluses there.
When she glanced up at him, he was already looking down at her, the reflected colors of the fireworks painting his face in blues and golds, and something in his expression made her chest tighten.
They spent days on one of the big lakes, the water stretching wide and calm beneath a sky that reminded Maggie of home. Reece rented a boat without ceremony and handled it with the ease of someone who learned quickly. They swam. They floated on innertubes. They talked about nothing and everything.
She told him about Nebraska. About the way the land rolled endlessly, how you could see storms coming an hour before they arrived. About her parents, still farming, still believing in routine and early mornings, and doing the right thing even when it was inconvenient.
Reece listened. Really listened. The way people did when they weren't waiting for their turn to speak.
He sat close enough that their knees touched on the boat bench, the contact casual, but God, she hoped it was deliberate.
When the boat rocked gently on a passing wake, his hand steadied her lower back, warm through the damp fabric of her cover-up, and lingered there for a moment longer than necessary.
He told her about his family who he loved deeply.
He never said exactly that, but it was obvious with how he spoke of them.
He told her his mom had lived through some tough times but always put her family first. Nothing specific, but enough to know it was deeply personal.
Maggie understood that kind of love instantly.
He told her about his dad and about his discipline, successfully fighting an addiction that had haunted him for most of his adult life.
He was Reece's hero. There was no doubt about it, and when he spoke about his family, he lit up.
Family mattered to him. That was so refreshing.
Most of the people she'd met lately had gone low contact or no contact with parents or siblings for some petty reason or another.
She liked that he had the same attitude toward family that she did.
"That sounds wonderful," Maggie said once, watching the sun slide toward the water. She reached over without thinking and squeezed his hand where it rested on his knee. He turned his palm up immediately, catching her fingers, holding them.
"It is," Reece replied, his voice quieter now. "It always was."
They sat like that, hands linked, watching the light change across the water, and neither of them mentioned how right it felt.
They went deep-sea fishing on a day that started too early and ended with Maggie sunburned, exhausted, and laughing harder than she had in years. She caught nothing. Reece caught something enormous and let it go without ceremony.
"You don't even want to keep it?" she asked.
He shrugged, standing close behind her at the rail, close enough she could smell salt and sunscreen on his skin. "The catching was the point."
When she turned to face him, their bodies were inches apart, and for a breathless moment, neither of them moved. His eyes dropped to her mouth. Her breath caught. Then the boat lurched on a wave, and the moment broke, but the awareness remained, humming between them like a live wire.
Key West came next. A long drive. Music low.
Windows down. Maggie watched Reece more than the scenery, noticing how relaxed he seemed when he was moving, when there was a destination, even if it didn't matter what it was.
At one point, he reached across the console and took her hand, resting their joined hands on his thigh as he drove.
It felt easy. Natural. Like they'd been doing it for years.
They walked. Ate seafood that cost too much, went to Hemingway’s house, and pet the six-toed cats in the author’s home. Then they watched street performers and sunsets that felt theatrical in their perfection. Maggie caught herself thinking more than once that she felt oddly safe with Reece.
On their last evening there, as they stood watching the sun melt into the ocean, Reece turned to her. His hand came up to cup her face, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone, and before she could overthink it, she rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his. Quick. Soft. Testing.
He went still for half a heartbeat, then his other hand slid to her waist, pulling her closer, and he kissed her back. Slow and deliberate. When they broke apart, both slightly breathless, he rested his forehead against hers.
"I've been wanting to do that," he murmured.
"Me, too," she whispered back, smiling against his mouth.
After that, everything shifted. Small touches became constant. His hand on her lower back as they walked. Her fingers were playing with his as they sat. Stolen kisses that grew longer each time until they were both left wanting more and unsure how to bridge that final gap.
Airboats were loud and ridiculous and exhilarating. Maggie screamed the first time the boat skimmed across the water faster than her brain could process. Reece laughed openly, one hand braced on the rail, the other steady on the back of her seat, his fingers occasionally brushing her shoulder.
"You okay?" he shouted over the engine.
"I think I just lost my brain," she yelled back. "It squished out my ears from the G force!"
He grinned at her like that was the best possible answer, and when they climbed off the boat afterward, shaky-legged and giddy, he pulled her close and kissed her temple, then her cheek, then found her mouth.
She laughed against his lips, tasting the wildness of the ride still racing through her bloodstream.
That night, sitting on her hotel balcony with their shoulders pressed together, she looked at him in the dim light and felt the weight of wanting settle in her chest. His hand traced slow patterns on her knee, and when she met his eyes, she saw the same longing reflected back.
The same uncertainty about what came next.
"Reece," she started but didn't know how to finish. “I … I’d like this to continue.”
"I know," he said quietly, his thumb stroking the inside of her wrist where her pulse beat too fast. "Me, too."
* * *
Back in Fort Meyers, Maggie stood on the hotel balcony, phone in hand, watching the last of the daylight fade over the water.
She'd been putting this call off. Not because she didn't want to talk to her family.
She did. She just wasn't sure how to explain what was happening without sounding like she'd lost her mind.
She hit the call button before she could talk herself out of it.
It rang twice.
"Maggie May!" Her mom's voice came through bright and warm, the sound of home wrapped in three syllables.
"Hi, Mom."
"Oh, honey, it's so good to hear your voice. Richard! It's Maggie!"
Shuffling sounds. Her dad's voice in the background, muffled but pleased. "Tell her we miss her."
"Your dad says he misses you."
"I miss you guys, too."
"How's Florida? Are you getting some rest? You sounded so tired last time we talked."
Maggie smiled despite herself. "Florida's good. Really good, actually."
"Really?" Her mom's tone shifted, curiosity sharpening it. "That doesn't sound like the girl who was complaining about mandatory time off."
"I know." Maggie laughed softly. "Things changed."
There was a pause. Then, quieter, more careful. "Changed how?"
Maggie took a breath. "I met someone."
Silence.
Then, from somewhere in the background, one of her brothers, probably Tyler, shouted, "She met a guy!"
Another voice, definitely Mason, yelled, "Does he know about the spreadsheets?"
"Does he know she alphabetizes her pantry?" That was Caleb.
"Boys!" Her mom's voice turned sharp. "Out. Now. Go check the fence line or feed something."
"Mom, we just—"
"Now."
Grumbling. Footsteps. A door closing.
Her mom's voice came back, softer now. "Okay. They're gone. Tell me everything."
Maggie exhaled, relief flooding through her. "His name is Reece. Reece King."
"And?"
"And he's … Mom, he's really kind."
"Kind how?"
Maggie leaned against the balcony railing, the metal cool under her hand. "He showed up when I needed help. Two guys were bothering me, and he just stepped in. Didn't make a scene. Didn't try to be a hero. He just made them leave."
Her mom was quiet for a moment. "That sounds like a good man."
"He is," Maggie said, feeling the truth of it settle in her chest. "He's been spending time with me. We've gone to theme parks, lakes, and fishing. He listens when I talk. Really listens. And he makes me laugh."
"You sound happy, sweetheart."
"I am," Maggie admitted. "I didn't expect to be. But I am."
"What does he do?"
Maggie hesitated. "Security work. He doesn't talk about it much."
"Is he good to you?"
"Yes. He holds my hand. He makes sure I'm safe. He doesn't push. He just … stays."
Her mom's voice gentled. "That's what matters."
"I really like him, Mom."
"I can tell."
Maggie closed her eyes, the admission feeling both terrifying and right. "I think it might be more than that."
"Oh, honey."
"I know it's fast. I know it sounds crazy. But being with him doesn't feel fast. It feels right."
Her mom was quiet for a long moment. Then, soft and steady. "Does he treat you with respect?"
"Always."
"Does he make you feel safe?"
"Yes."
“Has he ever pushed for more than what you were willing to give him?”
Maggie laughed. “No, actually, it’s the other way around. He’s been very careful not to go too fast. He’s amazing, Mom. He’s … everything.”
"Then trust that, Maggie. Trust what you're feeling. You've always been smart about people. Don't second-guess yourself now."
Maggie's throat tightened. "Thanks, Mom."
"When do we get to meet him?"
"I don't know," Maggie said, smiling despite the ache in her chest. "Maybe soon."
"Good. I want to meet the man who made my girl sound this happy."
They talked a little longer. About the farm. About her brothers. About nothing that mattered and everything that did, and when Maggie finally hung up, the sun had fully set, and the balcony was dark except for the glow from the room behind her.
She stood there for a moment, phone still warm in her hand, and let herself feel it.
The happiness. The fear. And the hope for certainty in a new relationship.
She was falling for Reece King.
And she wasn't sure she wanted to stop.
* * *
Through all of it, the worry about what she would do about the anomaly in the program never fully left her thoughts. Darkwater sat in the back of her mind like an unfinished system. The problem was there. Quiet, persistent, and unresolved.
Sometimes she caught Reece watching reflections in windows or scanning crowds without breaking their conversation. Sometimes she noticed the way he checked his phone and then slipped it back into his pocket without comment. He never told her what he was doing. She never asked.
Trust had settled between them slowly, the way real trust did.
Not because he promised her anything. But because he showed up.
Every day. Again and again. Because he held her hand in crowded places and kissed her like she mattered.
Because he looked at her like she was his destination, not just a journey.
She stopped pretending she wasn't thinking about work. And she stopped pretending she wasn't falling for the man who’d made Florida feel less like exile and more like home.