Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Alex woke before dawn, which wasn't unusual.
What was unusual was the woman curled against his chest, one hand splayed over his heart like she was checking that it still beat. Her wild curls tickled his chin, and her breathing was deep and even, completely untroubled by the thoughts that had kept him awake half the night.
In the gray pre-dawn light, he studied her face—the spray of freckles across her nose, the slight furrow between her brows even in sleep, the curve of her lips that seemed perpetually ready to smile.
She looked younger like this. Softer. Less like the polished influencer and more like the complicated woman underneath.
Tell her.
The thought surfaced unbidden, and Alex's throat tightened.
Tell her what, exactly? That somewhere between the arguments and the banter and the way she made him laugh despite himself, he'd fallen so hard he couldn't see straight? That the idea of her boarding that supply boat made him feel like he was drowning on dry land?
I don't want you to leave.
The words were right there. He could feel them pressing against his teeth, demanding release.
I think I'm falling in love with you.
But his mouth wouldn't cooperate. Twenty-six years of emotional self-protection didn't dissolve overnight, no matter how green her eyes were or how perfectly she fit against him.
So instead of speaking, he made a decision.
If he couldn't tell her, he could show her.
Carefully, so as not to wake her, Alex slipped out of bed and padded to the kitchen. The coffee maker gurgled to life, filling the cabin with the rich scent of brewing caffeine. He moved through the familiar routine—grounds, water, waiting—while his mind raced through logistics.
The sea turtle nest. He'd been monitoring it for weeks, tracking the subtle signs that indicated the eggs were developing normally. If his calculations were right, they were deep into the hatching window now. Could be any day.
She should see it.
Not for footage. Not for content. Just because it mattered to him, and he wanted to share something that mattered with someone who—
Who what, Carmichael? Finish the thought.
Someone who mattered to him, too.
"You're making that face again."
Alex turned to find Lily standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but his oversized t-shirt and a sleepy smile. Her curls were a magnificent disaster, and there were pillow creases on her cheek.
His heart did something complicated in his chest.
"What face?" he managed.
"Your 'I'm thinking very serious thoughts about very serious things' face." She shuffled toward the coffee maker, hip-checking him gently as she reached for a mug. "It's too early for existential crises. The sun isn't even up yet."
"I don't have existential crises. I have research concerns."
"Same thing, different vocabulary." She took a long sip of coffee and hummed with appreciation. "Okay. I'm listening. What's the research concern?"
I'm concerned that I can't imagine my life without you in it, and that terrifies me.
"I need to check on something," he said instead. "On the eastern shore. Thought you might want to come."
Her eyebrow rose—that familiar gesture he'd come to recognize as Lily's bullshit detector engaging. "Is this a 'bring your camera' kind of invitation or a 'leave your camera' kind?"
"Whichever you prefer."
Something shifted in her expression—curiosity, maybe, or recognition that this was different from his usual invitations. "Give me ten minutes."
She disappeared into the bathroom, and Alex let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
You're in so much trouble, Carmichael.
He was beginning to accept that.
The path to the eastern shore wound through the densest part of the jungle, morning light filtering through the canopy in golden shafts that made everything look slightly unreal.
Lily walked beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed with every few steps. She'd brought her camera—of course she had—but it hung at her side, untouched. Like she understood this was something different.
Alex noticed, and filed it away with all the other small things he'd been cataloging about her. The way she'd learned to navigate the jungle floor without stumbling. How she asked questions and actually listened to the answers. The genuine curiosity that lived beneath her curated surface.
"So," she said, ducking under a low branch he held aside. "Are you going to tell me what we're checking on, or is this a surprise?"
"Sea turtles."
Her whole face transformed—eyes widening, lips parting in what looked like genuine delight. Not her camera-ready enthusiasm, but something rawer. Alex felt warmth spread through his chest at having caused that expression.
"Actual sea turtles? Like, in the wild?"
"There's a nesting site. I've been monitoring it since I arrived." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "The eggs should be close to hatching."
"Oh my god. Can we see them? When they hatch, I mean?"
If you're still here.
The thought landed like a stone in his gut.
"It's unpredictable," he said, keeping his voice neutral. "Could be tonight. Could be a week from now. Turtle mothers aren't known for their punctuality."
"How long has it been?"
"About fifty-four days. Incubation is typically fifty to sixty, depending on temperature.
" He found himself slipping into lecture mode, the familiar territory of facts and data.
"The mothers return to the exact beach where they were born to lay their eggs.
They navigate thousands of miles across open ocean using the earth's magnetic field, and decades later, they find the same stretch of sand. "
Lily was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful in a way that made Alex want to know what she was thinking.
"So they always come back?"
Something caught in Alex's chest. A perfect opening. All he had to do was say yes, some things are worth returning to —
"Always," he said instead. Just the one word, stripped of everything he wanted it to carry.
Lily glanced at him, and he had the uncomfortable sensation that she heard what he hadn't said. But she didn't push, didn't pry. Just kept walking beside him, her shoulder brushing his.
Coward, he thought. Complete and utter coward.
They emerged from the jungle onto a stretch of beach that still took Alex's breath away, even after weeks of visits. The sand was pale gold, untouched by footprints except for the tracks leading from the tree line—his own, from yesterday's check.
And something else.
"She came back," he murmured, crouching to examine the fresh disturbance near the dune line. Wide, sweeping tracks that he'd learned to recognize immediately. "Last night. The mother came to check on the nest."
Lily knelt beside him, her knee brushing his thigh. The contact sent warmth radiating up his leg, and he had to force himself to focus on the tracks instead of her proximity.
"Is that normal?"
"It's good. Means she's still in the area, still monitoring.
Some mothers stay close until they're sure the eggs are developing properly.
" He traced the edge of the tracks without touching them.
"It's remarkable, really. She crossed an ocean to be here.
And she'll stay until she knows they have a chance. "
Say it. Ask her to stay.
His jaw tightened, the words lodging somewhere between his heart and his mouth.
"The nest is just here," he said, gesturing toward a subtle depression in the sand. To an untrained eye, it would be invisible. To him, it was a promise waiting to be kept.
Lily moved closer, her camera still forgotten at her side. Alex watched her study the sand with genuine interest—not performing curiosity for an audience, but actually engaged.
"How many eggs?"
"Typically between one hundred and two hundred.
Not all will survive—predators, temperature fluctuations, developmental issues.
But the ones that make it..." He paused, watching her face.
"They'll dig their way to the surface, usually at night when it's cooler.
Then they make a run for the water. It's one of the most incredible things I've ever seen. "
"And you think it might happen while I'm still here?"
The question hung between them, heavy with everything it implied.
"I don't know," Alex admitted. "I wish I could—"
He stopped himself. Wish I could what? Control nature? Stop time? Change the perimeters of our ‘live in the present’ agreement?
"The reef," he said abruptly, standing and brushing sand from his knees. "There's a section nearby I've been wanting to check. We should look while we're out here."
Lily studied him for a moment, something unreadable in her green eyes. Then she nodded, letting him off the hook.
"Lead the way, Dr. Carmichael."
The water was perfect—crystal clear, warm enough to be comfortable, cool enough to be refreshing. Alex adjusted his mask and fins while Lily did the same beside him, her underwater camera housing secured.
He shouldn't have been nervous. He'd swum this reef dozens of times. But something about sharing it with her—about showing her these hidden corners of his world—made his pulse quicken in ways that had nothing to do with physical exertion.
It's just a reef check, he told himself. Stop making it into something.
But it wasn't just a reef check. Nothing with Lily was ever "just" anything.
They submerged together, and the familiar underwater world embraced him.
The reef here was older than the western sites they'd filmed—more complex formations, more diversity of species.
Fish darted through elaborate structures that had taken centuries to build, following patterns that hadn't changed since before humans existed.
Alex glanced at Lily, watching her film with the confidence of a woman comfortable in her skillset.
Even underwater, her movements were graceful, purposeful.
She'd gotten good at this—anticipating his directions, finding angles he wouldn't have thought of.
A real partner in the documentation process.
Partner.
The word settled in his chest with uncomfortable weight.
He led her toward a section of branching coral he'd been wanting to assess, noting the healthy coloration, the active fish populations. Good signs. Maybe Site 7 wasn't as stressed as he'd feared—
Something caught his attention.
A shadow. A wrong shape amid the organic curves of the reef.
Alex changed direction, finning toward it with a sick feeling in his gut. Lily followed, her camera tracking whatever had drawn his focus.
As they got closer, the shadow resolved into something that made his blood run cold.
Fishing net.
A ghost net, tangled through a section of branching coral like a malevolent spiderweb.
The synthetic mesh wrapped around delicate formations, breaking and crushing everything in its path.
Some of the damage was old—coral already dead, covered in algae.
Some was newer, raw edges exposed like open wounds.
And caught in the center, its shell wedged at an unnatural angle, was a sea turtle.
It wasn't moving.
Alex's stomach dropped. He surfaced first, ripping off his mask, and heard Lily break the water beside him a moment later.
"Ghost net," he said, the words coming out clipped and hard. "Abandoned fishing gear. Drifts until it snags on something and just keeps killing."
"Is it—" Lily's voice was small in a way he'd never heard from her.
"Yes." He didn't elaborate. He didn't need to.
They swam back to shore in silence. Alex's mind raced through the implications—the damage to the reef, the protected waters violation, the dead turtle that had probably been alive yesterday, swimming free before some careless fisherman's abandoned net trapped it.
On the beach, he sat heavily on the sand, fury and grief tangled in his chest.
Lily settled beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched. He heard the quiet sounds of her reviewing footage on the camera's small screen—the net, the damage, the turtle's body suspended in the mesh.
"This is in protected waters," she said, her voice shaky. "How is this possible?"
"Because laws only matter if someone enforces them." Alex stared at the water, his jaw tight. "SPECA does what it can, but they're underfunded, understaffed. Illegal fishing operations know they probably won't get caught."
Lily's hand curled into his. She pressed a gentle kiss to his sun-burnished skin—tender, wordless comfort that asked for nothing in return.
That simple gesture cracked something open in his chest.
Tell her, his heart demanded. Tell her you don't want her to leave. Tell her she's become the most important variable in an equation you don't know how to solve.
But the words stayed trapped behind his teeth, suffocating in the same silence that had swallowed every important thing he'd ever wanted to say.
Alex Carmichael had spent his entire career fighting for dying reefs and endangered species, documenting fragile things before they disappeared forever.
He couldn't seem to find the courage to fight for this.