Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Leif
By the time I finish drying Sprinkles, the floor has transformed into a miniature disaster zone, with the scent of wet dog hanging thick in the small cabin. Clumps of black fur cling to the towel, and the big dog releases a moist, weighty sigh that stirs my hair as I crouch beside him.
“Good boy,” I murmur, rubbing behind his ears. “Next time, try to avoid puddles bigger than you are.”
His tail thumps the rug in answer.
In the sitting area, Quinn has already wriggled out of her raincoat and changed into clean clothes. Her curls stick out in damp spirals, cheeks still pink from the cold. The box of toys sits open on the rug, wooden animals and figurines scattered in a bright little battlefield.
“Are you playing knights again?” I ask, folding the towel over my knee.
“Not knights.” She lifts a carved dragon from the pile, holding it aloft in both hands. “They’re rescuing the princess! See? He’s the bravest.”
The dragon, carved from smooth-grained cedar with a lacquered finish, was a birthday gift from her Uncle Blake, and her current favorite for afternoon, free-time adventures.
“Careful on the couch, Quinn.”
“I know.” Despite the warning, she plants one sock-covered foot on the cushion, balancing the dragon on the armrest. “But he needs to fly! The swamp monster’s getting close.”
Sprinkles lets out a chuff, and I open my mouth to warn her again, but before the words can leave my tongue, her foot slips between the cushions.
She pitches forward with a squeak, landing face-first in a throw pillow. The dragon tumbles from her hand, clatters across the coffee table, spins off the edge, and disappears beneath the desk.
I freeze for a heartbeat, listening for the sound of tears.
Quinn lifts her head, blinking in surprise. “I’m okay.” She scrambles to her knees, head whipping around. “Where’s my dragon?”
I retrieve it, and my stomach sinks. The right wing hangs by a splinter, the break running jagged through the wood.
“Oh, no.” Her small shoulders curl inward, breath breaking. “Mr. Hollis, his wing! How can he fly to protect the princess?”
I kneel beside her, assessing the damage with what I hope passes for calm. “He had a rough landing, that’s all. Even the best fliers crash sometimes.”
Tears gather along her lashes, trembling but not yet falling. “Can you fix him?”
I want to say yes, but the truth is, I have no idea how. The only tools I’m confident with belong in a classroom, not a workshop. Still, I can’t bear the thought of her crying over something so loved.
“I’m sure your Uncle Blake can—”
“No!” Now, her lower lip trembles. “He’ll be upset that I broke it!”
“I’m sure he won’t—” I cut off as she shakes her head, braids slapping. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”
I turn the dragon over in my hands. The craftsmanship is remarkable, and this kind of break will take more than glue.
Quinn sniffs, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Emily can fix anything. She fixes houses and bridges and boats. She can fix dragons, too.”
I purse my lips. “You think so?”
“Yes,” she says with complete faith. “But don’t tell Uncle Blake, okay? He’ll be sad.”
“Our secret,” I promise, pressing a finger to my lips.
She smiles then, small and relieved, and returns to arranging the uninjured toys around the coffee table.
I stay kneeling, studying the broken wing in the fading afternoon light. Woodworking isn’t in my wheelhouse, so I can only hope Quinn’s right and Emily will understand what to do with it.
Otherwise, I’ll have to break my small charge’s trust and tell her uncle about the accident.
The wooden dragon sits heavy in my palm as I trace the splintered edge of its wing with my thumb. Each roll of the water taxi sends tiny vibrations up through the bench into my spine, matching the nervous flutter in my chest.
Ridiculous. I’m a grown man fretting over a child’s toy as if I’m planning to propose marriage instead of asking for a simple favor.
At least, I hope it’s simple.
The late afternoon sun catches on the water, transforming the bay into a field of silver ripples with each wave. Salt hangs thick in the air, coating my mouth and making me thirsty.
“Emily, Quinn asked if you might— No, that’s not right.”
I clear my throat, glad no one sits near enough to hear my muttering.
“Ms. Wilson, I heard you work with wood in your pastime, and I was wondering—”
Too formal. Too presumptuous.
“I know you’re busy, but Quinn’s dragon broke, and she said you could fix anything—”
No, that sounds like I’m using Quinn as a manipulation tactic, which is the last thing I want.
My attention drifts toward the bow where Emily stands with Kyle, her silver hair whipping around her face in the wind. Unlike me, she hadn’t changed, and she still wears her mud-splattered work clothes.
She stands with her feet planted shoulder width apart, swaying with the gentle pitch and roll, one hip cocked as she listens to Kyle talking.
The sun strikes her profile, illuminating the straight line of her nose and the firm set of her jaw. She nods at whatever Kyle says, then laughs, the sound carried away by the wind before it reaches me.
A month ago, I’d labeled her as just another Alpha. The type who bulldozes through life, expecting others to fall in line or step aside. The type I’ve learned to keep at arm’s length.
But then came the market confrontation with that horrid Omega, Auren, and everything I thought I knew about Emily Wilson cracked open.
I recall how her shoulders stiffened when Auren approached their table, the way her fingers curled around her coffee cup until her knuckles whitened. The flash of raw pain when he spoke to her, masked but unmistakable.
Not the reaction of someone full of self-confidence. No, I’d seen that expression in my own mirror, the haunted look of a person hurt down to the bone and still piecing themselves back together..
My own assumptions about her sit uncomfortably now, how quickly I’d judged her secondary gender and written her off. Alpha, and therefore insensitive to the struggles of others.
Yet when Quinn tackled her at the mud puddle, Emily’s first instinct wasn’t to reprimand. I had been halfway into the clearing when it happened, rushing to defend my precocious charge, before her unfettered laughter halted me in my steps.
Covered in mud, with the sun turning her hair to liquid silver, the mask of professionalism cast aside in a moment of pure joy, she had been beautiful.
And when she dropped to her knees in the mud to help Quinn build an unsinkable boat, the patience in her touch and the way she spoke to the girl as an equal gave me another peek beneath the mask Emily shows the rest of the world.
The boat engine’s pitch changes, pulling me from my thoughts as we near the harbor, and crew members gather their tools and lunch pails, getting ready to step off for the weekend.
Emily turns from the bow, moving with a steady, confident stride that no longer reads as arrogance to me. Kyle shouts something that prompts her to shake her head, a small smile touching the corners of her mouth.
Jared, who sits on the bench nearest the bow, half rises before thumping back down into his seat. He scrubs a hand over his face and thunks his head against the wall behind him, his eyes closed.
A tension has developed between the two Alphas since the market confrontation. I’ve watched it play out all week with a growing sense of unease.
But it’s not my place to be nosey.
With a sigh, I tuck the dragon into my jacket pocket. Such a small thing to cause such anxiety. But it’s not really about the toy, is it?
The boat slows further, water churning white around the hull as the engines reverse. The deck vibrates beneath my feet as the bow kisses the dock’s rubber bumper.
Jared jumps into motion, vaulting with easy grace over the side of the boat to tie off the front.
“Pinecrest Harbor,” Kyle announces over the intercom. “Please watch your step when disembarking.”
Bodies jump off the boat before Jared can secure the back of the boat or put out the ramp. He huffs with good-natured annoyance, the metal ramp propped under his arm while crew members call out goodbyes as their feet thud onto the dock.
I stand, joints stiff from sitting too long, and wait until Jared finishes setting up the safer exit route. My fingers find the dragon in my pocket again, tracing the damaged wing.
If I don’t ask now, I’ll lose my chance.
Emily moves to the starboard side, her tool bag slung over one shoulder, talking with a crew member who I’ve seen giving orders at the construction site, so I assume he must be her second in command.
I hang back, watching, waiting for an opening that won’t come off as an intrusion.
Jared secures the ramp as Emily finishes her conversation, and her gaze sweeps the deck for any stragglers. When her eyes meet mine, she pauses, her head tilting in acknowledgment, and then she strides toward the ramp.
That brief moment of recognition steels my resolve. I’ll ask her. The worst she can say is no.
Over the side of the boat, I spot Jared waiting on the dock for the boat to empty, hands in his pockets, watching for Emily. Another complication I hadn’t considered.
He’ll hang back for a few minutes to help his cousin, but then he’ll be heading home with Emily.
As she shoulders her tool bag and steps onto the ramp, my heart hammers.
She nods at Jared as their paths cross, though neither Alpha speaks.
Halway down the dock, I force myself to catch up to her before she disappears into the crowd gathered near the parking lot.
My fingers close around the wooden dragon in my pocket as I call out, “Ms. Wilson?”
The formality feels strange in my mouth after weeks of casual encounters on the island, but my nerves default to politeness.
She turns, surprise flickering across her features. The breeze from the water tousles her silver hair, and she tucks a strand behind her ear. “Hey, Leif, what do you need?”
Grateful she didn’t bring up the awkward call out, I extract the dragon from my pocket, its wooden body warm from being pressed against my body. “I have a favor to ask, if you don’t mind.”
Her attention drops to the toy in my palm, and curiosity lights her eyes.
I extend my hand, offering the dragon. “This is Quinn’s. Blake made it for her birthday, but today, she got a little rough with it, and I fear the wing took some damage…” I trail off, suddenly aware of how trivial this request must sound to someone who builds entire houses.
Emily takes the dragon, her calloused fingers brushing mine. The contact sends a fissure of awareness through me, but she doesn’t react as she turns the toy, examining the splintered wing with the same concentration she might give to a blueprint.
“Quinn said you can fix anything.” My hands disappear into my pockets, nerves prickling under my skin. “I thought about gluing it, but the break is too jagged, and any repair would stand out.”
Her fingers trace the fracture with a gentleness that belies her strength. “I can fix it. I’ll take it home tonight and bring it back on Monday. Quinn won’t be able to tell it ever broke.”
The knot in my stomach loosens. “Thank you. She’s been so worried about it. Keeps saying her dragon can’t protect the princess with a broken wing.”
Emily’s mouth curves with amusement. “Can’t have the princess unprotected.”
She tucks the dragon into a side pocket of her tool bag, and the care she shows for this toy that matters to no one but Quinn strikes a chord deep inside me.
I swallow hard. “Thank you.”
She zips the pocket closed. “No problem. It’s an easy fix.”
“Emily!” Jared’s voice cuts through the harbor noise.
I turn to see him jogging down the dock, waving as he approaches. His cheeks flush from exertion, hair tousled by the breeze off the water.
“See you Monday, Kyle!” he calls over his shoulder before reaching us. He grins at Emily. “You ready to head home?”
Home.
The word twinges through me. Home. Not her house. Not her place. Home.
Their home, shared.
It shouldn’t affect me either way, but it does. For over a month now, I’ve returned each night to a sterile hotel room with its bland decor and empty refrigerator. A place to sleep, not a home. Nothing like what they have together.
Jared shifts his body to include me in the conversation. “Hey, Leif, do you have any big plans for the weekend? Maybe hitting up the market tomorrow?”
“No big plans.” I force my lips into what I hope passes for a casual smile. “I’m not needed to look after Quinn, so I figured I could use the time to work on lesson plans.”
“Leif brought Quinn’s toy for me to fix.” Emily pats her bag where the dragon rests.
Jared beams. “Does that mean I can finally see inside your workshop?”
Their easy conversation, how they stand together, neither too close nor too far, speaks of an intimacy I haven’t experienced with anyone in more years than I care to consider. Even with the new distance between them this week, it’s clear they share a connection.
“I should go.” I take a step back. “Thank you again for helping with Quinn’s toy.”
“No trouble at all.” Emily adjusts her tool bag on her shoulder.
“Have a good weekend.” The pleasantry sticks in my throat.
“You, too, Leif,” Emily says.
They turn and walk toward the parking lot together, their strides falling into easy synchronization. Jared’s hand lifts to hover at Emily’s back, then falls away without making contact. But when he leans in to say something, her shoulders shake with silent laughter.
My feet remain rooted to the dock for several heartbeats before I force myself to follow them to the parking lot.
The keys jingle in my hand as I cross to my sedan, parked at the far end of the lot.
The car door handle is hot beneath my palm, the interior stale from sitting closed all day in the sun.
I slide behind the wheel, watching through the rearview mirror as Emily and Jared climb into her truck across the lot.
I start the engine, but don’t immediately pull out.
Instead, I sit with my hands on the steering wheel, and the hollow ache in my chest splinters a little deeper as Emily’s truck pulls out of the lot, heading toward a place they both call home.
With a deep breath, I shift into reverse and begin the drive back to my hotel room, where no one waits, nothing needs fixing, and nothing is broken.
But nothing is whole, either.