Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
The charter agency’s main office was on the marina—simple, low-key, a converted two-story building with painted shutters and potted palms. Russ had been here more times than he could count, usually to pick up a schedule, turn in a report, or debrief a trip.
Never like this.
They were to park and leave the van here for the next charter; they’d docked the Latitude nearby.
The charter hadn’t been a round-trip this time, since they’d picked up the passengers on Moorea, but that was often the case.
He was scheduled to take out another group, however, from this dock, for seven days this time, starting Wednesday.
If he didn’t get fired.
He sat in the passenger seat of the rental van, duffel bag behind him, hat in his lap, staring straight ahead while Malik parked the van in the marina lot.
“You sure you want to come in?” Russ asked, glancing sideways .
Malik shifted into park and looked at him like the question was ridiculous. “I already told you. The answer is yes.”
Russ gave a quiet nod, throat tight. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Malik unbuckled and grabbed his sunglasses off the dash. “For the record, man… I didn’t see it at first. I had my own thoughts. But watching the way you handled everything? What she meant to you?” He shook his head. “You did right by her. You did right by all of us.”
Russ ran a hand down his face. “Yeah, well… she meant something. Doesn’t mean I get to keep her.”
Malik frowned. “Really? You two aren’t gonna try to make it work?”
Russ gave a half-shrug. “This kind of thing never works. You know that. Women don’t like being left behind while we’re out there at sea, chartering for weeks at a time.”
Malik pushed his sunglasses up, cocked an eyebrow. “The right woman don’t mind. My woman doesn’t.”
Russ managed a quiet laugh at that. “Yeah, well. Maybe you just got lucky.”
Malik smirked. “Maybe I just picked the right one.”
They headed inside, Malik walking just half a step behind him like backup in a silent showdown. The receptionist gave them a tight smile and told them to go on back—he was expecting them.
Their boss, Marco Larent, was already standing behind his desk when they walked in. No handshake. Just a nod.
“Russ. Malik. Come on in. ”
Russ shut the door behind them.
Marco gestured toward the two guest chairs. “I read your email last night. Thank you for your honesty.”
Russ nodded once, his pulse quickening. He honestly had no idea what Marco was going to say. But Russ had always found him to be fair with his employees.
Russ was ready either way. “I take full responsibility for what happened. My actions were out of line, and I crossed a boundary that shouldn’t have been crossed.”
“And no one else knew?” Marco asked, folding his arms.
“No,” Russ said immediately. “Jules didn’t know. Malik didn’t know until the very end. Neither of them were involved in any way. It was private. I made sure of that.”
Marco looked over at Malik, who added calmly, “I didn’t know a thing until last night. And I can vouch—Captain kept everything professional. Guest safety was never at risk, not for a second. He kept it quiet.”
Marco nodded slowly and looked back at Russ.
“I’ll be straight with you. I’m disappointed.
In five years, you’ve given us one of the cleanest records and the highest guest satisfaction we’ve ever seen.
Some of the best written reviews we’ve had on file and online.
You’ve trained new captains, covered short-staffed jobs, saved more than one charter season. ”
Russ swallowed. “Thank you, sir.”
“This was a serious case of terrible judgment,” Marco said evenly. “And I can’t overlook it. ”
Russ sat still, hands clasped between his knees, waiting.
“I’m grounding you for a month,” Marco continued. “And docking your pay for that period. After that, we want you to finish out the season. Six more charters through the end of August, as contracted.”
Russ blinked. Relief surged so fast it made him dizzy.
Marco pointed a finger at him. “But you so much as flirt with another guest between now and then, we’re done. And I mean done. No goodbyes, no handshake, no glowing letter of recommendation.”
Russ nodded quickly. “Understood. Completely.”
Marco exhaled, then finally sat down behind his desk.
“Look, I get it. People make mistakes. And you were man enough to own yours.”
Russ nodded again, jaw tight with gratitude. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”
“Thanks for coming in, Malik,” Marco went on before Malik could answer, turning back to Russ. “Callen, you’ve got a good man on your side here. Don’t screw this up.”
Malik smiled. “Thank you, sir.”
When they stepped outside, the bright sunlight hit Russ square in the face. He pulled in a deep breath like he hadn’t been able to fill his lungs since yesterday afternoon.
They walked in silence toward the van, keys jangling in Malik’s hand. At the passenger side door, Russ stopped .
Malik turned to him. “You okay?”
Russ nodded once. “Yeah, I am. That went a lot better than I thought it would.”
Malik held out a hand to shake, but Russ pulled him into a quick hug instead. They slapped backs like guys who’d been through something together and didn’t need to say much more.
“Looks like I’ve got a month off,” Russ said when they pulled apart. “Guess I’ll have to find something to keep me busy.” He’d head home for a while, figure things out. The little hatchback he’d bought secondhand on the island four-and-a-half years ago was parked right here at the marina.
Malik smiled. “I doubt that’ll be a problem, boss?”
Russ chuckled, despite the sadness in his heart about Tessa. “You need a ride home?”
“Wouldn’t mind one.” Malik lived just a few miles from the docks.
“Come on, I’ll give you a ride.” He watched his buddy head around to the passenger side of his car, then looked out toward the horizon.
Russ had been shown mercy. He’d been given a clean slate. A second chance. Some time to figure it out before he made his next move. He’d take it.
The sun hung low in the mid-July sky, casting an amber glow across the open water. The Latitude glided smoothly through the gentle waves, the wind perfect, the sea calm. Too calm, even .
Russ stood at the helm, one hand on the wheel, the other loosely at his side.
This was his first charter back after the month-long grounding, and everything had gone off without a hitch.
The boat was impeccably clean, the guests were delighted with the food and the service, and the weather had been dry, as usual, for this time of year.
His guests were on deck at the bow, enjoying the breeze as the boat cut through the water.
This time, a group of recently retired business executives and their spouses, who were lounging and chatting, drinks in hand, while music played softly from a portable speaker.
They’d requested a day playing golf on Moorea, and apparently, they’d enjoyed all eighteen holes.
Malik was back on Russ’ crew and hadn’t missed a beat. Jules had been assigned a different boat this run, but he was hoping to sail with her again before his contract ended.
Still, even with everything humming like clockwork, something was missing.
Someone.
Yes, the next six days of the charter loomed endlessly, especially when he stood here on the top deck where he and Tessa had gotten to know each other all those nights under the stars.
And here at the bridge, where she’d stood by him so many times, wanting to know everything she could about sailing and about him.
His lip curled at the memory. What was she doing now?
Malik stepped up beside him, carrying two bottled waters, and handed one over. “Smooth run today,” he said, leaning on the railing. “Not bad for a guy who forgot how to drive a boat.”
Russ smirked. “Please. I was born on a boat.”
Malik took a swig and squinted out at the horizon. “Guests are happy. Crew’s tight. Weather’s good. So why do you still look like someone stole your dog?”
Russ didn’t answer right away. Just watched the sun glint off the bow as the boat cut a clean line through the waves.
Finally, he said, “Ever make a decision you thought was the right one… only to regret it every day after?”
Malik raised a brow. “We talking about a job or a woman?”
Russ gave him a look.
“Ah.” Malik nodded slowly. “Yeah. Thought so.”
He sighed. It hadn’t been easy not contacting her. Keeping his resolve that a clean break was the only way to handle it. But he’d kept it. For better or for worse. And most of the time, it was… for worse.
Splitting may have seemed like the right decision at the time, but he couldn’t get used to the idea that she’d never be a part of his life again.
The days felt longer without her, the nights lonely, everyday activities, in paradise though he was, had lost their appeal.
It seemed like he might never be able to shake his bachelor status because no one else could possibly appeal to him after her.
And he’d never had these kinds of regrets before.
Sure, he’d only known Tessa a little over a week.
But she’d opened her heart to him, with no strings attached, with no expectations, without fear.
That kind of thing was as rare as the particular type of black pearl, known only to French Polynesian waters, that he’d taken her to see.
She’d said he made her brave, but he knew, without a doubt, that she was already brave before she met him.
And he needed someone like that, someone who wasn’t afraid to just dive in and fall in love. Live life to the fullest, even if it scared you. Because that was how he functioned. That was one of the reasons their chemistry had been off the hook.
He sighed and shook off the thoughts for the hundredth time that week.
At least he’d kept himself busy trying to figure out his next move, since he’d certainly had the time. The past month had been spent sending resumes to one job opening after another.
All of them were located in the United States, the majority, with luxury charter companies in Florida, Alabama, and Louisiana, but a few of his resumes had gone to Maryland, New York, and Massachusetts when he’d become desperate.
He’d only heard from six of them, had interviewed twice, and had been turned down both times.
It was a competitive field, with loads of qualified candidates around the world who’d do anything for such a position.
It was no wonder he’d had so little luck. He’d even started applying for first-mate positions and for different kinds of operations, like fishing and cargo fleets in the States. But he hadn’t heard from any of those yet, either .
His phone buzzed in his pocket. They were close enough to land that he still had a few bars of service. It was probably a crew update or another announcement from the main office.
But he kept his eyes on the water as the boat approached another vessel. He nudged the wheel slightly to port, adjusting their course as the catamaran met a light crosswind. The sun was sinking lower behind him, casting long shadows across the deck.
He saw his guests give a friendly wave to the other boat, and a few passengers on board the other boat waved back.
His whole decision to leave home and move half a world away had been impromptu five years ago, unplanned. He’d taken the first job as far away from Florida as he could get.
His family had even called it reckless at the time.
Couldn’t believe he’d done it. But this time, it wouldn’t be unplanned, wouldn’t be spontaneous.
It might look as though it was, from the outside—especially since a woman was involved, again—but the truth was, the desire to move back had been brewing for over a year.
His eyes flicked down to the console as he scanned the navigation panel—battery status, depth, wind angle. Everything read steady and smooth.
It felt like he’d tried it all, seen it all. And he could’ve kept going through the motions, except that Tessa had left such a deep hole in his heart. She’d created an emptiness that wasn’t there before, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it .
Safely past the other vessel, he retrieved the phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen.
It was a text.
From Walker. Of all people.
Got that Florida contact for you that I mentioned a while back. Guy’s name is Ben Harwell—runs a fleet out of Biscayne. One of his older captains is stepping down end of September, retiring. Might be worth your time to check it out. I can put in a good word for you. You want the number?
Russ froze. He reread it once, then again.
A good word for him? End of September? His lips parted.
That wasn’t long after his last contracted trip here would finish. His heart kicked once in his chest.
A sense of relief flooded him. He’d given up on Walker at least two weeks ago when he hadn’t sent the contact along. And he hadn’t wanted to ask after what happened on the beach, even though they’d talked later. It just seemed like he’d have been overstepping, pushing his luck.
But Captain George Walker did believe in him, apparently. He’d meant what he said.
Russ looked out across the ocean, then quickly thumbed back a reply.
Yes. Absolutely. Please send the number. That timing’s perfect. Can’t thank you enough.
Three dots appeared, then.
Forwarding it to you now. I’ll drop him a line. Good luck, Callen. I hope it works out.
The contact came through seconds later.
Ben Harwell–Key Biscayne Charters .
Russ saved the number, his hands slightly shaky now—not with nerves, but with adrenaline. With possibility.
If this worked out—should he even dare to dream it—he could finish out here clean. Call Ben this week and get the ball rolling. Wrap up the summer. Get back to Florida. Find a place to live. Maybe even be settled in by the time October rolled around.
If he got the job.
And Tessa... Did he still have a shot with her?
He didn’t let himself think too far ahead. Not yet.
But for the first time in weeks, the future didn’t look like open water.
It looked like land. Like something solid. Like a second chance.