Epilogue
Bonnie
Nine Months Later
I adjust the business cards on the table until Rafe chuckles and takes them from me.
“Hey, those were perfect!”
He sets them on the opposite side before taking a seat and dragging me down into his lap.
It’s the Spring into Summer Festival, Never Harbor’s annual kickoff into summer. Half of the booth is Rafe’s screen prints, and the other half is my illustrations. The entire length of the booth is where Rafe apparently intends to lay me out in front of our entire town.
“People are watching,” I singsong, shimmying in his lap.
“I don’t give a shit,” he murmurs into my neck. “I’m stealing all the time with you that I can get.”
Weekends are the only free time I have now. I graduate from art school in a few months, but that means this summer is packed as I wrap up the last few credits. I switched majors last fall—from graphic design to illustration. It added a couple more classes, but I didn’t mind. The commute to Boston from Never Harbor is barely noticeable, especially when I can come home and crawl into bed with Rafe.
Rafe runs his palm over my thigh, tracing the lines of my new tattoo. He’s been doing that a lot lately—a habit I’m sure he picked up from me when he got his matching tattoo on his chest. It’s my skeleton with a violin. He got his first, and I was shocked. But his soul is mine, and mine is his, so the skeleton ended up on my thigh a couple of months later as well. Ma had to force a smile with that one, and even Lulu laughed at the impulsivity. But she didn’t once say I’d regret it. She knows me well.
I shove Rafe’s hand away from my thigh with a laugh.
“Let’s not be inappropriate, ” I say.
“But I like being inappropriate with you.”
“There are children’s eyes here, people,” Wendy teases, stopping at our booth with Jasper behind her.
My newest niece is strapped to his chest—another member of the granddaughter crew. Poor Sam is still the only grandson.
I hop off Rafe’s lap and run to her, pinching baby Jane’s rosy cheeks. She has brown hair, just like Wendy’s, with the piercing periwinkle eyes of her dad. Not only that, but she somehow also got her dad’s intensity. Jane’s thousand-yard stare could intimidate even the biggest of men. I’ve even seen Starkey turn away when she stares too long.
“You and Lulu are still good to watch over Sam tonight, right?” Wendy asks.
Our cottage debt is finally coming back to bite us in the ass. In exchange for free housing, we promised we’d always babysit when needed.
“Can do. Where’s he at right now?”
“With friends. He’s at that age, y’know?”
Jasper clears his throat. “And don’t say you’re babysitting. He’ll get weird about it. Just say you’re hanging out.”
Preteens.
“Can anyone spare some scissors?” Izzy asks, walking over to our booth and tapping her finger on the tabletop. “I can’t find mine.”
I hand her ours.
“Thanks.” She’s gone before we can even say hi.
“She seems busy.”
“Too busy to hang out with us lately,” I say to Rafe, who nods in agreement.
He pinches my waist. “Doesn’t help you’re busy too though.”
He’s right. I’ve been working as Teagan’s official merch designer for almost a year now, which has gotten me notice from other musicians as well. I wasn’t aware that the punk industry was so small and everyone knew everyone. Leo told me on our last group visit to see Rafe’s mom that he was even hyping me up to bigger musicians, but any more work, and I’d be overloaded. I’ve still got my schoolwork after all.
“What’d she want?” Peter asks.
He’s always a few steps behind Izzy. Whether that’s on purpose or not, I’m not sure. Though it is getting eerie as time passes.
“You can always talk to her and find out,” Rafe says.
“Very funny,” he says back.
Ever since Izzy announced she was opening her own bar on the opposite side of town, Peter’s been like a lost puppy. He knows how to run his bar—he’s always been a people person—but losing the brains behind his operation has been nothing less than devastating. It’s his own fault.
“She’s just advertising her bar,” I say.
“When’s it open?”
“I think it’s still under construction.”
Rafe grunts. “You’d know if you talked to her.”
“Rafe, I swear to God—” Peter says, cutting himself off.
Pete claims he doesn’t like Rafe, but he’s come over to our studio for dinner a lot in the past few months. Normally, they stay up late chatting, even when I crawl up to the loft to go to bed.
He talks about Izzy.
He talks about Izzy a lot.
“It’s good she’s doing that,” Peter says. “We need more variety in town.”
Rafe can’t stand seeing someone in the dumps, and Peter’s been nothing short of pathetic for close to a year since he let Izzy go. Helping Peter is Rafe’s roundabout way of apologizing, but I secretly think Rafe loves his company. He’ll never admit that Peter’s growing on him, but I see Rafe when nobody is looking. And Rafe has a soft spot for a guy down on his luck.
“Staring again?” Milo asks, rapping his knuckles on the table.
Pete side-eyes him. “Funny.” He stops leaning on the booth table and points between all three of us. “ Very funny. Laugh it up.”
Milo grins as Peter walks off, only stopping once he spots Lulu at her booth. She’s running the library’s book sale, smiling at a patron holding a book and asking about it.
“I should go help,” he says. He points toward the table. “I’m gonna go help.”
I don’t have the energy to break down that situation.
“Go help then,” Rafe says.
“Be the best helper out there!” I call after Milo.
Once everyone’s gone, Rafe wraps his arms around my waist and drags me back onto his lap once more. “There. Right where I like you.”
We’ve been through a lot since last summer. Rafe’s relationship with his mom getting strained, mended, broken, then repaired again. It’s a cycle, and it’s not perfect, but it’s one he’s somehow navigating without cigarettes. He doesn’t reach for his pocket anymore. He reaches for me.
I grin, tracing over the silver ring on his middle finger. “Sitting right where I belong.”
“That’s right, Shiv. Right where you belong.”
When I paint Rafe Cohen, I used to only use indigo and mauve. But now I use mahogany. Ochre.
He’s a mix of cool and warm tones.
A bad boy with a soft spot just for me.
A man I see clear as day—flaws and beauty and unease.
I see how Rafe acts when nobody else is watching.
But now he’s always watching me back.
THE END
—
Never Harbor continues in book 4, Over the Moon , releasing 2026!