Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
The ferry horn sounded low and long as Connor eased the car forward, the metal ramp clanging beneath the tires. When the engine cut, Mac opened her door to get out, the wind rushing into the car cool, sharp, unmistakably lake.
She climbed the narrow stairs ahead of him and stepped onto the upper deck. The water stretched wide below, sunlight breaking across it in scattered silver. She rested her forearms on the rail and let the wind tug loose strands of hair she didn’t bother to tuck back.
“Hard to believe this is only a half-hour ride,” she said.
Connor came up beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed when the ferry shifted. “Callum swears the crossing is what makes it feel different.”
She smiled and looked out toward the horizon. Behind them, the mainland receded, familiar shapes softening into blue.
“I can’t believe I’ve never done this,” she said after a moment. “I’ve lived my whole life ten miles from here. Traveled all over the country. And somehow skipped this.”
“Maybe it waited for the right day,” he said. After a beat, he added, “Or the right person to share it with.”
The words surprised her. She turned, studying his face, then nodded once. “Maybe.”
They stood without speaking. Gulls wheeled overhead. The ferry cut steadily through the water, its vibration humming beneath her sneakers. The stillness settled in—not heavy, not awkward, just there. She noticed how easy it felt to let the moment stretch without checking the time or thinking ahead.
After the ferry docked at Detroit Harbor, they discovered an island that was thick with green trees, with narrower roads and a pace that was unmistakably different.
Mac unfolded the island map on the hood of the car and smoothed it flat with her palm. “Okay,” she said. “If you were showing someone around for the first time, where would you take them?”
Connor studied the map for a second, then pointed. “Schoolhouse Beach.”
“Pebbles, right?”
“Cold water,” he said. “Clear enough to see your feet.”
She smiled. “Sounds perfect.”
The drive felt quieter than she’d expected, windows down, pine scents threading through the car. When they reached the beach, she slipped off her shoes without thinking, laughing softly as the smooth stones shifted beneath her feet.
“Oh wow.” She bent to pick one up, rolling it between her fingers. “These feel ancient.”
“They kind of are,” Connor said, skipping one cleanly across the surface. It bounced three times before disappearing.
She tried next—less distance, more arc—but she grinned anyway. “I’m better at other things..”
“You look pretty good right now,” he said easily.
She shot him a look—half challenge, half warmth—then stepped closer to the water, letting the cold lap over her toes. She inhaled sharply, shoulders lifting.
“That’s bracing,” she said.
He joined her, shoes still on, the hems of his jeans darkening with spray. They stood side by side, watching swimmers farther out and kids daring one another to jump from a floating red dock.
“This place,” she said quietly. “It’s different.”
“Yeah.”
“Not smaller.” She shifted her weight, stones clicking beneath her feet. “Just…slower.”
Connor nodded. “You notice more.”
They walked the length of the beach, stones tapping beneath their steps, conversation drifting in and out—stories from childhood, favorite places they’d lived, moments that had surprised them about being back home.
When hunger crept in, they found their way to Jackson Harbor and claimed an outdoor table. Steam rose from their bowls of soup. Boats rocked gently behind them.
“This,” Mac said, lifting her spoon, “is exactly right.”
Connor smiled. “Low expectations, high reward.”
They lingered longer than she’d planned, neither of them checking the time.
“I keep thinking how you missed this,” Connor said.
“When you’re focused on a goal, everything else takes a back seat.” Mac’s lips tipped into a wry smile. “Other girls had sleepovers and kissed boys under the bleachers at prom. I practiced and avoided anything where I might get injured.”
Connor frowned slightly. “You couldn’t get injured at a sleepover. Or dancing.”
“I didn’t have time for those kinds of friendships,” she said evenly. “I’m talking about beach volleyball. Tennis. Even a summer baseball game with friends.”
“That had to be…” He searched for the word. “Difficult.”
She shrugged. “At the time, training was my life.” Her fingers traced the rim of the bowl. “It’s only recently that I’ve started wondering if all the sacrifices were worth it.”
“And what have you concluded?” he asked quietly.
She didn’t answer right away, then she looked up. “Yes. The sacrifices were worth it.” Her voice stayed firm. “That doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes wish things could’ve been different. That I could’ve had those experiences, too.”
He took a long sip of his drink. “Is that why you left the pros?”
“To re-create my youth?” She shook her head. “No. The past is done. But I achieved everything I set out to do, including helping my team win a national title. After that, I realized I was ready for more.”
Connor blinked. “In Good Hope?”
She chuckled. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“No, it’s just that Good Hope is small. Don’t get me wrong, I love it here. It’s peaceful, welcoming. It’s home. But when I hear someone say they are looking for more, I tend to think of bigger places that have more opportunities.”
“Well,” Mac shrugged, “I guess it comes down to what ‘more’ means for you.”
“And how is it going so far?” he asked. “Your quest for more?”
“So far,” she said, “so good.”
By the time they boarded the ferry back, the sun sat lower, the light softer.
Mac leaned against the rail again, her short hair fluttering in the breeze. “I’m really glad we did this.”
“Me, too.”
She turned toward him more fully. “It’s nice not having to explain yourself,” she said. “Or perform.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
The ferry horn sounded as the mainland came back into view—familiar but subtly altered.
The drive back to their duplex passed quietly. Not heavy or awkward, just unhurried, like neither of them was ready to have the day end.
When they pulled into his driveway, the island still clung to her—wind, water, the rhythm of walking without hurry.
They lingered by the car, neither of them quite ready to mark the end of the day.
“Being with you,” Connor said, his gaze steady, voice deepening, “made today special.”
He stepped closer, then stopped, a question clear in his eyes.
Mac leaned in.
His mouth, warm and sure, met hers, settling and stirring all at once. She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him back without hesitation. When she finally stepped away, her breath came quickly, like she’d just run a hard sprint.
She smiled. “We’re going to have to do this again. Soon.”
The next day, Mac went straight to Bella’s. Wednesday had taken a different turn than usual, but that was the thing about off-season life—she got to choose the play.
Bella’s kitchen wrapped around her the moment she stepped inside—citrus zest, roasted garlic, something faintly sweet. Caramelizing onions layered over steady oven heat while music pulsed low from a speaker on the counter, upbeat enough to match the pace of the room.
Mac stepped inside and barely had time to set her bag down before Bella turned, wooden spoon in hand, dark curls escaping her clip.
“You’re late,” Bella said cheerfully. “Which means you’re exactly on time.”
Mac smiled and tied the apron Bella tossed to her.
The kitchen was alive—sheet pans lined up like soldiers, chopped herbs in neat bowls, stacks of plates waiting on the side counter. This was Chow Bella Catering in full motion.
Bella moved through it all with practiced ease, checking, tasting, adjusting.
“Wash your hands,” Bella said, already turning back to the stove. “Then grab the shallots. Fine dice. Not murder dice. I need them to disappear, not announce themselves.”
Mac did as she was told, rolling her shoulders as she settled at the prep counter. The knife felt good in her hand—familiar, controlled. She started chopping.
Bella glanced over after a moment. “You’re quiet.”
“I’m concentrating,” Mac said.
Bella hummed. “You don’t concentrate like that. You brood like that.”
Mac snorted softly and kept chopping.
Bella slid a tray into the oven and leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. “Okay. You went somewhere yesterday.”
Mac paused, then resumed dicing. “I went to Washington Island.”
Bella’s eyebrows lifted. “You did not.”
“I did.”
“With Connor Brody,” Bella added calmly, like she was stating the weather.
Mac shot her a look. “How do you—”
“You don’t suddenly take a ferry for personal growth,” Bella said. “Also, you’re chopping shallots like they owe you money.”
Mac sighed and set the knife down. “It was just a day-trip.”
“Mmm,” Bella said, reaching for a towel. “That’s what people say right before they tell me something mattered.”
Mac wiped her hands on her apron and leaned back against the counter. “We took the ferry. Walked. Ate soup. Talked.”
Bella waited.
“It was…easy,” Mac added after a beat. “Quiet.”
That got Bella’s full attention. She turned off the burner and faced her. “Quiet how?”
Mac searched for the right words, then shrugged. “Like I didn’t have to fill the space. Or explain myself. Or be on.”
Bella smiled, not teasing this time. Soft. “That’s new for you.”
“Yeah.” Mac picked up the knife again, working slower now. “I didn’t even realize how much I was doing all that until I wasn’t.”
Bella watched her for a moment, then nodded once. “Washington Island does that to people. It slows you down whether that’s what you’re looking for or not.”
Mac smiled faintly. “I kept thinking how ridiculous it was that I’d never been there. Ten miles away my whole childhood. I went everywhere else.”
“When you’re chasing something,” Bella said, reaching for another tray, “everything else becomes background.”
Mac glanced at her. “You sound like you’ve thought about that.”
Bella shrugged. “I spent my twenties cooking for everyone else’s milestones. Weddings. Anniversaries. Celebrations that weren’t mine.” She slid the tray into place. “Doesn’t mean I regret it. Just means I notice when someone finally stops running.”
Mac leaned her shoulder against the counter.
“Funny thing about winning the whole thing,” she said after a moment. “Everyone assumes that’s the moment everything finally feels settled.”
Bella tilted her head. “And it wasn’t?”
Mac shook her head.
“No. It just meant the climb was over—and I didn’t know what came next.”
Bella studied her for a second.
“So,” Bella said, picking up her spoon again, business back in her voice, “did you kiss him?”
Mac’s head snapped up. “Bella.”
“What?” Bella grinned. “I’m efficient.”
Mac shook her head, laughing despite herself. “Yes.”
Bella’s smile softened. “And?”
Mac thought of the wind, the ferry horn, the way the day had unfolded without urgency. “It felt…right.”
Bella nodded, satisfied. “Good.”
“That’s it?” Mac asked.
“For now, that’s plenty,” Bella said as she handed Mac a bowl of herbs. “Now, toss these with olive oil. And don’t overthink it.”
“The herbs or the kiss?” Mac smiled, shoulders easing as she went back to work.
Outside the kitchen, the rest of the house was quiet. Inside, the clink of utensils and the low hum of food prep filled the space—steady, grounding, enough.
Connor swung his truck into his parents’ driveway, gravel crunching under the tires.
The sharp crack of a hammer echoed from the backyard, followed by the low murmur of voices.
Rounding the garage, he spotted his dad and mom working shoulder to shoulder, Max holding a section of fence steady while Prim swung the hammer with practiced precision.
“Morning,” Connor called.
Max straightened with a grunt, relief flashing across his face. “Morning. You’re just in time. These panels are heavier than they look.”
“Where do you want me?” Connor asked, already heading toward the half-finished stretch of fence.
Prim paused, resting the hammer on her thigh. “Anywhere you’re willing to stand and hold a board.”
“You should have called me.” Connor reached for the far end of a panel. “Let me know that you needed help.”
“I guess we’re just not used to having you close.” Max shot him a wink, his tone turning teasing. “But now that we’ve been reminded, fair warning.”
Connor laughed, shifting his grip on the panel as his dad nudged it into place. He glanced around. “Where’s Parker?”
“Your sister took him home to get a few things Callum and Brynn forgot to pack.” His mother’s lips lifted in a fond smile. “He’s a great kid. I’ll miss him, but I am eager for Callum and Brynn to get back.”
Max reached for another board. “What have you been up to since you deserted us?”
“I didn’t desert—”
Max and Prim laughed at the same time.
“Just kidding.” Max glanced at him. “Though we did stop by yesterday. Place was locked up tight.”
Prim shrugged. “We looked in the windows. Very nice.”
“Mac and I spent the day at Washington Island.”
“You and Mac, eh?” Prim’s hazel eyes twinkled.
“She lives next door.”
“Oh, in the place with the cute frog?” Prim asked.
Connor figured that was as good a description as any. “That’s right.”
“That’s…convenient,” Max said.
When Connor shot him a look, he only smiled.
The truth was, Connor did think it was convenient, maybe too convenient. This morning, he’d fought the urge to knock on Mac’s door to see if she was free to go kayaking, but her car had been gone, which had taken the decision out of his hands.
“How was the island?” Prim’s mouth curved as she shifted the hammer back into her grip. “It’s always seemed peaceful.”
“Better than I remembered.” As he muscled the panel into position, he found himself telling his parents about the day.
“Sounds like fun.” Max glanced at Prim. “We should go.”
“Name the day,” she said.
Once all the nails were finally in and the level showed green, Connor took a step back. “This fence isn’t going anywhere.”
“I like it.” Prim swiped a speck of sawdust off her forearm, then turned to Connor. “Thank you.”
“We might be done with this section, but there’s more fun to be had,” Max said.
They worked until the last board was anchored, shirts damp, arms streaked with dust. Connor kept pace with his parents, laughing at his dad’s jokes, trading quips with his mom and feeling connected.
As he watched his parents move together so easily after all these years, Connor felt something inside him shift. They were a team, one that worked together and still managed to make the work fun.
When the tools were stacked and the last panel stood firm, Connor let out a satisfied breath.
Sometimes it didn’t hurt to see how partnership looked when it was practiced, not promised.