Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Callum was tying off a line at the marina when Connor found him.
The late afternoon had thinned the crowd down to a few locals and a couple of tourists lingering over rented kayaks.
The water lay deceptively calm, the surface rippling just enough to catch the sun.
Callum crouched near the dock, hands sure and practiced as he hummed something under his breath, like he always did when he was half thinking about something else.
Connor leaned against a piling and watched for a moment before speaking.
“You busy?”
Callum glanced up. “When it’s you asking? Never.” He finished the knot, tested it once, then straightened. “What’s up?”
Connor hesitated. Not because he didn’t know what he wanted to say, but because saying the words out loud would make them real.
He looked out over the water instead. Boats moved slowly through the channel, unhurried, like they had all the time in the world.
“My sublease is up at the end of summer,” he said finally. “And I haven’t told Mac I’m even thinking about not renewing.”
Callum’s expression didn’t change. He just nodded once, waiting.
“I told myself I’d decide later,” Connor went on. “Figure it out when the time to decide is closer.” He exhaled. “But I keep thinking about it.”
“Seattle,” Callum said. Not a question.
“Yeah.”
Callum leaned back against the dock rail beside him. “Thinking about going back?”
Connor shrugged. “Thinking about the fact that it’s an option.” He paused. “Thinking about what it would mean if I did. Or didn’t.”
They stood there in companionable silence for a moment, the slap of water against wood filling the space.
“Why haven’t you said anything to Mac?” Callum asked.
Connor ran a hand through his hair. “Because I don’t want to put it on her. She’s already got enough decisions pressing in. I don’t want to be another thing she has to factor in.”
“That sounds like you,” Callum said. “You don’t like being the complication.”
Connor laughed once, dryly. “That’s not a compliment, is it?”
Callum smiled a little. “Depends on the context.”
Connor shifted his weight. “The thing is… I don’t even know yet what I want. And I don’t want to pretend I do just to sound decisive.” He glanced at Callum. “I also don’t want to disappear from the conversation. But that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
Callum nodded slowly. “That’s new.”
Connor winced. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only because I’ve known you your whole life,” Callum said. “You tend to either be all in or all the way back. Middle ground makes you itchy.”
Connor huffed a breath. “Yeah. Well. I’m itchy.”
Callum let his gaze drift toward the water, thoughtful. “You don’t have to decide anything today.”
“I know.”
“But you do have to stay present,” Callum said. “You can’t tell her you want to be here with her while you’re packing up your stuff right next door.”
Connor swallowed. The words hit deeper than he’d wanted them to.
He’d told her he didn’t want to be updated about major decisions after the fact.
And here he was, building an exit strategy she didn’t even know existed.
“I’m trying,” he said quietly. “This feels different.”
“How?”
Connor didn’t answer right away. He thought of the way Mac stood still when she spoke, like she wasn’t bracing for impact. Of the way she chose her silences carefully now, not to avoid, but to make space.
“I don’t want to pull away,” he said finally. “But I don’t want to crowd her either.”
Callum nodded. “That sounds about right.”
Connor glanced at him. “You’re not going to tell me what to do?”
Callum laughed. “God no. I learned a long time ago that you don’t listen when I do that.”
Connor smiled despite himself.
“I just don’t want to mess this up,” he admitted.
Callum’s tone softened. “You don’t mess things up by wanting. You mess them up by leaving without saying why. Or by deciding you’re gone before she even knows you’re thinking about it.”
Connor absorbed that, the truth of it settling in his chest—not as accusation, not as warning. Just something to hold.
He nodded once. “Yeah.”
They stood there for a moment longer, the marina carrying on around them. A gull cried overhead. A rope creaked softly in the breeze.
“Whatever you decide,” Callum said finally, “make sure it’s something you can say out loud. To the right person.”
Connor looked out at the water again, the horizon steady and wide.
“I will,” he said.
He just hadn’t decided whether he was brave enough to choose with Mac watching.
Mac found him where she half expected to.
Connor was sitting on the low stone wall near the marina, elbows braced on his knees, gaze fixed on the water like it might eventually give him an answer. The evening had softened around the edges, boats creaking gently in their slips, the air carrying the scents of lake water and sun-warmed wood.
He didn’t look surprised when she approached.
That hurt a little.
And helped.
She stopped a few feet away.
“Hey.”
He didn’t look guarded or relieved. Just present. “Hey.”
She didn’t sit yet.
“I talked to Edith earlier,” she said. “About your sublease.”
His jaw shifted slightly. “Yeah?”
“She mentioned you might go back to Seattle.”
He held her gaze, not looking away. “I’ve been thinking about it.”
“As a plan?” she asked.
“As a possibility.” A beat. “Not a decision.”
She let that settle. Felt the sting without letting it sharpen.
“You didn’t tell me,” she said quietly.
His shoulders tightened, just enough. “You already had enough on your plate.”
She nodded once. “That sounds familiar.”
That seemed to surprise him. He studied her face, then let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Yeah.”
“I told myself I was protecting what we had,” she said. “When I decided about the job on my own.”
“I know.”
“And you thought you were protecting me by not mentioning you’re considering going back to Seattle,” she said.
He didn’t argue.
“I guess I started pulling back, too,” he admitted.
“I didn’t come here to ask you to stay,” she said. “Or to pin down your plans.”
That earned her his full attention.
“I came because I realized something,” she said. “What I’ve been calling independence is really just me deciding everything alone.”
He listened. Didn’t fill the silence. Didn’t soften it for her.
“When Paula told me about the analyst job, I told myself I kept it from you to avoid feeling pressured. But really, I didn’t trust myself to let you see me before I had it all figured out.”
His hands flexed slightly between his knees.
“I didn’t want to be the reason you stayed or left,” he said. “I didn’t want that decision sitting on me.”
“And I didn’t want to need you,” she said. “Not without proving I deserved you first.”
That landed harder.
“You don’t have to prove anything with me,” he said.
“I’m starting to understand that,” she said. “But you need to understand something, too.”
He waited.
“Because you didn’t tell me about Seattle… It feels like you’ve stepped back. Like you’re preparing your exit.”
He didn’t flinch.
“I think I was,” he admitted. “A little.”
The words hung there.
“I was hurt that you left me out of your decision,” he went on. “And then I did the same thing.”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
A gull cried overhead. A rope creaked in the breeze.
He looked out over the water, then back at her. “I don’t want to disappear again. I’ve done that before. I thought giving you space was being supportive.”
“And I thought handling everything myself meant being strong.”
They stood there, the symmetry of it impossible to miss.
“So what do we do?” he asked.
Mac let the question settle between them.
For a long time she’d believed strength meant handling everything alone.
Standing here now, the idea felt smaller than it once had.
She stepped closer now. Not tentative. Not dramatic.
“We stop trying to protect each other from the hard parts,” she said. “We let the other person in while everything’s still messy.”
His mouth curved slightly at that. “That sounds uncomfortable.”
“It probably will be.”
He studied her, measuring the shift. “Are you asking me to stay?”
The question was steady. Not loaded.
“I’m asking you not to decide alone,” she said. “And I won’t do that again to you.”
Something in his expression eased. Not solved. Not swept away.
Aligned.
“I don’t know what returning to Seattle would look like,” he said. “And I don’t know what your new job is going to demand. I just know I don’t want fear making the decision.”
“Me neither.”
She reached for his hand this time. Not cautious. Not testing.
Present.
He turned his hand, lacing their fingers together.
“I’m not asking you to decide for me in the future,” she said. “But I do want you beside me while I figure things out.”
“And I want to be beside you,” he said. “Not standing off to the side.”
She smiled. “Then let’s try it.”
He nodded once. “Okay.”
The wind moved across the marina, stirring the ropes and chimes.
They stood there together, hands still linked.