Chapter 6 #3
I walked toward the water, weaving through the crowd, trying to let the moment settle into me. Trying to be present. To notice the beauty instead of the noise. To let Charleston work whatever magic it was supposed to work on people who came here looking for something they couldn't name.
But too many things weighed me down.
My mother's vacant smile, polite and distant, a stranger wearing her face.
The ranch I couldn't visit, sitting empty in the valley while strangers kept it alive.
The coyotes I'd killed because it was the only thing I knew how to do anymore, the only way I could protect something I'd abandoned.
The card in my pocket with an address I didn't understand and an offer I hadn't agreed to but somehow couldn't refuse.
I found a spot near the rail with a clear view of the harbor and stopped.
The sun was almost gone now, just a sliver of gold sinking below the horizon like it was being pulled under by something patient and inevitable.
The water reflected the sky in shades of fire and shadow, rippling gently as boats cut through it, their wakes spreading in V-shaped patterns that disappeared almost as soon as they formed.
I stood there, hands braced on the cool metal railing, and watched it disappear.
Ignored the world around me. Ignored the laughter and the music and the life happening in every direction. The children squealing. The couples taking selfies. The street musician playing guitar behind me, his case open for tips, voice rough and honest singing about something he'd lost.
Just stood there, alone in the crowd, and let the darkness come.
After a while, a boat appeared in my peripheral vision—large, lit up with strings of lights that twinkled like something out of a movie, moving slowly toward the pier.
A dinner cruise, probably. Or a booze cruise.
The kind of thing tourists did because it sounded romantic and Charleston knew how to sell romance better than most cities, packaging it up with a sunset and calling it memories.
I watched it approach without really seeing it. Just another piece of scenery sliding past. Another thing that had nothing to do with me.
Music drifted from the deck, something upbeat and forgettable.
People danced, laughing, waving to strangers on shore like they were all part of the same celebration, the same beautiful lie that everything was fine and would stay fine forever.
Someone cheered. Someone else raised a glass, champagne catching the last light like liquid gold.
The boat docked smoothly, crew members securing lines with practiced efficiency. Passengers began to disembark, still buzzing with whatever energy the evening had given them, faces flushed with alcohol and happiness and the temporary belief that life could always feel this good.
I was about to turn away, ready to find a hotel and figure out my next move, when I noticed three women stepping off together.
They were getting attention. A lot of it. Heads turning all along the waterfront. People pausing mid-conversation to stare. Even the street musician missed a chord, his fingers stumbling as they passed.
I could guess why.
They were stunning. All three of them. The kind of women who didn't have to try—they just existed and the world rearranged itself accordingly, making space for them whether it wanted to or not, everything else fading slightly in comparison.
Not that I was on the hunt. I wasn't. Hadn't been in years. Didn't have the energy or the interest or the belief that I had anything worth offering anyone anymore.
I turned back toward the harbor, letting the moment pass, my mind drifting back to the weight in my chest that wouldn't lift no matter how beautiful the sunset or how many miles I put between myself and everything I'd failed to protect.
Behind me, the click-clack of heels on pavement. Sharp and distinct even through the crowd noise, getting closer.
For some reason—instinct, maybe, or the same thing that made me check six in hostile territory—I turned.
And locked eyes with one of the women.
The world stopped.
Not metaphorically. Not poetically. Not in the way songs and movies tried to capture something that couldn't be captured with words or images or anything that made sense.
It just … stopped.
Everything. The noise. The movement. The breath in my lungs. The blood in my veins. Time itself.
Copper hair catching light from a nearby lantern, longer than I remembered but unmistakable, falling in waves over her shoulders.
Curves that had filled out since the summers I'd memorized, the years adding softness and woman where there'd been girl.
Blue eyes wide with the same shock that was currently short-circuiting every thought in my brain, every defense I'd built, every reason I'd had for staying away.
My God.
It couldn't be.
Not here. Not now. Not after all these years of running from everything that reminded me of who I used to be.
But it was.
"Sophie?" I blurted, the name ripping out of me before I could think, before I could process, before I could do anything except stand there and stare at a ghost that wasn't a ghost at all.