Chapter 26 A Future Untold
Desi shot up through the surface of the water, ripped out her regulator, and tore off her mask.
The world burst around her in blinding light and salt.
Her breath came as fast and hard as the pounding of her heart.
The sea slapped her face, stinging her eyes with brine.
Nothing but the rolling blue of the Caribbean surrounded her—vast, endless, familiar.
She spun in the water, droplets flinging off her lashes. Sunlight glinted so fiercely off the waves, she had to squint, to focus—to believe. There it was. The Sea Starr, bobbed not twenty yards away, white hull gleaming beneath the sun like something out of memory.
“No…” The word tore from her throat, raw and trembling. “Noooo!”
She was back.
Then why did her heart scream as though it had been ripped in two?
Why did the warmth of the sea feel cold as death against her skin?
Shock buzzed through her like static, numbing her fingers, making her chest ache.
She stared into the dark blue below—the place she’d come from—half expecting Caleb’s hand to break the surface, to pull her home again.
And fully wanting him to do just that. The Ring!
She’d dropped it. And just like before, it had torn her through time and space and spit her back into the future.
But why now?
The wind whispered across the water, carrying the faint hum of an engine, the shriek of a gull. Camila’s voice echoed. “Desi! Over here!”
Desi’s limbs moved on instinct. Against every screaming urge to dive again—to claw her way back through the centuries—she forced herself toward the boat. Back to the surface world. Back to her life, her business, her sister. Back to everything she thought she’d wanted.
Then why did it feel like her soul was still drifting somewhere in 1718?
Camila leaned over the railing and stretched out a hand. “Why’d you come back so soon?”
Taking it, Desi landed on the deck with a jarring thud and sat to remove her fins. “Soon?”
“Yeah. You just dove in not ten minutes ago.”
Desi froze. The voice was not Ethan’s. A man lounged in the wheelhouse, sunlight flashing across a silver peace sign hanging from his neck.
Shoulder-length brown hair hung in sunbaked waves to a tanned, tattooed body, his arms a mural of ink and motion.
He grinned, a diamond stud winking from his ear.
Desi blinked hard. “And just who are you?”
His brows shot up.
“Very funny, Des,” Camila said, hoisting Desi’s tank with a smirk.
“I mean it,” Desi snapped. “Where’s Ethan?”
Worry feathered her first mate’s brow. “Ethan?”
“Yes, Ethan Turner, you know, our captain.”
“You feeling okay?” Camila took a step toward her, genuine concern appearing in her eyes. “Something happen down there?” She glanced at the glittering sea. “You weren’t down long enough to bump your head.”
Her voice sounded far away, distorted, as if spoken underwater. Desi’s knees buckled, and she sank to the bench, her pulse roaring in her ears.
The strange man approached, his flip-flops slapping softly on the deck. “Get her some water, Cami,” he said, crouching beside her.
Desi flinched and scooted away. “Who are you?”
Camila pressed a bottle into her shaking hands. “That’s Chad, Desi. You know that.”
Chad gave her a slow, easy smile.
Her throat closed. The world tilted. No…no, no, this isn’t right. She raised her hands to her face. And froze. A flash of red shimmered against her palms.
Sunlight caught it. Not rust. Not coral.
Blood… Alden’s blood.
Desi knew something was wrong—terribly wrong—before she reached the door of Ocean’s Echo.
The moment she stepped off the dock, dread twisted through her chest like seaweed tightening around an ankle. The familiar tang of salt and oil in the air should’ve comforted her, but it felt off, like she’d returned to a dream not her own.
The sign above the shop confirmed it. Instead of the carved mahogany one she’d commissioned, a crest of curling waves and the words Ocean’s Echo in gilded paint, there hung a board with the name scrawled in black marker, the wood warped and crooked.
A sick pulse thudded at her temples.
Then Chad—whoever he was—had refused to help her and Camila secure the boat, muttering something about a girlfriend waiting for him before leaping onto the dock and vanishing into the sunbaked crowd.
When Desi had asked Camila about him, her friend had only shrugged.
“He’s not the most reliable, but he’s cute and a good captain.”
Desi swallowed the ache rising in her throat. Ethan would never have left her to clean the deck alone.
Ethan would have—
Ethan doesn’t exist anymore.
The thought slapped her. Something she’d done—some decision, some moment in the past—had erased him. Or perhaps rewritten his path entirely. The realization made her stomach pitch.
Inside the shop, the air smelled of mildew, salt, and neglect. A teenage girl sat behind the counter, her hair dyed neon orange, her lips and eyes rimmed in black like a Halloween caricature. She didn’t look up from her phone.
Desi’s gaze swept the room. Sand coated the once-polished wooden floors, crunching beneath her sandals.
Torn maps curled on the walls. A glass display case—cracked diagonally—held a chaotic jumble of tangled cords, cracked dive masks, and rusted regulators.
The hum of the ceiling fan wobbled overhead like a lazy insect.
Her pulse beat in her throat. “Camila… where’s Silvia?”
Tossing her own gear into a heap in the corner, Camila looked at her as though Desi had grown gills. “Silvia Spike? That old homeless lady who used to sleep down by the storage warehouse?”
Fear punched through Desi’s chest. “Yes.”
Camila frowned. “Des, she died last year, remember?”
The room spun. Desi gripped the counter to keep from collapsing. “How?”
Camila shrugged, bored. “Who knows? Hunger, maybe. Sickness. She was homeless. Old.”
The words hit like stones. Ethan was the one who’d first noticed Silvia. His church had brought her food and blankets.
Without him… no one had cared.
Desi’s vision blurred. The shop seemed to ripple like heat over asphalt. Ten minutes underwater, and somehow a lifetime had shifted.
She drew a deep breath. So much had changed.
And yet, she’d only been in the water ten minutes. How was that possible?
She stumbled behind the counter and moved the mouse. The computer screen flickered awake, humming softly.
The teenager finally glanced up, chewing her gum.
Camila jingled her keys. “I’m getting a smoothie. Want one?”
“I’ll go!” the girl piped, already grabbing her jacket.
The bell above the door gave a hollow ring as they left, neither sparing Desi a glance as they chattered down the boardwalk.
Silence pressed in. Only the soft crash of waves against the pylons and the faint whine of the fan filled the space.
Desi stared at the computer screen. Rows of numbers and charts swam before her eyes. No dives scheduled today. None tomorrow, and few all month. The profit margins were bleeding red.
Her throat thickened. It’s dying… her shop was dying.
By the time Camila and the Pumpkin returned, Desi sat slumped on a stool, staring blankly at the room that had once been her pride and joy.
Camila slurped her smoothie. “You okay? See the Kraken while we were gone?”
The Pumpkin snorted. “Can I leave early?”
Desi blinked, unable to fathom how this girl—this careless stranger—fit into her world. “Yes. Go.”
The girl didn’t wait for a second invitation.
Desi turned to Camila. “Do you know how bad things are? We’re sinking. The numbers, Camila, we’ll be under in months!”
Camila shrugged. “Not my department. Maybe more ads online? My friend’s majoring in marketing, I can ask—”
“Never mind.”
Camila leaned against the counter, twisting her straw. “Maybe Chad’s helping the problem along. He’s always whining about money. I’ve seen him by the register a few times when he shouldn’t be.”
A chill crept through Desi. “You think he’s stealing from me?”
Camila raised her brows. “Didn’t say that. But… maybe keep an eye out.”
Desi rubbed her temples, her thoughts a tangle of loss and disbelief. Lazy. Thieving. And not Ethan.
She whispered it before she could stop herself. “I miss you, Ethan.”
Camila’s tone softened. “Ethan again? You sure you’re all right, Des? Did you make it down to the wreck? What did you see down there?”
Desi’s heart lurched. What did she see? Caleb’s face. The storm. The flash of the Ring.
She lifted her hand and stared at it.
“The Ring,” she murmured.
“What ring?” Camila asked, edging back slightly.
“Solomon’s Ring, I think,” Desi said faintly, more to herself than to Camila.
Camila sighed, took another sip of her smoothie, and set it down. “Okay, weird day. You need anything before I head out?”
“Just one thing.” Every nerve within Desi tightened at the next question. “Tell me my sister is still alive.”
Camila’s forehead wrinkled. “Of course. As far as I know. Didn’t you just see her?”
A wave of relief rushed over her. At least that hadn’t changed. “Go on home. See you tomorrow.”
Within seconds, the shop door closed again, leaving Desi alone.
The silence roared. She stood for a long moment, staring at the cracked glass counter, the drifting dust motes, listening to the faint hum of the sea outside.
Then she turned toward the narrow staircase leading up to her apartment.
Each step creaked underfoot, the sound echoing like memories that no longer belonged to her.
She hoped—prayed—that home, at least, hadn’t changed too.
It had.