Chapter 9
Savannah
“Do you need to go to the garage or back to the B maybe it’s simply his personality. Does he despise outsiders? Women? Or is it just me?
Todd’s steering the van with one hand, the other resting casually on his thigh.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Todd flashes me a grin that could melt ice. “Hmm? Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“About how handy you were with the Spirit . And how much trouble you might be.”
I bat my eyelashes at him. “Me? Trouble?” I snort and drop my act. “You have no idea.”
Todd snorts, too, but stays silent. I like that about him. He’s not the chatty type. Nor is he withdrawn or brooding like a certain someone I’m pretending not to think about, but Todd doesn’t fill the space with inane chatter.
As I turn my gaze back to the passing scenery, the tension in my chest eases. The unease in my stomach and the constant buzz in my head have softened since I arrived in Maine. I don’t think I’m cured of my mental disorder, but the PTSD isn’t a prominent feature in my life.
When I was bent over those engines—both the rental and the boat—I wasn’t watching my back, and I wasn’t second-guessing every sound or movement. I wasn’t stuck in the fears of my past but simply enjoying the moment.
I totally zoned out.
The realization is both comforting and terrifying. Sure, it’s a relief, but it also feels foreign. I’ve been living with this sharp-edged vigilance for months now. Letting it go, even for a moment, feels dangerous, like walking a tightrope without a safety net.
I clench my hand in my lap, and for a moment I’m back at my Miami workplace. The sharp crack of a gun and the nauseating thud of bodies hitting the floor. The incessant buzz in my mind is back, and my fear pushes through the cracks.
No, no, not going there.
I blink hard, focusing on the snow-covered trees. I’m not in Miami. I’m here in Northwick Cove, where there are no robbers, no shootings. Just... quiet.
Todd turns the van onto the main street where the B&B is situated.
“Here we are,” Todd says, pulling to a stop.
I unbuckle my seatbelt, glancing at him. “Thanks for the ride.”
“No,” he replies, his voice low and warm. “Thank you for fixing the old gal .”
I can’t help but roll my eyes. “You two talk about that boat like she’s a person.”
He grins. “Don’t you talk about cars like they’re human beings?”
Damn, he’s got me there. “Fair point.”
I reach for the door handle, but Todd leans in, pressing a kiss to my cheek before I can fully register what’s happening.
My breath hitches.
I stare at him, caught off guard, my cheek tingling where his lips touched. For a second, my mind goes blank, replaced by an image of his mouth—soft but firm—trailing lower and touching other places, like my mouth, my breasts, my?—
I snap back to reality and fumble with the door handle, my pulse racing. “I, uh, better go.”
I climb out of the van and close the door behind me. My heart hammers from merely a kiss. Damn him. Damn his easy smile and his warm brown eyes. And damn Colton, too, for taking up space in my head when I should be focusing on anything else.
Northwick’s Peace, my ass.
* * *
Colton
The quiet stretches its heavy blanket over the dock, broken only by the faint lapping of the water against the Sea Spirit’s hull. Normally, I don’t mind the silence. It’s part of the rhythm out here, a companion to the work. But now that Todd and Savannah are gone, it feels different, almost oppressive.
I can’t help but wonder what’s happening in that van. Is their ride silent? Awkward? Or is Todd doing what he does best, making her laugh, pulling her out of whatever guarded shell she’s built around herself? He’s good at that, better than I’ll ever be. He genuinely likes people, whereas I...
I sigh, shaking my head as I move to the nets and start putting them away.
Savannah, though. She’s harder to figure out. Reserved, but not shy. Sharp enough to make you think twice before crossing her, but not cruel. I don’t know if she’s simply tired, wary, or if that’s her default way of being.
She beautiful, though, and appealing. Hell, Todd’s already halfway to liking her. I can see it in the way his smile gets a little brighter when she’s around.
The nets slide into place with a muted thud. I get another. The task gives my hands something to do while my thoughts spiral. I secure the nets with a few practiced knots and let my gaze drift toward the horizon. If only my thoughts were this easy to handle.
I pull out my phone and fire off a quick text to Todd.
Colton
I’m walking home.
Three miles isn’t much, and I could use the time to clear my head. The roads are quiet this time of day, and the sun dips lower now, the sky streaked with pale gold and vibrant orange.
The Sea Spirit creaks, rocks, and settles into the dock like she knows she won’t be going anywhere tonight.
I check my phone. No response yet to the text I sent Todd. Not that I expect one. He’s probably too busy being charming, making sure Savannah’s taken care of.
The silence presses in again, heavier this time.
Damn it.
I tuck my phone into my pocket and climb onto the dock, my boots crunching against the weathered boards.
The road is lined with bare trees, their spindly branches clawing at the sky. The snow is packed underfoot, patches of dirt showing through in places where the sun hits hardest. It’s a route I know well, one I’ve taken hundreds of times, but tonight it feels... off.
I pass the Johnsons’ place, their farmhouse tucked into the bend of the road. The chimney’s smoking, and their old Husky raises his head as I walk by before settling back down on the porch. The mutt loves snow and only will go inside for food.
The quiet stretches on, unbroken except for the occasional snap of a twig or the faint rustle of the wind through the trees.
By the time I reach the house, the sky is starting to deepen into twilight. The building is sturdy and well-kept, the kind of house built to last against Maine winters. Functional. Nothing fancy.
To someone like Savannah, though? I don’t know what she’d see.
It’s not small, at least. But it’s plain. The paint’s holding up, but the garden—now just patches of snow and frozen dirt—won’t impress anyone. It was never meant to.
I kick the snow off my boots at the door and step inside. The warmth hits me instantly, but it doesn’t do much to shake the tension clinging to me.
After dropping my jacket on the hook, I head upstairs, the creak of the wooden steps echoing in the quiet. The bathroom is as plain as the rest of the house, but the water runs hot, and that’s what matters.
I strip off my shirt and step into the shower, letting the water scald my skin. The steam clouds the mirror, curling around me as I lean against the tiles.
They’re just two people. One’s my brother. The other’s a stranger passing through.
That should be the end of it.
But I can’t stop wondering what she sees when she looks at this town, this house. At us.
And I can’t stop wondering why I care.