Chapter 19
Savannah
I can’t believe they talked me into this.
Four in the goddamn morning.
It’s bad enough that Todd convinced me to crawl out of the warm cocoon of our bed before dawn, but the real betrayal? The man brewed coffee—rich, dark, life-saving coffee—only to pour it into a thermos and tell me I had to earn my java.
If I didn’t want him so much, I’d kill him.
Now, standing on the deck of the Sea Spirit , the wooden planks shifting beneath my feet as we ease away from the dock, I wonder if I made a mistake. The ocean is vast, endless, black in the pre-dawn hush. Even at the docks, I can feel the gentle roll beneath me. Like I needed a reminder that the ground is no longer solid.
My stomach clenches. I really, really hope I don’t get seasick. That would suck major balls.
Colton stands at the helm, his hands sure and steady on the wheel. The water around us is ink, reflecting only the pinprick glow of stars overhead. He’s magnificent in his confident stance and wide shoulders.
I have no idea how he navigates in the dark, but he seems to know exactly where we’re going, reading the sea like it speaks to him in a language I don’t understand.
A shift in the wind carries a delicious aroma to my nose, warm and rich. My brain short-circuits. “Finally,” I groan when Todd hands me a cup of coffee. I lift it to my lips and almost scald my tongue, but I don’t care. It’s worth it.
Todd chuckles, the smug bastard, and before I can retaliate and hit him, he moves away to bring Colton his share.
I wrap both hands around the cup, absorbing the heat as I focus on the open water. My breath plumes in the cold, and I pull Todd’s hoodie tighter around me. The air out here is sharper than on land, laced with brine and the faintest whisper of fish and seaweed. If not for the cold, it’s comforting, in a way.
The waves slap gently against the hull. Almost hypnotic, the rhythmic rise and fall lulls me into a peaceful state.
A gust of wind rushes over the deck, pushing away the last remnants of sleep, and I shiver, although not only from the cold, but from something deeper.
There is something primal about the ocean, and I’m out here . In the middle of nowhere. The water stretches beyond what I can see, vast and unknowable, and the sky above is endless. Stars blink down at me, their light barely touching the horizon where the first sliver of dawn begins to glow, a bruised ribbon of indigo and violet stretching across the water.
The world feels impossibly big, and I am a small speck caught between sea and sky. It should frighten me, and on some level it does, but it also feels rig ht to me. Like I belong here.
The Sea Spirit cuts through the waves with almost a purr, like she recognizes the hands of these men who have spent their lives on the water. I grip the metal railing, thankful for my gloves and the residue of heat from the coffee mug, and watch as the darkness softens, the night slowly giving way to dawn.
The water shifts in color, deep blue rippling into silvery streaks where the light begins to touch it. Something moves beneath the surface—a dark shape that disappears before I can make it out. My pulse jumps.
Dolphins? A shark?
Before I can ask, a spray of mist erupts from the surface not too far from the boat. A second later, the long, curved back of a whale breaks through the water.
My breath catches.
“Whoa.” The reverent word escapes me, almost lost in the sea air.
Colton glances at me over his shoulder, a knowing glint in his eye. “First time seeing one?”
I nod, still transfixed as the massive creature rolls lazily through the waves, disappearing again into the depths. “It’s… unreal.”
Todd chuckles, standing beside me with his own coffee. “Better than Miami, huh?”
I don’t answer right away. Miami is bright and loud, chaotic and hot—a city that never stops moving. Palm trees, white sand beaches, neon signs. It has its own beauty, its own rhythm.
But this?
This is something else entirely.
“I don’t know.” I take another sip of coffee. “I think Florida might be jealous.”
Todd grins and bumps his shoulder against mine. “We’ll make a Mainer out of you yet, starling.”
I don’t argue.
For the first time, I think he might be right.
* * *
Colton
I don’t like cities.
They are too busy, too bright, and there are too many people in too damn small a space.
The noise presses in from all sides. Unnatural sounds like the constant hum of traffic, sharp honks, and the chatter of strangers who walk too fast and who never make eye contact. The air smells like exhaust and stale coffee, nothing like the crisp salt air of Northwick Cove.
I shift my stance, leaning against our van while Todd helps Savannah unload our fresh catch at the back of the market. She’s talking to the vendor, all easy smiles, waving hands, and relaxed body language.
An unwelcome thought slips into my mind. She belongs here.
She might be happier in a place like this.
My chest tightens.
I tell myself I’m imagining it. That she isn’t looking at the tall buildings like they’re calling her home. That she doesn’t miss Miami’s heat and chaos. That she doesn’t need it but can be perfectly happy in a small town, in a modest house with two rugged men.
Doubt digs its claws in, and I shift uncomfortably.
I try not to watch her, but my gaze keeps dragging back. I catch myself looking for signs—any sign—that she’s already slipping away. That two rough-around-the-edges fishermen aren’t enough to hold her here.
Like I should have watched Annalise.
The thought of her leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and makes my stomach twist.
But Savannah isn’t Annalise.
Savannah fits with us. She fits in our bed, in our home, in the quiet rhythm of our mornings, in the way she steals our hoodies and fixes shit we didn’t even realize needed fixing. She fits so well it scares me.
Because I’ve been here before.
Not here in Bangor, exactly, but standing on the edge of something. And I’ve watched a woman I love drift away like she was never mine to begin with.
I lived here once!
When I married Annalise, I packed up everything, left Northwick Cove, and moved to this city because she wanted more. Better. Bigger.
Northwick Cove wasn’t good enough.
The Sea Spirit wasn’t good enough.
So, after we married, we moved to Bangor, I took on two jobs to pay rent for a house we couldn’t afford.
I wasn’t enough.
She found someone with more money, more connections, more everything , and left me without looking back.
And now, here I am again, standing on another city sidewalk, wondering if history is about to repeat itself.
I clench my jaw and push off the truck, forcing my hands into my pockets. I hate the way my mind circles back to her. To the mistakes I made. To the way I let love turn me into a goddamn fool.
Savannah turns toward me, her cheeks pink from the cold, her eyes bright with something I can’t quite name. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I must clear my throat and repeat, “Yeah,” and the lie sits heavy in my stomach and adds to my nausea.
Todd strolls up, slaps a hand on my shoulder. “We’re done here. You ready?”
I nod.
Savannah slides into the van, and I follow her.
As soon as our bodies touch, the tension that’s been coiling in my gut starts to ease somewhat.
Todd pulls out onto the street, navigating through the mess of cars and pedestrians.
I try to relax, but my mind is still stuck in the past. I’m afraid that maybe I’ll never be enough to make someone stay.
But then Savannah leans against my side, stealing some of my warmth, her fingers resting on my knee as she takes in the passing buildings.
And for the first time since we got here, I wonder if she’s looking at them not with longing, but relief.
“Do you like Bangor?” My voice still doesn’t sound like my own.
“Nah. Not really.” She drops her head on my shoulder and squeezes the flesh above my knee. “It’s like a preteen, too small to be a real city and too big to be a village. I found I prefer small-town living.”
My next inhalation comes easier, and I don’t grumble when Todd switches on the radio like I normally do. I’m simply content sitting with the two people I love and knowing we’re going home.