Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
KANE
I stand on the dock, watching the sun bleed into the ocean. The salt air mixes with a bitter dread inside me. Timber and I have crossed lines I hadn’t expected to redraw in my life. Her laughter, her presence on quiet nights—she’s burrowed not just into my home but deep into my heart. I hadn’t meant to let anyone in that close again, yet here I am, facing a gaping void with her about to leave.
The closeness we share isn’t just physical. It’s in every shared silence, every look that lingers too long, every honest word spoken in the dark. These moments hint at possibilities my rational mind knows we can’t keep.
How has she become so important so fast? The thought of her absence is like imagining a part of me ripped away, leaving a raw, open wound.
I shuffle my feet, hands buried deep in my pockets as I try to sort out my thoughts. Can I really ask her to stay? To leave everything behind for a love that has no guarantees? The boldness of it makes my pulse quicken.
“What are you thinking about?” Eliza asks, appearing from nowhere but somehow finding her way next to me.
Caught off guard, I glance at my sister, noticing the heaviness in her eyes—a reflection of her own looming goodbye. Her husband is set to return to the oil rig, a cycle of departures and reunions that never seems to get easier. “Just thinking about how quickly things change, how fast time slips away,” I admit, kicking lightly at a loose board on the dock.
Eliza nods, understanding the fleeting nature of moments we wish could last forever. “I know,” she says. “It never gets easier … the goodbyes.”
Her voice cracks slightly, revealing the strain of repeated separations. It makes me think of Timber, about the agonizing countdown to her departure, and how every moment seems dipped in farewell.
“You could avoid one goodbye, you know,” Eliza continues, her gaze steady on mine. “Tell Timber how you feel. You don't have to let her go without knowing what could be. Tell her you love her.”
The idea hangs in the air between us, simple yet colossal. “What if love isn’t enough?” I ask.
Eliza steps closer, her presence comforting. “What if it is? Maybe it’ll turn into something wonderful. You'll never know unless you open up. Don't let fear decide the future for you. I’ve watched you over these past several weeks and she’s good for you. She’s good for all of us. ”
Her words strike a chord. Eliza has always seen through me, knowing when I’m holding back. As much as I try to be a realist, I can’t ignore the hope Eliza carries. Maybe I’m afraid of the same gamble she’s talking about. But if she, who knows the pain of repeated separations, can still believe in the possibility of something beautiful, maybe I can too.
“I'll think about it,” I say, the decision still daunting.
Eliza's expression is a mixture of encouragement and sympathy. “Come on,” she urges, breaking the heavy mood. “Everyone’s gathered for Matt’s goodbye lunch. Let's not keep them waiting. These moments—good or bad—are better shared.”
As we walk back toward the gathering, the notion of sharing—not just moments, but life itself—with Timber plays over in my mind. Eliza is right. I need to decide not out of fear, but out of the chance for something greater. I’ve always played it safe, keeping my emotions guarded, avoiding risks. But Timber has changed that. She makes me want to be different, to take a chance I’ve never dared to take before.
Maybe it's time to take that leap. Tonight, I’ll tell her what’s in my heart, and I’ll ask her to stay.
At May's Cafe, the laughter and chatter fill the air, bouncing off the old wooden walls and brightening the room. We're all gathered around a few pushed-together tables, making space for everyone. Dad is at the head, his booming voice recounting a hunting trip gone hilariously wrong last fall. My brothers, rowdy and relentless, tease each other over missed shots and forgotten gear.
I sit back for a moment, watching Timber as she interacts with my family. She's seated between Eliza and me, laughing at something my brother Finn said. Hailey is standing next to her, glued to Timber’s side, her small hand clutching Timber’s like she’s the only anchor in a swirling sea. There's a naturalness to her presence, a way she fits into the gaps we didn't even know existed.
“Remember that giant bass Rhys claimed was 'this big?’” Nash waves his arms wide, and the table erupts in laughter.
“Yeah, right, more like this big!” I chime in, holding my hands much closer together, drawing another round of chuckles.
Timber joins in the teasing, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, come on, guys. Us girls know that size matters, especially when it comes to … fish.”
Her comment sends us into another round of laughter, and even Dad chuckles, giving her a nod of approval. “Girl’s got wit,” he says, and something warm spreads in my chest. It’s pride mixed with a deeper, more tender emotion.
I drape my arm across the back of Timber’s chair, my fingers just barely brushing her shoulder. Watching her, I think of my mother, whose gentle spirit seems mirrored in Timber. Mom would have adored her, would have been overjoyed at the circle of family widening to embrace someone who seems to have always been meant to be part of us.
May moves around to refill half-empty mugs of coffee. When she gets to Timber, she says, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” Timber replies.
The evening winds down, and it's time to walk Matt down to the dock. He stands up, stretching and yawning, and the rest of us follow suit, gathering our things and saying our goodbyes. The air outside is cool, the sun now a fading glow on the horizon.
As we stroll toward the dock, I walk beside Matt, our footsteps echoing on the wooden planks. There's a bittersweet feeling in the air, a sense of closure and new beginnings. Matt’s heading back to his job on the oil rig, leaving Eliza and their life here behind for a while. I think about the possibility of having to do this with Timber soon, if she chooses to leave. The thought tightens my chest, but I push it away, focusing on the present moment.
“Gonna miss you, bro,” Matt says, clapping me on the back.
“Same here,” I reply, my voice thick with emotion. “Don’t worry about Eliza. We’ll look after her until you get back.”
Matt nods, gratitude and trust in his eyes. “Thanks, Kane. That means a lot.”
The dock is quiet, mostly empty except for a few locals who nod in greeting as they pass. We gather, waiting. A few moments later, the distant drone of the plane grows louder.
Eliza holds baby Cody a little tighter, her other hand clasped by Matt. Their goodbyes are filled with whispered vows and fleeting kisses, a poignant scene that makes me wonder how they do it without falling apart.
As the plane touches down smoothly on the water and taxis toward us, the pilot expertly maneuvers it to the dock. The door swings open, and as Matt readies himself to board, another figure steps out first. I freeze for a moment—Amanda.
A shock runs through me, freezing me in place. I blink, hoping my eyes are playing tricks, but there she is, unmistakably Amanda. My stomach knots and a cold sweat prickles at the back of my neck.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Rhys says.
“Who’s that?” Timber asks.
Eliza groans. “That’s Amanda.”
I look around, searching for Hailey, afraid of her reaction, and spot her beside Timber, holding her hand.
“Why is she here?” Timber whispers. Her hand tightens around mine.
“I don’t know,” I say. All I can think about is how this complicates everything. The hope I’d been nurturing all day now seems overshadowed by this unexpected challenge.
Amanda waves, her smile strained. Rhys nods, barely acknowledging her. Eliza forces a small, tight-lipped smile before turning her gaze away. The rest of my family ignores her presence. Beside me, Timber tenses, her grip on my hand growing firmer.
As Amanda draws closer, reality sinks in. Her arrival isn’t just a visit. It’s a disruption that threatens the delicate balance of the life I’m trying to build. A life that, I hope, includes Timber, not just for now, but forever.