Chapter 20
Ethan
That night away with Blake on a fake honeymoon was something else—it was as if the world had stopped just for us. But the next day, and the ones after that, found me back in the routine of leading the volunteer group in the morning, working in the afternoon planning charters for when the spill is finally cleaned, and longing for the day all this is done, when I won’t have to fit Blake into the spare moments in my life.
We’ve already had a long morning with the volunteer group at the wildlife rehabilitation center, and Bandit and I climb into my truck, heading for the marina. Blake couldn’t make it today, and it’s an understatement to say I missed her like crazy—the need to hold her while she’s sleeping, to wake up beside her, has gripped me.
I’m falling for her so hard. And it really feels like falling, like the best jump I’ve ever taken, the wind buffeting me from all directions, with no idea when or even if I’ll find the drop zone, all the carefully controlled foundations of my life being swept away by one person: Blake .
Driving through town with Bandit sitting beside me, my thoughts stay with her, a hot need that seems to always be there, no matter what else I’m doing. We pass some older Victorian-style houses painted in pastel hues, their porches adorned with hanging baskets overflowing with vibrant flowers, before reaching Main Street.
Winding my window down, the aroma of freshly baked bread drifts in, mixing with the salty tang of the ocean breeze. Locals have stopped at the Sweet Current Bakery and other cafes along Main Street for lunch, chatting with neighbors and sitting outside, enjoying the last week of summer. There are a handful of tourists trickling in, but most are still staying away.
The community center comes into view, and I spot Blake’s car parked out front. Curiosity tugs at me and I pull over, parking my truck across the street. Through the glass windows, she’s visible behind a small scuffed desk, her beautiful face a picture of concentration.
There are other volunteers, and signs offering free legal advice and referrals to services. A dozen or so people drift through the room, faces marked with the harsh realities of life. Some sit hunched over, clutching worn backpacks, blankets and sleeping bags rolled and tied on with string, their eyes dull.
An older man in a threadbare coat sits in the corner, gaunt face lined with signs of his battles, eyes darting around the room. A young woman with stringy hair and hollow cheeks shifts in her seat, her arms covered in faded bruises and marks, while beside her, a middle-aged man in an oversized jacket nervously fidgets with a worn leather wallet, his dull eyes distant, lost in some far-off memory.
Reverend Billy moves through the crowd, with his usual kind expression in place, offering words of comfort and advice. But it’s Blake who holds my attention.
She takes a sip of something out of a mug, eyes soft and attentive as she listens to the older man in front of her speak. She takes down details, and hands him a stack of pamphlets with a warm smile that just about makes my heart burst.
Glancing at Bandit, who’s watching me curiously. “She’s incredible, isn’t she, buddy?” I scratch behind his ears and Bandit gives a low huff.
I stay for a few minutes longer, watching her navigate the room with such grace. She moves from person to person, and there’s a genuine warmth in all of her interactions, a light that draws people in and makes them feel seen and heard. I’ve seen it so many times while we’re working on the oil spill.
Part of me is glad she agreed to give this thing between us a shot, but a larger part of me wants more than just taking things day by day . I want to be with her completely, to have a proper relationship where I can tell the world she’s mine. Where I can shout it from the fucking rooftops if I want to.
Every time I see her, every touch, every laugh, every moment we share—it’s clear: Blake isn’t just another fling. She’s someone I want to build something real with. I want to be there for her, support her, and let her know she doesn’t have to carry her burdens alone.
As I linger, Blake stops to talk to another volunteer, a tall, handsome guy with a chiseled jaw. He leans in close, saying something that makes her laugh, and a sharp pang twists in my gut.
Clenching my fists, trying to rein in the surge of possessiveness. I take a deep breath, reminding myself to trust her, to trust us. But damn, it’s hard when I see someone else making her smile like that.
Just the thought of her being with anyone else makes me sick, then angry. She’s the only one I want, and I want to be the only one for her. I need to show her that we can face everything together. She’s more than just a part of my life now: she’s becoming the very center of it.
“Come on, Bandit.” Reluctantly putting the truck back in gear. “We don’t want to look like stalkers.”
Spotting Ruby O’Connor in her gallery a little further down the road, I pull in, hit with inspiration. She started making jewelry a while back from the smooth beach glass she finds on the beach, and I want to pick up something for Blake.
I step into the gallery, where Ruby stands behind the counter, her silver streaked dark hair pulled back in a loose bun. The walls are adorned with her beautiful creations—paintings of coastal scenes, intricate jewelry, and delicate glass sculptures. The soft hum of a local radio station plays in the background.
“How lovely to see you.” Ruby gives me a warm look. “What brings you here today?”
“Hey, Mrs. O’Connor. I’m looking for something for someone special. Maybe a bracelet or a necklace.”
Ruby gets a look in her eyes like she knows exactly who I’m talking about, but she’s got enough tact that she doesn’t mention Blake by name. She moves to a glass display case and pulls out three or four pieces, all made by hand. A silver bracelet with a piece of green sea glass set in the center catches my eye. The sea glass glimmers softly, capturing the light just right.
Picking it up, looking it over, trying to picture it on Blake. “This one might be perfect.”
“I found this piece of sea glass after Hurricane Karen. It’s a rare color, and it could match a certain someone’s eyes.”
I pretend not to know what she’s talking about. “It’s beautiful. I’ll take it.”
Ruby wraps the bracelet in delicate tissue paper, places it in a box, and starts gift wrapping it, glancing up at me. “You know, I’m glad you’ve met someone special. You deserve it, and love just makes everything so much brighter.” She hands me the neatly wrapped package and I grin like a fool.
“Thanks. Have a great day.” With the bracelet in hand, I head back to the truck.
Later that day, after dropping Bandit at home, and as the sun starts to dip toward the horizon, I pull up to the Tidal Tavern for a Valiant Hearts meeting. There are plenty of parking spots on Main Street, probably the only perk of all the tourists being gone. Stepping inside, the Tavern is quiet, the usual hum of activity replaced by a subdued calm. It’s become the new normal, but the sight is still a little jarring.
Blake is behind the bar, her movements fluid as she serves the two guys perched on bar stools. There’s only one runner helping her tonight, darting between tables, and her uncle sits at a table near the kitchen, looking bored with not much to do.
I head straight for the bar, and Blake looks up as I approach, a smile tugging at her lips. “You’re here again? I’m going to start charging you rent.”
Leaning against the bar. “You’d make a fortune off me. I practically live here.” And it’s true. I’ve been at the Tavern every night, keeping an eye out for David, but I keep that part to myself.
Her gaze lingers on me, eyes deep and green like the middle of the harbor around mid-morning, when the angle of the sun turns the water into liquid emeralds, her lips moist from the sweep of her tongue. The air crackles between us, undeniable and electric. I pull out the small gift-wrapped box from my jacket pocket and slide it across the bar to her.
“What’s this?” She raises an eyebrow as she picks it up.
“Just a little something I thought you’d like.”
She opens the gift, revealing the delicate silver bracelet. “It’s beautiful,” she says, holding it up to the light to admire the sea glass. “Thank you.”
I nod, but inside, there’s a pang of disappointment. She likes it, but I want to do something that would really knock her socks off. Something that would show her how much I care about her, how much she means to me. “You’re welcome, princess. Anything for you.”
“You’re sweet. Really. I love it.”
Forcing a smile. I don’t want to be sweet. I want to blow her mind, show her I’m the kind of guy she wants to be in a relationship with. The only guy. “Are the others already here?”
“Yep. Just upstairs.” She pauses and stares at me, appraising. “I don’t get it. You’re so organized in every aspect of your life, but you come late to every Valiant Hearts meeting. It’s almost like you’re trying to get under Patrick’s skin.”
“I plead the fifth.”
We exchange grins and I take my beer and head up to the terrace, the evening air a little cooler now. The terrace offers a sweeping view over the marina, and the boys—Patrick, Liam, Jake, Antonio, and Mike—are in the corner already seated around a table, their beers in hand, Patrick with a planner and pen in front of him.
“Hey, guys,” I say, pulling up a chair and joining them.
A chorus of voices in reply, glasses raised.
“Hey,” Patrick’s blue eyes are fixed on me. “We just got started. The mayor wants a status update on the volunteer efforts by tonight. Liam’s already updated us, and Jake was just filling us in.”
“Yeah,” Jake says. “It’s been rough, but we’re making progress. My team is on the skimmers this week, and they’re working better than we expected. I reckon another few weeks, maybe a month, and the worst of the spill on the water should be sorted.”
Antonio nods. He’s still wearing his paramedic uniform. “My group is on beach cleanup, and the groups before us already cleared a good portion of the beaches around the lighthouse in the last few weeks. I’d say we’re about fifty percent of the way there.”
Patrick makes some notes in the planner. “That’s good news. Mike?”
“We’ve got all the barriers set up around the wetlands north of Harbor’s Edge,” Mike says. “We’ve put booms all around it so the oil on the water won’t get in there. So at least that’s one thing taken care of.” He takes a sip of his beer and Patrick jots more notes. Mike’s a big guy who works at his Uncle Jimmy’s garage. With his lumberjack beard and broad frame, he’s intimidating to anyone who doesn’t know him.
“Just make sure someone’s checking on that,” I say, looking at Patrick until he makes a note. “We don’t want the booms shifting and oil getting into the wetlands while we’re busy with other things.
“Got it” Patrick looks up at me. “What about your team?”
“We’ve been working at the wildlife rehabilitation center this week. The wildlife rescue is going well, but the center is filling up. We could do with some more cleaning supplies and cages for the groups on the beach.”
“Thanks.” Patrick leans forward, his expression serious. “Keep up the good work, everyone. This is a tough situation, but we’re making a difference. Danny would be proud.”
We chat for a while, sharing stories and updates about the cleanup efforts. We’ve all known each other since we were kids, and it’s always good to see the boys. One by one, they finish their beers and head out, leaving just Patrick and me on the terrace.
I can tell by the way he’s lingering that Patrick wants to talk. We’ve had an uneasy friendship since Danny died and Liam started working with me, but things have been better lately. After meeting Emmy, he’s chilled out a bit, although he’s always going to be a little uptight. It’s just the way he’s built. He takes a long sip of his beer, eyes fixed on the horizon. It’s almost fully dark now.
“I heard from Emmy that you and Blake are dating.”
I bristle at his words, feeling a surge of defensiveness. “So what if we are? It’s none of your business.”
Patrick turns to look at me, his expression hard. “It becomes my business when it’s about Blake. She’s Emmy’s best friend and we’ve both known her for a long time. You better treat her right, Ethan.”
A flash of anger. “I don’t need you to tell me how to treat Blake. Mind your own business.”
Patrick’s gaze doesn’t waver. “You can hardly blame me for being worried. You’ve been a player for a long time. You’ve got a reputation.”
Clenching my fists, trying to keep my cool. “Things are different this time. Blake’s different.”
Patrick studies me for a moment. “I hope so, for her sake. She’s been through enough. Don’t add to her troubles.”
I look away, the tension between us thick and unpleasant. “You don’t need to worry. I care about her. And I’m looking out for her.”
Patrick finishes his beer and stands up, clapping me on the shoulder. “Good. Just remember what I said.”
I watch him walk away, his words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. I shouldn’t be surprised. Patrick has always felt a deep sense of responsibility for everyone. And he’s right about one thing: Blake has been through enough after losing Danny. I’m not about to be another source of pain in her life.
Draining the last of my beer, I head downstairs, the sound of my boots echoing off the wooden floor as I approach the bar. Blake is busy wiping down the counter. She looks up and smiles as I lean on the bar. “Don’t forget, we’re meeting at the wilderness rehabilitation center tomorrow.”
She gives me a playful salute, her green eyes sparkling. “Yes, boss.”
The place is almost empty now, just a couple of stragglers finishing their drinks. She’ll probably close up early like she has been recently—there’s no point staying open late when there are no customers. I lean over the bar, unable to resist the pull between us, and kiss her. She doesn’t pull away, her lips soft and inviting against mine.
Then her phone rings, and she pulls back, grabs for it quickly, her expression changing when she sees the caller ID. “It’s David,” she says, her voice tense. “Can you stay behind the bar while I take this?”
I watch as she steps away, her shoulders hunched as she answers the call. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but the worry on her face is pretty obvious. After a few minutes, she comes back, looking shaken. Reaching out, hugging her, feeling a surge of protectiveness as my arms wrap around her. “What happened?”
She takes a deep breath, eyes glistening. “David sounded really bad. He’s definitely using again. He’s still asking me to give evidence against Sylvia, and he’s angry. He doesn’t understand why I can’t help.”
Anger flares up inside me, hot and fierce. “I don’t trust him. He’s unstable.”
She shakes her head, her expression torn. “He’s my foster brother. He’d never hurt me. You don’t understand everything he’s been through. He’s struggling.”
I want to argue, but hold back. “Come over to my place,” I say instead. “You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
She shakes her head again. “I need to spend some time with my mom.”
“Alright. But I don’t like this.”
She leans in to kiss me long and hard. “Thank you for caring. I’ll see you tomorrow. Go on. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m going to at least stay here until you close up in case he turns up.”
Her brow furrows. “Is that why you’ve been hanging out here every night?”
My eyes narrow, not sure how to answer without lying to her.
She gently pushes against my chest. “Ethan, I appreciate you being here, but I need to handle this myself. You promised to respect my boundaries, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Well consider this me setting a boundary. I don’t need you here playing bodyguard.” She leans in, her lips finding mine in a kiss that’s both tender and intense, lingering longer than usual. “I’ll be fine,” she says. “Just go.”
Reluctantly, I step back, heading out of the Tavern and walking to my truck, each step heavier than the last. Climbing in, I start the engine and drive down the street a little, parking out of sight in a spot with a clear view of the Tavern and her car. The minutes stretch, but I keep my eyes glued to the length of boardwalk in front of the bar, waiting.
Finally, her silhouette appears in the dim light, moving with purpose after she locks up. She heads to her car, her quiet footsteps echoing in the night, before she gets in, starts the engine, and drives away.
Satisfied that she’s safe, I finally head home, the image of her worried face after she spoke to David etched into my mind. She might think she’s safe. I’m not so sure.