Chapter 27
Blake
A few days later, I’m still worried sick about David, but he’s done his usual trick of disappearing, and there’s not much I can do other than to get on with things and hope he calls or shows up again soon.
But no matter how hard I try, I can’t rid my mind of the image of him so strung out and lost. It drags up a storm of memories from my childhood, like old scars ripped open, ragged and painful. I think about my father, his glassy eyes and trembling hands, the nights I’d find him passed out, drug paraphernalia scattered around him.
The fear I felt, the uncertainty, never knowing if he’d be there the next day or if he’d disappear on another bender. And then when they took me from him, the string of foster homes that followed, where kids like me were left to navigate the shitty remnants the world offered us.
Seeing David like this again, falling into the same dark pit, brings it all rushing back. The sense of helplessness, the weight of other people’s choices crushing down on me. It’s like reliving it all over again, and the pain is just as raw.
But life doesn’t stop for anyone or anything, not for pain or grief or worry. Not for memories I’d rather forget. That’s another thing I learned early on: when life gives you lemons, you just have to keep showing up anyway.
So here I am, helping Ethan and the other volunteers on the beach. It’s just after noon, and the sun hangs high, casting a harsh glare over the yellow of the sand. Sweat trickles down my back, my shirt clinging uncomfortably to my skin, but the hard physical work actually feels pretty good, a way to take my mind off things.
After a couple more hours, a cool breeze finally sweeps in over Little Egg Harbor, offering a brief but welcome respite. Ethan wipes his brow with the back of his hand as he bags the last of the oil-streaked sand below the lighthouse.
Around us, the volunteers are all drenched in sweat, their faces flushed with effort. But they’re all grinning, even Carlos who hoists a heavy bag over his shoulder, muscles straining as he hauls it toward the collection point. Tom leans against a shovel, his shirt soaked through, panting as he catches his breath.
“Great job, everyone!” Ethan calls out, his voice full of pride and relief. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the beach is done!”
The team responds with cheers, laughter, and high-fives. I can see the exhaustion in their eyes, but it’s overshadowed by a sense of accomplishment.
Carlos returns empty handed, his shirt plastered to his back, and slaps Ethan on the shoulder. “We did it, man! Feels good to see this place looking clean again.”
I stand back for a moment, taking it all in. The cleanup has been grueling, but today feels like a real breakthrough. It’s hard to believe how far we’ve come, that this beach is finally clean.
Ethan catches my eye, his face streaked with dirt and sweat. His navy blue T-shirt clings to the broad of his chest, his cargo shorts sitting snug on his narrow hips, and he’s never looked more gorgeous.
“Hey, think we’ve earned a drink or two?”
I hold his gaze, drinking in the sight of him. The two of us have been riding high ever since the event at the Tidal Tavern, and it’s like we’re invincible when we’re together. “Only if you promise not to make a mess of my bar again.”
“Hey, that was one time!” He feigns indignation, wiping his hands on a rag. “And for the record, I thought the beer shower was quite refreshing.”
The team gathers around, and we share a moment of collective pride. There’s still a little more oil to clean on other beaches, but most of the work is done, and getting Lighthouse Beach back to its beautiful self feels like a major victory.
Ethan puts one arm around Tom and the other around Carlos, a grin splitting the angular planes of his face. There’s coarse stubble on his jaw, but his mouth is so kissable.
“Here’s to saving the world, one tar-ball at a time. Well done, team! We’re heading to the Tavern, and the first round is on me.”
We break into applause and when it dies down, I share out the last of the coffee while Tom passes out pastries. I take a bite of a croissant, savoring the buttery goodness. “I have to admit, Tom, your pastries might just be the real MVPs of this operation.”
“Well, they do say an army marches on its stomach.”
Ethan walks over to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. His touch is warm and familiar, but butterflies take flight in my chest, and I lean into him, feeling the solid strength of his body against mine.
He leans in, too, his lips brushing my ear. “You know, I think we make a pretty great team, princess, don’t you?”
I tilt my head to look at him, seeing the depth in the gunmetal gray of his eyes. My voice is soft, only for him: “Yeah, we do.”
We pack up and start walking back toward the parking lot, Bandit trotting happily beside us. Glancing around at the other volunteers, feeling a deep sense of camaraderie. Joy catches my eye and grins.
Ethan drops Bandit at home and we head back to the Tavern to meet everyone, where he buys a round for all the volunteers. With the whole team here, the place is buzzing with laughter and chatter.
Serving out the drinks, it seems like some things in my life are finally falling into place. There’s a sense of accomplishment in the air, together with the rock-solid bond between me and Ethan, and for a moment, I allow myself to bask in it.
But then my phone pings, and in those moments before I check to see who it is, the twin shadows of Mama Charlotte’s absence and my worry about David creep in like unwelcome guests. Unease settles over me.
Once all the drinks are poured, I excuse myself and pull out my phone, only to see a message from David: How could you do this to me?
A sharp ache spreads through my chest, and I swallow hard, my throat suddenly sore, scraped dry, like a piece of sandpaper is wedged there. I glance up—Ethan is across the room, his eyes filled with concern as he watches me. A smile forced in place, not wanting to ruin the mood or worry him more than he already is.
Heading back to the others, where their laughter echoes off the walls, making the sound louder and brighter, I catch the end of Carlos’ story. “You should have seen Tom,” he says. “The way he handled that pelican like a pro.”
“Except for the fact that the damned bird escaped five times, and I had to see a doctor about the wounds on my hands!” Tom holds up his still healing hands.
“Battle scars,” Carlos replies, clapping Tom on the back. “Wear them proudly.”
Ethan stands up, holding up his glass. “Alright, everyone, listen up!” The chatter quiets down, all eyes turning to him. “I just want to say how proud I am of all of us. We’ve made incredible progress, and I couldn’t ask for a better team. Here’s to cleaning up the rest of this mess and bringing our beautiful town back to its former glory!”
“Cheers!” We all raise our glasses, the clinking sound filling the room.
Someone cranks up the music, and before long, lively beats have people swaying and dancing. Tom grabs Lucy’s hand, twirling her around the room, while Carlos starts an impromptu dance-off with Joy and a couple of her friends, each move more ridiculous and entertaining than the last.
I glance over at Ethan, who’s watching the scene with a relaxed expression. “Care to dance, Mr. Boss Man?” I tease, nudging him playfully.
“I’ve told you before, I have two left feet.”
“Come on, I’ll make it worth your while later.”
He drains his glass and sets it down with a serious expression. “How can I say no to that?” Taking my hand, he leads me to the dance floor. The warmth of his touch sends a thrill through me, and we start moving to the beat, even though Ethan still looks way out of his comfort zone.
“Look at you, who’d have thought you’d turn into one of those guys who dances when his girlfriend asks?”
“Is this for you ? I thought we were dancing because you wanted the others to see my new smooth moves.” He leans in, kissing the side of my cheek before his mouth stops beside my ear. A whisper: “I’m joking. Of course it’s for you. I’d move mountains for you, princess. I’d dance myself to fucking death. Anything you want.”
He’s staring at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world to him, and a wide smile splits my face.
“I live for that smile,” he says. And for a moment we’re still, in our own tiny bubble in a room full of movement and energy.
Then Ethan spins me around and turns his back to me, setting my hands on his hips, starting a conga line, weaving through the crowd, picking up more and more dancers as we go. He glances over his shoulder and winks. “I meant it when I said anything .”
As the afternoon progresses, the dancing continues, people taking turns showing off their best—and worst—moves. Everything feels so light: a celebration of our hard work and community spirit. Then the music shifts to a slower song, and Ethan pulls me close, our bodies swaying together. It’s a perfect moment, surrounded by friends, our town slowly healing, and the man I’m falling for holding me tight.
Ethan leans down, his lips brushing my ear. “This is exactly what we needed,” he murmurs.
My heart is full. “Yeah, it really is.”
We dance like that for a while, lost in each other and the music, until the song ends and we take our places either side of the bar. As the sun dips lower in the sky, the crew starts to filter out, and the Tavern slowly quiets down, slipping back into its new normal. A couple of regulars sit at the bar, nursing their drinks, but otherwise the place is empty.
Ethan pulls out his laptop and takes a seat at a corner table. The soft glow of the screen illuminates his face as he catches up on some work, fingers flying over the keyboard. He glances up occasionally, catching sight of me moving behind the bar, cleaning up and putting things in order. It’s comforting to know he’s here, even if we’re not talking.
Evening finally comes, and it’s time to close. As I wipe down the bar, Ethan stands beside me, sandalwood and his distinctly masculine scent reaching me moments before his touch, his tender hand reaching out, gently squeezing my shoulder. “You okay, princess?”
“Yeah, just a lot on my mind.”
He doesn’t push, just stays there, a comforting presence. “You wanna talk about it?.”
I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the heavy feeling. “Not right now.”
We finish cleaning and closing up in companionable silence. As we lock the doors and step out into the cool night air, I can’t help but glance at my phone again, David’s message a constant weight around my heart. Wishing I could get rid of the worry, but it lingers, a reminder that not everything is as perfect as it seems.
Ethan’s staring at me: “Hey, come with me. I want to show you something.”
He takes my hand, his grip warm and reassuring, and leads me down to the marina where the Freedom is docked. The boat rocks gently against the pier as we step on board.
He guides me to the front of the boat, laying out a thick, cozy blanket on the deck. “Come on, lie down with me.”
I settle down next to him, the blanket warm against the coolness of the evening. Fall is almost here, the seasons changing, summer fading behind us.
We lie there, side by side, staring at the expanse of stars above us. It’s breathtaking, the sky a canvas of twinkling lights. I feel both incredibly small and inexplicably significant, like I’m part of something vast and beautiful.
Ethan’s voice breaks the silence, low and reflective. “I know something’s up, but I don’t know what. I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark and guess this has to do with your moms or David.”
His words take me by surprise. “Maybe a little of both,” I say, staring up at the sky.
He takes my hand, a treasuring hold, his thumb tracing circles against my palm. “My parents’ marriage was a disaster. They hated each other, and I was always caught in the middle. I understand how much it hurts right now with Charlotte gone. It’s like a part of you is missing, and you don’t know if it will ever come back.”
I turn my head to look at him, his handsome profile illuminated by the faint glow of the marina lights. “It’s hard,” I admit. “I keep thinking she’ll walk through the door, but she doesn’t. And I don’t know how to make things better.”
“The not being able to change things, that feeling of having no control is the worst part.” He reaches out with his other hand, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Have you heard from David? He hasn’t shown up again, has he?”
I sigh, feeling the weight of his question. “He sent me a text this afternoon. It just said, How could you do this to me? I don’t know what to do.”
He looks up at the stars, the vast enormity of it all reflected and condensed in his pupils. “Part of me thinks maybe you should just testify against Sylvia, especially if you believe David is telling the truth about the abuse. It will calm him down and maybe he’ll stop hassling you. Leave you alone.”
A flash of defensiveness for David soars through me: “I don’t want him to leave me alone. And I don’t remember anything like that. It feels unethical to make accusations that, for me at least, I know aren’t true. I believe she hurt David, but nothing happened to me.”
Ethan’s jaw tightens, and he turns to face me fully. “I get it. You’re in an impossible situation.”
“Yeah.”
He raises my hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “Man, that Sylvia sounds like a real piece of work. I’m sorry you had to go through that. It hurts me to think of you as a child in places that weren’t safe.”
His words hit me hard, a lump forming in my throat. “I was so scared all the time,” I confess. “But David... he was always there, sneaking me food when I was punished, trying to make things better. I can’t imagine how much worse it was for him after I left.”
Ethan’s eyes soften. “You’re so strong. But you don’t have to carry this burden alone. I’m here for you, however you need me.”
A surge of gratitude. “Thank you. It means a lot to me. I just... I don’t want to drag you into this mess.”
He shakes his head. “I’m already in it. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
We lie there in silence for a while, the gentle rocking of the boat and the soothing sounds of the water creating a peaceful backdrop despite my churning thoughts.
“Talk to me,” he says, his voice low.
I take a deep breath, the familiar ache of old memories stirring in my chest. Ethan’s steady presence beside me gives me the courage to keep talking about that life I left behind so many years ago.
“It wasn’t all bad, you know. Being in foster care. There were some decent people who were really trying to make a difference in kids’ lives despite the flawed system. Case workers and foster parents who genuinely wanted to help. There were a couple of people over the years that were really invested in seeing me succeed.”
Ethan listens intently, his gaze never leaving mine.
“But the system is so broken.” A note of bitterness creeps into my tone. “Kids fall through the cracks all the time. Sometimes there aren’t even emergency placements available, and children end up sleeping in the caseworkers’ offices.”
I pause, swallowing hard. “I had to do that several times when I was a kid. It was awful. Crying toddlers, angry teenagers. No privacy, no sense of security. Just lots of hurting kids.”
Ethan’s hand tightens around mine, his expression pained. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”
“It was.” I pause, slightly hesitant to share the dream I’ve been harboring for so long. It feels big to share it with him. Big, but right.
“But it’s given me a goal. I want to organize proper emergency accommodation here in Harbor’s Edge for kids who need it. A safe place where they can stay until a suitable foster home is found. I’ve already spoken to the mayor about it. She’s on board, but it’s just a matter of finding the money.”
Ethan gives me this look, like I’m someone good, someone he admires, and it makes me feel almost whole, like I’m healing in ways I didn’t know I needed.
“That’s an incredible dream, princess. You’d make a huge difference in so many kids’ lives.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I’m overwhelmed by his support. “I just... I don’t want any other kids to feel as scared and alone as I did.”
“You’re amazing, you know that?” His voice is gentle as he asks, “Do you ever have contact with your biological family?”
I pause, a mixture of emotions welling up. “No, not anymore. My birth family had a lot of struggles with addiction. My mom left when I was just a baby, and my dad… he tried, but he couldn’t stay clean.”
The memories come flooding back: the house, how it was always so dirty, how there was never enough to eat, the cupboards bare. The strangers who’d come over in the middle of the night. How my dad would disappear sometimes.
He was like two different people: my dad, who tucked me in at night and made up amazing bedtime stories, and the man with the glassy stare, the agitated, desperate one. The one who sold everything we owned for his next hit.
“Do you know where your dad is now?”
“He’s dead. An overdose.” The finality of the words makes Ethan flinch, and he tightens his grip on my hand.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. But please don’t just think of him as an addict. When he had moments of sobriety, he would really try to connect with me, and he was doing his best to get clean. There was this bedtime story he used to tell me about a brave little girl who could do anything she set her mind to. Even now, I think about him and miss him.”
Ethan’s eyes never leave mine, his expression tender and unwavering. “It sounds like he loved you a lot.”
There’s a lump in my throat. “He did, in his own way.”
“You’ve lost so many people.”
A bitter laugh. “Yep, and I’ve learned that whenever I become a burden, the people in my life disappear. It’s safer for everyone if I stand on my own two feet.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, but Ethan doesn’t look shocked. He just reaches for my hand, his touch grounding me. “Look, I know you’re used to carrying everything by yourself, but even the strongest people need a break. You deserve to lean on someone who’s willing to stand by you, not walk away.”
We lie there in silence for a while, the weight of the past and the promise of the future hanging in the air between us. Despite everything, I feel a glimmer of hope.
Ethan squeezes my hand, his grip warm and reassuring, and I look up at the night sky, the stars twinkling like scattered diamonds across a dark, inky canvas. The cool night air brushes against my skin, and for a moment, everything feels still and serene, despite my worries.
Life has thrown so much at me—pain, loss, and uncertainty—but in this moment, under the massive expanse of the universe, there’s a strange sense of peace.
It’s as if the stars themselves are whispering that everything will be okay, that there’s a bigger plan at work as long as I don’t try to fight it.