Chapter Thirty-One
EMERY
I WAKE UP in Reid’s bed, sweating, the sheets twisted in my legs, and a crushing headache. It’s been a long time since I’ve drank four margaritas, and now I know that was a mistake. My stomach rumbles with nausea—did I even eat last night? I must have.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
Reid’s voice startles me, and my eyes fly open. I hadn’t realized they were still closed.
I cover my face and groan. “It’s so bright in here.”
Reid chuckles, setting something down on his nightstand. “That’s because it’s nearly eleven a.m.”
I jolt upright. “What? I haven’t slept this late in…years.” I rub my eyes, spinning to put my feet on the floor, but I’m halted by a wave of dizziness. A garbled groan escapes me before I can stop it.
“Whoa girl, settle down,” Reid says, helping me back into bed. “It’s Sunday. We’ve got nowhere to be.”
“This feels wrong,” I mutter, tugging the blankets up to my chin. “But I don’t want to be right.”
Reid smiles and gently plants a kiss on my forehead. “I brought you coffee, electrolytes, and Advil. Because you were definitely drunk last night.”
“I was,” I agree. “It was good to see them though. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like my old self.”
Reid swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “What do you mean?”
“Just that, they’re my people, you know? I saw them every day for seven years and now I’m here in a new place and I don’t know anyone…” I let the words drop off.
“You know me.”
“Besides you. It took a while for us to like each other.” I giggle.
“Naw, I liked you from day one.” He inches closer to me, gripping my hand.
“Did you now?” I ask, nuzzling into him. He drapes his other arm over me, pulling me closer.
“Emery,” he starts, his voice low.
I look up and study him. He seems to be wrestling with something he can’t get out.
“What’s up?” I ask, shifting to look at him. I wince.
“Are you okay?” Reid asks, concern clouding his eyes.
“Headache.”
He reaches for the Advil and water on the table and passes them to me.
I toss the pills back and the electrolyte water soothes my dry throat. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” Reid tugs me close, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head.
“What were you going to say?” I ask.
“What?”
“You said my name, like you wanted to tell me something. What was it?” I bite back a smile, running my fingertips along his tight jaw.
“Oh, nothing.” He gives me a soft smile. “How about I make you some breakfast?”
He’s out of the room before I can reply.
THE NEXT WEEK slips by in a blur. Mornings with Reid always start the same way, him humming to himself in the kitchen while he fixes us coffee and breakfast before we part ways for the day.
Nights end with his arm slung across my hip, tugging me close as we drift off to sleep to the sounds of the marsh.
We fall into an effortless rhythm, cooking together, laundry, watching movies on the couch until we can’t keep our eyes open.
Blackbird Cottage feels like a distant memory.
Every day I tell myself it’s time to pack up and go back.
It’s too soon to cohabitate with a new partner.
But every night I find another reason to stay.
I think I’m falling in love with Reid.
It’s the kind of love that sneaks up on you—crashes into you like an ocean wave and knocks the wind out of you when you least expect it.
But I don’t dare say it. He’s just starting to let me in. Something tells me this would send him running in the other direction. So, I keep my mouth shut and enjoy every piece of him he’ll give me.
By the time the week comes to an end, the town is abuzz with Fourth of July Festival preparations. For the first time in a long time, things feel almost normal. Almost.
THE FESTIVAL IS in full swing by the time Reid and I get to the boardwalk. He’s carrying a folding table under one arm and a folding chair under the other. I’ve got a backpack full of supplies and box full of turtle pamphlets to hand out.
The air smells of funnel cake and corn dogs, and a band is set up on a small stage near the pier. Red, white, and blue streamers flutter from every post, kids dart between vendors with dripping ice cream cones—the boardwalk is alive in a way I’ve never seen.
“You sure this is the best spot?” Reid asks, nodding to the tent Kayla set up with a banner that reads: Keep Tidehaven Wild: Save Our Marine Life!
“Close enough to the action to get foot traffic,” I say, spreading a tablecloth on the table he’s just popped open. “But not so close that we call a lot of attention to ourselves.”
“Strategic. Got it.” Reid grins faintly. “I approve.”
He watches while I spread out pamphlets, refrigerator magnets, coloring pages for kids, and a few laminated photos of turtles we’ve rehabilitated.
The sight of my display makes pride bloom in my chest—I feel like myself.
Like I’m just a scientist again, not some girl running from her own shadow.
So much of that has to do with Reid and how safe he makes me feel.
“Is Kayla coming?” he asks, as the radio clipped to his belt crackles.
“After lunch. She’s doing some raffle with her friends first.”
“Good.” Reid’s hand finds the small of my back, and I know it’s not just affection, it’s protective. “You’ve got a good view from here. I’ll keep close.”
I know he means it, but when Colt calls over the radio for all security to report to the Police Department booth, I feel a pang of unease.
This is the first time I’ve been in such a large crowd since I arrived.
I brush my nerves away just as fast. I’m here to do my thing and he’ll be close by. I’m safe.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him, forcing a smile when he hesitates. “Go do your security thing. Colt needs you.”
He lingers for another beat, his eyes searching mine. “You text me if anything feels off.”
“I will,” I promise, shooing him away with a laugh.
“Bye,” he says, ducking out of the tent.
He’s back not a moment later, striding toward me with purpose. His hand finds the back of my neck, the other tipping my chin up to his. His lips are warm, with the faint taste of salt on his tongue. It’s not a deep kiss—after all, this is a family festival—but it sends a shiver through my insides.
“I couldn’t leave without a proper goodbye.” He smiles against my mouth.
“Much appreciated,” I whisper.
Reid pulls back, and with one last long look, he turns to go. “I’ll check on you in a bit.”
And then he disappears into the crowd.
For a while, everything is perfect. The hum of conversation, the rhythm of the band warming up, the sea breeze rustling my hair as people stop to ask about the turtles and the future of the research center.
I’ve forgotten how much I love teaching about marine life.
Kids giggle as they color their pictures, parents nodding politely as I explain turtle nesting patterns.
I lose track of time until the same prickling sensation I had that day in the marsh washes over me.
Two men stand near the end of the boardwalk.
Dale Langford and Atlas Rourke. Dale is dressed impeccably in a pair of navy-blue trousers, his white linen button down rolled to his elbows.
He wears aviators and Sperry’s, and a cigar hangs out of his mouth.
Atlas is sporting a pair of tan cargo shorts and tight-fitting black T-shirt.
Neither of them looks as if they belong with the other and yet, they’re talking, laughing, and looking my way.
Dale says something low in Atlas’s ear. He laughs before tossing me a wink.
My stomach twists.
I force a smile for the couple browsing my booth, but my hand trembles as I tuck a stray pamphlet into place. My eyes land on the men again. They don’t appear to be watching me, yet I can’t shake the feeling of unease. I pick up my phone and tap on Reid’s name.
Me: Hey. You close?
Reid: Always. Why?
Me: Langford’s here. And your friend from the bar. Atlas?
Reid: Stay put. Don’t talk to them. I’ll be right there.
When I glance up again, they’re gone. It’s as if they just vanished into the crowd. Still the back of my neck prickles as I scan my surroundings. Suddenly everything feels off—the music is too loud, the sun too bright.
I lock my phone and place it face down on the table, trying to steady my breath.
“I’m here, I’m here.” Reid’s voice cuts through the noise, and before I can speak, his arms are around me—solid and grounding. “What happened?”
“Nothing, they left,” I murmur against his chest.
“Then why are you shaking?” He pulls back to look at me, brushing hair from my face until I meet his steady gaze. “You’re safe, baby. I’ve got you.”
And for the rest of the afternoon, he doesn’t leave my side.