Chapter Thirty-Two
REID
I TOLD COLT I had to go—Emery needs me.
He gave me a look that said you’re so whipped but didn’t argue, and I’ve never moved so fast in my life.
When I find her—right where I left her—she’s pale as a ghost and trembling. Guilt hits me square in the gut. I never should have left her to fend for herself.
By the time Kayla shows up an hour later, I’ve convinced Em to take a break. I tell Kayla to man the booth while Emery and I hunt down a funnel cake. She deserves to experience something good today.
The air smells like sugar, grease, and sunscreen as we step out into the crowd.
Emery laces her fingers through mine, and leans into my arm, clinging to me with both hands like she needs the contact.
I look down at her as we walk. She’s perfect in a pair of cut-offs and a bright red tank top.
Her blond hair is French braided, and a pair of black over-sized sunglasses cover half her face.
She’s way too beautiful for me and yet, somehow, she’s mine.
I swallow the urge once again to tell her I love her. It’s not because I’m second guessing it. I knew the truth the night she went out with her friends and my world went dark for the ten minutes I didn’t know where she was.
I just don’t know if she’s ready to hear it.
She’s not a Tidehaven lifer. She deserves the freedom to choose where she belongs.
She’s never expressed interest in staying here, and I would never want to tie her down.
So instead of telling her how I feel, I take what I can get—time with her until she leaves.
And then maybe I’ll go with her or maybe I’ll say goodbye.
But either way, I’ve been alone before, and I’ll be okay because Emery’s happiness means more to me than my own.
“Do you think I’m okay?” she asks suddenly, as we approach a booth selling fresh funnel cakes.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Maybe this was a bad idea. I just can’t shake the feeling that something is off.” She bites her lip, and it sends a jolt right to my core.
I tug her close. “You’re okay, baby. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
That earns a quiet exhale, and she slumps against me.
“You deserve to enjoy your holiday too,” she says, her voice lighter now.
“I am.” I grin at her before scanning the menu. “We’ll take one original funnel cake and two ice cold lemonades, please.”
The teenage girl behind the counter smiles and the boy working next to her perks up.
“Oh hey, you’re the turtle lady, aren’t you?” he asks, handing us our drinks.
“That’s me,” Emery says, but her voice is quiet.
“I think it’s so cool what you’re doing.” The kid grins.
“You do?” Emery doesn’t bother to hide her surprise.
“Yeah, I mean, let’s face it, Tidehaven is small. Most people here only care about fishing and shrimping. Nobody talks about what happens when the sea life starts disappearing.” He hands us some napkins as the girl brings over a piping hot funnel cake.
Emery blinks, caught off guard. “You think other people actually care?”
“Sure,” he says. “It’s just—some folks here like to look the other way.”
“Or stay quiet,” the girl adds softly. “Because they’re scared.”
“Why would they be scared?” I ask, tilting my head curiously.
“You know, if they aren’t marine scientists, they couldn’t possibly have proof.” She shrugs. “Just scared no one would believe them maybe?”
“Part of me wonders if that old director had proof…” The boy trails off, his eyes darting to me, gauging my reaction.
Emery stiffens beside me, her fingers tightening around mine. “Thanks for the treats,” she says, backing away.
“Happy fourth!” they call after us with a wave.
Heat pricks at the back of my neck as we walk down the boardwalk, that kid’s words nagging at me. I force myself to let it go for now and focus on the day ahead and the beautiful girl next to me that I am hopelessly, madly in love with. If only she knew.
BY NIGHTFALL, THE festival has turned golden under strings of white twinkle lights.
Revelers are camped out on the small beach and along the boardwalk, waiting for the fireworks to begin.
Emery and I staked out a perfect spot, just at the end of the boardwalk.
I stand behind her, boxing her in against the rails.
The warmth of her body sends a shiver up my spine.
When the fireworks start, I’m not looking at them—I’m looking at Emery, each blast painting her face in strobes of color.
I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her closer.
She settles into my chest and sighs. I lean down, planting a soft kiss on her neck and debate telling her I love her for the fiftieth time today.
“This feels like a happy ending,” she murmurs, looking up at me with a smile.
“God, I hope so.”
The next bursts move slowly upward, making a whistling sound, their flashes of white lighting up the water.
But the boom that follows doesn’t match these fireworks.
It isn’t part of the show. It’s deeper—like an explosion of some kind.
The ground shakes beneath our feet, and the roar that follows is enough to vibrate through my chest. My instincts flare and I know immediately something’s wrong.
For a second, no one moves. Fireworks continue overhead, their beauty masking chaos. Then everything happens in slow motion—someone screams, then another voice joins in. The crowd erupts and suddenly people are scattering, shouting, clutching small children.
“Reid.” Emery’s voice cracks as she reaches behind her and grips the hem of my shirt. “What was that?”
“Not fireworks,” I grit out, the words tasting like metal. I grab her hand, pulling her behind me as I walk, scanning the horizon. A column of thick smoke curls up from the marina, turning the purple sky black. A second later, a thick orange glow crackles at its base.
“Shit,” I mutter, my training kicking in before fear has the chance. “It’s the docks.”
Emery’s face pales and her breathing goes shallow. “Kayla. She was stopping by the research center to lock up.”
I catch her chin gently, but firmly, forcing her eyes to mine. “Hey. Stay calm. We don’t know anything yet. We’re going to stay together.”
She doesn’t have a chance to respond before the crowd presses in on us as more people realize what’s happening. Sirens wail in the distance, and I tuck Emery under my arm, keeping her close as I push us toward the street. I choke on the thick smell of smoke permeating the air.
When we reach the street, Colt’s cruiser skids to a stop and he’s out of the vehicle before it’s even stopped rolling. His radio crackles—backup is enroute.
“Are you guys okay?” he asks, frantic.
“We’re fine. What the hell happened?” I ask him.
“Fire on the docks. Explosion. I called for more back up, but we need some help down there now.” Colt is breathless, wiping sweat from his brow.
“I’m coming.”
Emery grips my wrist. “Reid. Don’t. Please.”
My chest constricts. “I have to baby. This is my marina.” I kiss her forehead. “I’ll be careful.”
I dig in my pocket for my keys and toss them to her. “Wait in the truck. Lock the doors. I’ll come find you as soon as I can.”
“Reid.” Her voice is a whimper.
But I’m already moving through the crowd toward the blaze. The acrid stench of burning fiberglass fills my lungs, the hiss and crackle of fire growing louder. My boots hit the docks hard, but my heart is hammering harder.
By the time I reach the action, chaos has taken over.
Men with hoses are trying to keep the flames from jumping to the next line of boats, their faces slick with sweat.
Colt’s backup arrives, shouting orders, pushing people back.
The Drift Net sign flickers weakly overhead, glass popping in the heat.
I see Tate immediately, standing with Colt, and I instinctively move beside him.
He’s somber, staring at the flames.
“Fuck,” he mutters. Then again, louder and angrier. “FUCK!”
I clap an arm around his back, holding him firmly, supporting him the way he’s done for me so many times. He looks at me, eyes ablaze, and sucks in a breath, steadier now.
Together we watch in silence as Tate’s father’s legacy burns into the bay.
I glance over Colt’s shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of what caught fire.
Then I see it and my stomach sinks. Several boats in this row of slips are caught in the blaze but two of them catch my eye.
First, the small skiff with Tidehaven Research Center emblazoned on the side, the letters melting off from the scorching heat.
To its right, the Miss Tidehaven, half-engulfed, the name barely visible on its stern.
Fuck. Beau has been away for work. He’s going to be so pissed.
A knot forms in my throat, and I have to look away.
Then, I spot him. Atlas Rourke. Leaning against the side of the research center, watching the fire destroy everything in its wake, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. His gaze flicks to me, and the corner of his mouth tips up. He gives me a subtle nod—like a dare I won’t take.
And suddenly everything feels far too quiet. The fireworks stopped. The crowds have dispersed. Only the fire speaks now.
Emery’s boat and the boat she saw in the marsh all those weeks ago—gone. Destroyed.
And then I know.
This wasn’t an accident.