Chapter Forty-Two
REID
I’M PRETTY BUMMED when our two days away come to an end. It’s been the first real breath of peace in two months, but reality’s waiting for us back in Tidehaven.
Tate still hasn’t checked in. Colt has, though.
He said they got photos of the car—no fingerprints, no clear leads.
Whoever did it knew what they were doing.
They’re canvassing for witnesses, checking surveillance footage, but all they found was a pair of gloves and a crowbar dumped behind the research center.
I don’t tell Emery that part. She deserves a few more hours without that weight on her shoulders.
I’ve texted Tate a few times, tried calling once.
His responses have been short, clipped—like he’s talking to a stranger.
He mentioned the insurance adjuster came out.
That’s good, I guess. But the space between us feels heavier than I want to admit.
My best friend and business partner is keeping something from me, and I’m starting to realize it might change everything.
I tug the comforter up over the bed, tucking the corners the way my mom used to when I was a kid. Emery grabs the opposite end, smiling softly.
“Towels are folded and put away,” she says.
“Thanks.” I cross the room to grab our bags, forcing my focus on small tasks.
“I don’t want to go,” she admits quietly. “I love hiding out here with you.”
“I know.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to. “We’ll come back. Before…”
Before she leaves. Before any of this has a chance to fall apart. I don’t finish the thought, and thankfully she doesn’t press.
She swings her purse over her shoulder. “Shall we? Nothing left to clean up, right?”
“We’re good.”
I move to the sliding glass door, pull it closed, and flip the lock. The click echoes in the small room. I draw the shade, and the light drains out, leaving us in the kind of dim quiet that feels heavier than it should.
Emery slips her hand into mine. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” It’s a lie, but I squeeze her hand anyway. “Just not ready to go back.”
Outside, the truck waits in the gravel drive. The forest hums with late-summer life, all easy rhythm and calm, as if it doesn’t know what we’re heading back into.
I toss our bags in the bed of the truck and climb in, starting the engine. Emery pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head and start’s typing the directions into the GPS app. I don’t bother telling her I know the way.
“What should we listen to?” she asks, settling her phone in the cup holder. “Anything you’re in the mood for?”
“Let’s find a local station—AM radio—I’ve been getting weather alerts on my phone, I want to know what’s going on.
” I turn onto the main road. The weather service is calling for Tropical Storm Maeve, but the sky is clear blue and summer sun shines brightly.
It sure doesn’t feel like a storm’s coming.
I reach into the center console for a pair of shades just as Emery’s phone rings.
She holds it up, watching the screen flash. “It’s Alan,” she says. “Do you mind if I get it?”
“Not at all,” I say, focusing my gaze on the road ahead. A breeze rustles the Cypress trees, and it’s the only sign I can see that maybe the weather is changing.
“Hey, Alan,” Emery says, tapping the screen. “Things are good,” she says into the phone. She cradles it while reaching over to stroke my thigh.
I smile at her. Things are good with us. I just wish things were good with Tate and the marina and the damn town that raised me that somehow feels sinister now. Maybe it’s always been that way, or maybe growing up I just never wanted to see it for what it is.
“Wow, really?” Emery’s voice prompts me to look her way. “That’s generous. I mean, to be honest, I haven’t thought about what comes next. They don’t want to meet with me or anything? They just want to give me the job?”
She pauses and my heartrate picks up, suddenly desperate for her to hang up the phone and tell me what’s going on.
“Well, shouldn’t we see where things land once the sabbatical is up in three months?” Emery eyes me, listening intently to the voice on the other end. “Well, okay, yeah. I guess that makes sense. How long do I have?”
I suck in an audible breath, and her eyes meet mine for a brief second, a small smile playing on her lips.
“Okay. I’ll touch base next week then, once this storm passes. Thanks, Alan.”
She hangs up and stares silently out the window.
“Well?” I ask incredulously.
“Well, what?”
“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” I frown at the road in front of me.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she teases.
“Ha-ha.” I glance at her. “Tell me.”
“Coastal Carolina wants to know if I’ll stay on long term as a university field scientist and run an internship program out of the research center.
They’re expanding their marine biology program, and they’re impressed with my resume so they wanted to give me the opportunity before they listed the position externally. ” She bites back a smile.
“I sense a but coming,” I murmur, reaching for her hand.
“But…it would be a big move. A permanent one. It would mean leaving my tenured position in New Jersey to work for a new university where I have no job security. I told Alan I need to think about it.” She squeezes my hand.
“Okay,” I say carefully, moving my hand away so I can turn the corner.
Emery pulls it back.
“But…”
My lips twitch. “But?”
“I’m leaning heavily toward yes…”
“You are, huh?” I lick my lips, turning to face her.
“There’s this guy I’ve fallen in love with, and now I can’t imagine my life without him.” Her voice is soft, like a whisper, a question she’s waiting for me to answer.
I grin, glancing quickly at her then back at the road. “I’ve fallen in love with you too, Doc.”
A comfortable, earned, silence settles between us as Emery fiddles with the radio in search of a local station. She’s turning the knob when an advisory cuts through the speakers.
“—tropical storm Maeve is now expected to strengthen as it moves up the coast. Residents of Tidehaven, Hollow Creek, and Calusa Harbor are urged to prepare for possible flooding and gusts exceeding sixty miles per hour. Evacuation advisories may be issued later today. Residents are urged to secure property and be prepared to leave within twenty-four hours if conditions worsen.”
“Shit,” she mutters. “That’s us.”
“Yep.” I let out a low breath. “Within twenty-four hours too. We’ll need to board the cabin and the cottage. And I’ll probably need to help Tate at the marina.”
“Okay, well, we got this. We can do it.” She squeezes my thigh.
“Never a dull fucking moment.”
Tate still hasn’t called. I thought for sure he’d check in with all the storm warnings happening. I hate that the silence between us feels louder than the thunder waiting on the horizon.
As the miles roll by, the landscape flattens, trees giving way to marshes and open sky. The radio fades in and out with weather updates, local officials, reminders to move livestock and tie down outdoor furniture.
Emery pulls her knees up, chin resting on them. “You think it’ll be bad?”
“Bad enough,” I say. “Storm surge will tear through the docks if we aren’t prepared.”
We cross the causeway as the wind picks up, rippling across the water.
Some storefronts are already tacked with sheets of plywood, but fishermen are still drinking coffee outside the diner like it’s any other day.
Seagulls swirl low and restless. Tate’s truck is parked crookedly by the boathouse, and he’s standing on the dock with his clipboard, barking orders at his teenage deckhands.
I cut the engine. “Stay here,” I tell Emery, though I already know she won’t.
She follows me across the gravel anyway, hair whipping in the breeze, the rain smell already heavy in the air.
Tate looks up as we approach. His expression is unreadable with the same closed-off look he’s worn around me for days.
“Figured you’d head straight here,” he says.
“Maeve’s moving fast,” I say. “We need to haul in what we can and board some windows.”
“Already started,” he says, his tone clipped. He’s all business, no warmth, like we haven’t known each other for thirty years. “Half the charter boats are coming in now. If the track holds, we’ll get the northeast side of it. That’s the ugly one.”
I nod, glancing toward the water. The tide’s higher than it should be, the blue sky from earlier already bruising gray. “So, what’s your plan?” I ask, knowing he won’t be forthcoming if I don’t.
“I want everything under thirty feet hauled out by tonight. Big boats get extra lines. Windows here at the shop go up first thing tomorrow morning if the ten a.m. advisory doesn’t change.” Tate flips a page on his clipboard, studying the chicken scratch.
“Whatever you need,” I say, my gaze focused on Emery a few yards back, her arms wrapped around herself, eyes tracking the horizon.
The calm from the cabin feels a million miles away. Any peace we found there is gone now, replaced by the threat of the coming storm.
“I’m going to go check the research center,” she calls when she catches my eye.
“Be quick,” I shout back.
Tate nods. “Good call. We’ll need to board it up—those back windows are old.”
We both watch her go, the silence between us stretching. I can feel everything we haven’t said about what’s been festering between us.
Finally, Tate exhales, glancing out at the flat, glassy water. “Look, man… I know things have been weird between us. I’m sorry I’ve been distant. Been dealing with some personal stuff, that’s all.”
He sounds so genuine, I almost believe him. But he won’t meet my eye, and his evasiveness still doesn’t sit right with me. Nevertheless, we don’t have time to hash it out now. “We’re good,” I say. “Let’s just get through this storm.”
He claps me on the shoulder. “Tomorrow we’ll board the rest, make the call on evacuating if Maeve stays on track.”
Before I can answer, Emery jogs toward us. “Looks like everything’s secured at the research center. We just need to do the windows,” she says, slowing her pace as she reaches us.
Tate nods. “We can do those in the morning.”
“All right. Let me know if anything changes,” I tell him. “Em, let’s go grab some groceries before Mama T’s closes.”
Just like that, everything feels almost normal again—Tate standing beside me like he always has, ready to take on whatever life throws our way. But as the breeze shifts inland, carrying that faint briny tang of the low tide, the unease comes creeping back.
And I can’t escape the feeling that everything’s about to change again.