Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
HARPER
I flexed my toes in the sand of Siesta Sunset’s beach, absorbing the sun-warmed grains as Finn shot past me.
He dragged Chase toward the water’s edge by the hand, his bright green snorkel and mask bobbing like antennae.
Chase, relaxed and effortless in board shorts—not to mention breathtaking—glanced over and waved at me.
It will be fine, I reminded myself as I lifted my hand in return.
Nothing like diving headfirst into a casual family outing with the man who’d haunted my thoughts and my body since our date at Orchid two weeks ago.
And in that time, Chase had slowly introduced himself into our lives.
Now it was time for the next step—melding together.
As Finn let go to dash along the shore, I studied Chase’s easy demeanor.
My heart did a little squeeze, hope and anxiety wrestling each other like the WWE.
I’d sat Finn down the day after our date at Orchid and explained that Chase and I had become very special friends, and that Finn would be seeing him more.
My sweet boy’s face had lit up like I told him he’d won a year’s supply of LEGOs.
And now this fun snorkeling and beach trip was a test of my heart’s ability to handle this not-so-casual outing.
I recalled Brenna’s words to relax for once and enjoy the moment.
At the time, it had seemed such an easy thing to do.
And I had, both during the date and the night after.
Especially the night after.
“Chase, look!” Finn crouched to poke at a patch of seaweed or maybe a washed-up sand dollar. He had his explorer face on—intense, delighted, ready to share his findings. Chase hunkered next to him, never rushing.
“Ready for your briefing, troops?” Eli’s voice carried over the waves.
He was striding toward us in bare feet and his dive instructor persona, a towel slung over one shoulder like a sash.
“Okay, Ashworth. Currents are negligible, visibility is excellent. Primary hazard: six-year-old with excessive enthusiasm.” He fixed Chase with a look, all mock-seriousness.
“Rule number one: Don’t let him try to snorkel upside down to look at crabs.
Rule number two: Don’t lose my nephew. Rule number three: Seriously, don’t lose him. ”
Chase grinned. “Got it. Protect the nephew at all costs.”
Shading his forehead with his hand, Eli inspected the reef visible below the rippling surface. “Don’t go out too far. Little dude might get tired out.”
“Eli,” I said and even managed to keep from slugging him. “I have taken my son snorkeling multiple times on this very reef. More than you.”
“Doesn’t mean you know what you’re doing,” he muttered.
Finn started giggling. “You’re silly, Uncle Eli.”
Folding his arms, the dive instructor stared down at my son. “What’s our rule?”
Finn arranged his face in a polite enough expression. “Diving or snorkeling is fun, but it’s also very serious.”
“My man!” The two high-fived.
“I think we got the important details,” Chase interjected before Eli could derail us any further. “Anything else, Captain?”
“Yeah,” Eli said, turning to me with a teasing glint in his eye. “Sure you don’t want me to chaperone? Make sure you guys don’t get lost down there?”
Chase and I exchanged a glance, and the laugh we shared eased some of the knots in my chest. “Get lost!” I said as Chase added, “Go find Jules.”
Eli left us with a satisfied smirk, his lanky stride carrying him back up the beach.
I shook my head, grateful for his antics and the noticeably reduced tension in my shoulders.
I didn’t want a chaperone. I wanted a chance.
Maybe Eli’s protective big-brother act had been a little over the top, but it reminded me what was on the line.
“Come on, come on!” Finn’s voice was a bubbling fountain of enthusiasm, and even the Florida sun couldn’t match his brightness.
I gave him an okay signal as I lowered my mask onto my face. “Looks like we’re ready!”
We waded into the gentle sea, and the clear turquoise water wrapped around our legs. The surface shimmered like a jewel. Finn splashed ahead, a blur of yellow rash guard and excitement. “I see fish already!”
Chase fell in step beside me, and the nearness of him sent another round of thrills through me. Especially after he held a steadying hand to my lower back. “This was a good idea.”
“Finn certainly thinks so. Hold up there!” When Chase and I caught up, we dipped under a wave, the water warm and clear. It felt like diving into more than the ocean—like diving into hope.
The world beneath the water was otherworldly, bright, captivating.
Chase and Finn were ahead of me, their silhouettes darting like two overgrown fish.
They moved in tandem, Chase pausing to point at a green sea fan, Finn practically vibrating with delight.
I hovered a little behind, caught in the pull of watching them fit so naturally.
It was the exact kind of family outing I’d never let myself imagine. Even though I’d initiated it, being here now felt surreal, like a movie I’d watched but wasn’t supposed to be in. Yet there they were—Chase and Finn, both absorbed, moving together in a dance as old as my fears.
A glimmer of blue parrotfish caught my eye, its scales reflecting the sunlight filtering through the water like living stained glass.
The fish darted between coral formations, its beak-like mouth nibbling at the reef.
I kicked my fins, moving closer to where Chase and Finn were examining a cluster of sea anemones.
I tapped Finn’s shoulder and pointed toward the vibrant fish. His eyes widened behind his mask. When we surfaced a moment later, he sputtered with excitement.
“Mom! Did you see how blue it was? And its mouth looked like a parrot!”
“That’s why they call it a parrotfish, buddy,” I said, pushing wet hair from my face.
Finn’s grin was infectious. “It’s just like the fish costume I’ll wear in the play. Mrs. Rodriguez said I could be the lead parrotfish! Chase, did you see it?”
Chase treaded water beside us, water streaming down his face. “Sure did. I think there’s a pufferfish down there too.”
We ducked our heads down and watched the brown-and-white puffer trundle along the reef. I let myself fall behind them just so I could observe as the sun bathed my back in warmth.
A sputter of bubbles interrupted the thought. Finn’s mask had leaked, filling with water, and he screwed his face up. Chase grabbed him, and we surfaced together. Chase fiddled with the strap, which had loosened, but couldn’t thread it back in.
Before I knew it, I was there, gently nudging Chase’s hands away. I reseated the mask with a practiced touch. “There you go.”
Chase watched me as we treaded water, his expression one of appreciation and something else—something that made me believe this could really work.
His smile met mine, and my heart did another one of those squeezes.
It was the briefest of exchanges, but in it, I felt the possibility of a future.
It was terrifying and exhilarating and so, so real.
He winked. “I know when to give way to the real pro.”
We snorkeled our way back toward the shore, and the hopeful, fragile feeling expanded in my chest. When we walked out of the water, the sand was cool and powdery beneath our feet.
We headed down the beach after Finn, a flutter of uncertainty still lodged in my chest. This day, this feeling—both seemed as precarious as the sandcastle that was next on the agenda.
And yet, for the first time in a long time, I felt like it was worth the risk.
The sun hung high, casting short, sharp shadows as we kneeled around our sandy construction site in front of the bonfire area we Coleridges hung out at periodically.
Buckets and shovels dotted the sand, evidence of our big plans.
Finn, the enthusiastic foreman, issued orders. “More water. The tower needs shells!”
Chase saluted playfully. “On it, Chief!”
Finn directed traffic as I placed my latest batch of shell decorations on our wobbly towers. “Chase, you build the bridge. Mom, we need more!” His voice held no doubt that we’d keep up with his big vision.
Chase was right in his element, adjusting and reinforcing, drawing Finn into every decision. “These turrets need a wider base. See? We don’t want them toppling over, do we?” He moved with energy, his sandy hands never resting.
“They won’t do that.” Finn laughed, scooping and patting and imagining a world where this creation was a castle fit for a king—no, an emperor.
We worked side by side, Chase’s knee brushing mine, his eyes finding mine with that new, wonderful familiarity.
Our gazes held for a long, beautiful moment.
We broke into smiles that felt as wide and bright as the sky above us.
I stood and went for more shells, the wind carrying Finn’s constant chatter.
He included Chase in everything, without pause or pretense, as though Chase had always been here.
Finn’s giggle erupted as a turret caved under the weight of its ambition. “Uh-oh, better fix it.” He handed Chase another bucket.
“Structural integrity,” Chase said with a straight-faced nod. “Very important. Don’t worry, we’ve got this.”
I let myself sink back down next to them, smiling at the small, earnest face before me.
“It’s almost done, guys.” Finn scooped more sand out of the moat. “We have to hurry before the waves get it!”
The waves. They came in, and they washed away.
It was all so wonderfully, beautifully simple, and yet I couldn’t shake the fear that it wouldn’t last, that Chase would see how messy and complicated it could be and walk away.
Worse, I feared the pain if Finn got attached and then lost this.
I didn’t know how to protect him from it. From this fragile happiness.
Our castle was sprawling, detailed, full of little touches. An intricate and delicate thing. We decorated the towers, bridges, and walls. We laughed when it fell, and we laughed when it stood tall.
Finn took off down the beach, searching for more shells to add to his stockpile.
Chase leaned in and gave me a quick kiss. “I’m having a blast.”
“Me too.” I smiled, letting myself believe it was that simple.
He tipped his head toward the castle. “I think we’re going to end up with a masterpiece, you know.”
“Of course, with you on the job. I heard you talking about structural integrity.”
“Hey, it’s important.” He pulled me close, his touch easy and familiar. “I like seeing you like this. Relaxed.”
“I like feeling like this.”
We watched Finn as he zigzagged along the shore, stopping to pick up anything that caught his eye.
“He’s a great kid,” Chase said. “You’ve done an amazing job with him.”
Warmth spread through me at his words. “Thanks. He really likes you.”
His hand found mine again. “The feeling is mutual.”
Finn came running back, arms full of treasures. “Look! I found the best shell ever!” He held it up triumphantly before adding it to our creation. Eventually, we had enough structurally sound towers and turrets decorated with shells.
Finn pressed a small piece of driftwood into my hand. “The flag! Put it on the biggest tower.”
“Let’s do it together,” I said, and the three of us planted the makeshift beach flag and declared victory. The warmth spread through me again, as fragile as the castles we built and as intense as the sun overhead.
I sat with it, this mix of longing and fear. Chase and Finn, side by side, already looked like a team. Like family. My hand went to my heart, resting there as if to keep it from breaking out and getting ahead of itself.
Sandcastles weren’t meant to last. But oh, how I hoped this would.