Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
brADEN
The lunch rush at Tidal Hops was winding down, but my mind was stuck on Tessa’s doorstep three nights ago. I went through the motions of wiping down the bar and refilling the garnish trays as images replayed in my head.
Through dinner, I’d heard something new in her voice.
Beneath the confidence and undeniable pride, there was a quiet hum of regret.
Maybe even the barest hint of doubt. It was the last thing I expected from the woman who had been so certain when she left Dove Key.
It changed things. Could the brilliant scientist, the one who got away, be questioning the very life she’d chosen?
Then came the kiss goodnight.
Her idea this time, not mine. And twelve years of heartache were obliterated in one melding of lips.
For a second, all I wanted was to pull her inside and finish what we’d started.
But I’d managed to step back, wish her a good night, and walk away with my control intact.
I was proud of that, but the victory was hollow.
We’d agreed to see where things went, but my heart hadn't signed that contract. The sheer force of my need for her was terrifying. The dam I’d spent twelve years building had developed a thousand cracks, and I had a feeling it was going to burst. I wasn’t sure I had any more doorstep goodnights left in me.
“Okay, spill.” Maria’s voice sliced through my thoughts. She planted her hands on her hips and faced me. “What’s going on with you and the gorgeous scientist?”
I kept my focus on the bar top, wiping a spot that was already clean. “The Lower Keys are a marine research hub, Maria. You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“Don’t be a smartass. The one who was sitting right here the other day, looking at you like you hung the moon.
” Maria’s dark eyes sparkled with knowing amusement.
“The one you gave a personal tour to. The one who made you smile like an idiot all afternoon. Before you went back to being all brooding and intense.”
“I’m not brooding.”
“You’re the definition of brooding.” She grabbed a clean glass and polished it, clearly settling in for an interrogation. “Which means either something happened, or something didn’t happen that you wanted to happen.”
Both, I thought, but didn’t say it out loud. Instead, I focused on the temperature gauge for the undercounter fridge, willing the numbers to require my immediate attention.
The past two days had been an exercise in controlled torture.
I’d been diving with Tessa and her team while Eli finished his class, exploring the reef systems she was documenting.
Watching her work with that fierce, focused intensity that made her eyes light up and her whole body come alive.
She found a section of reef where the coral polyps were showing unusual stress patterns, and her excitement underwater had been electric.
But on the surface, we maintained the boundaries. Professional. Distant. The exact opposite of how that kiss on her doorstep had been. How it had felt. Today the team was back to a site that didn’t require a resort presence on board, and I was back to Tidal Hops.
“It’s complicated,” I said finally, the understatement of the century.
“Complicated how? You like her, she clearly likes you. You’re both adults. Where’s the complicated part?”
“She’s leaving in eleven weeks.”
“Ah. An expiration date. That always sucks.” Maria set down the glass with a soft clink and watched me for a long moment, her gaze sharp and perceptive. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it? I’ve seen you navigate temporary before. This looks different.”
I let out a long breath and leaned against the back counter, the fight going out of me. “We have history.”
“Okay.” She didn’t press, just waited, giving me the space to continue.
“She was my high school girlfriend. My first... everything. Then she got a full ride to a big university. She left to build this incredible life, and I stayed here.” I gestured vaguely at the fermentation tanks and the whole brewpub around us.
“And I’ve spent the last twelve years building this and picking up the pieces she left behind. ”
Maria was quiet for a moment, absorbing that. “Now that sounds complicated. But the boy she left behind isn’t the man standing in front of me now.”
I glanced up, surprised by her perspective.
“You’ve built this,” she said, her gaze sweeping around the room with pride.
“A business. A life. Maybe she needs to see the man you’ve become.
And maybe you need to let yourself be him.
” She walked over and tapped me on the chest with her index finger.
“So instead of counting down the days until she leaves, maybe you should focus on making them count.”
I snorted. “Now you sound like my mom.”
Before she could respond, the door to the brewpub opened, flooding the interior with afternoon sunlight. I looked up automatically, then froze as the oxygen was sucked from the room.
Tessa stood in the doorway, practically vibrating with energy.
She was still in her work clothes—khaki shorts and a faded Scripps T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail—but something about her was different.
Her whole face was lit up, her eyes bright with excitement that made my chest hurt.
“Braden!” She rushed across the empty dining room, her flip-flops slapping against the polished concrete floor. “I need to talk to you.”
Maria gave me a pointed look and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving us alone.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, coming around the bar. “Did something happen on the dive?”
“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s right.” She grabbed my arm, her fingers digging into my bicep. “I found an anomaly. A survivor.”
Her words tumbled out in a rush. I stared at her, trying to process the shift from our careful distance to this—her hands on me, her face inches from mine.
“A survivor?” I repeated.
“At the west slope site this morning. We were mapping the extent of the die-off, swimming over a section of rubble. It’s supposed to be a graveyard, right?”
I nodded. “Has been for years. A patch here and there that aren’t dead, but no one goes there anymore.”
“Well it’s a good thing we did! Because right in the middle of the desolation, there is a beautiful colony of Elkhorn coral that is perfectly, impossibly healthy.”
She listed a bunch of technical terms that flowed together, but I caught the gist. I stilled as I focused intently on her words.
“It makes no sense,” she continued, barely pausing for breath. “The conditions there are abysmal. But this colony? It’s thriving. It’s a genetic outlier. A super-coral.”
“A super-coral?” A fluttering took off in my stomach at the term.
Her eyes shined with hope. “If we can figure out why this specific colony is immune—if we can map its genetic profile—we could use it to re-seed the damaged areas at Marker 22. Elsewhere too. It’s not just data anymore. It’s a blueprint for a cure.”
“Tessa.” I said her name, but it was drowned out by a low laugh that started deep in my chest. “You went looking for ghosts and found a miracle.”
“We found a breadcrumb,” she corrected, grinning.
“But it changes the scope of the project. I have to figure out how this thing is fighting back.” Then she whipped her head, as if to shake herself out of it.
“Though this is only one data set. A very promising one, but it’s just the start.
We still need to replicate the findings and analyze control sites—”
“Hey,” I cut her off gently, stepping a little closer. “Let yourself have the win. It’s the first real breakthrough this reef has seen in years. That was all you.”
“It was us,” she corrected. “Your knowledge of the currents and sites saved me weeks of guesswork.”
The excitement between us settled, replaced by something quieter and more charged.
Her face was flushed from the victory, her eyes shining, and all the reasons I’d been keeping my distance suddenly felt like flimsy excuses written on bar napkins.
I wasn’t thinking about eleven weeks from now, or twelve years ago.
I was just thinking that I didn’t want this moment to end.
And the dam burst.
“You deserve a real celebration,” I said, my voice dropping slightly. “More than just a beer at the end of a shift. I’ve been working on a new hazy IPA. It’s not on tap here yet because I’ve been brewing it at home. I could use a second opinion from a discerning scientist.”
The air thickened. We both knew I wasn’t just talking about beer. A small, knowing smile touched her lips as she held my gaze, understanding the real invitation perfectly. “Okay. Let’s go.”
My cottage was exactly as I’d left it this morning—clean, orderly, every surface clear. A perfect reflection of the controlled life I tried to lead. Closing the door behind Tessa was like sealing off the rest of the world, leaving only the growing heat between us.
“Kitchen’s this way.” My voice sounded a little too loud in the sudden quiet.
She followed me into the gleaming space of stainless steel and light wood. Her eyes landed on the professional-grade, four-tap kegerator built into the counter.
“Okay, so you weren’t kidding about the keg.” A smile warmed her face, easing some of the tension.
“I never kid about beer.” I pulled two tulip glasses from the freezer, the crystal ringing softly as I set them on the counter. “This one’s the new IPA. Heavy on the Citra and Mosaic hops. Should have notes of grapefruit, maybe a little mango.”
I pulled the tap handle, and the hazy, golden liquid swirled into the glass, a thick, fragrant head foaming at the top. I handed one to her, our fingers brushing.
She took a slow sip, her eyes closing as she savored it. “Wow. Braden, that’s perfect.”
“Glad you approve.” I took a drink from my own glass, leaning against the counter opposite her. The beer was an anchor, something to focus on other than the way the light caught the red strands in her hair.