Chapter 6
Floating on cloud nine, I head back to work.
My brain is still spinning from Linda’s call— I got the house.
A real place, with a yard and ocean views and room for Neptune to stretch out and be his glorious, moody self.
I’m barely through the door before George notices the grin I’m trying, and failing, to suppress.
“Someone have a good lunch break?” he teases.
“You could say that.”
The rest of the day rushes by in a happy blur.
Gavin and I drive out to Newport, where I meet the rest of the marine life response team.
Everyone is friendly and clearly passionate about the work, which only makes me more excited to be here.
There’s a sense of community that I’ve missed—one I didn’t realize how badly I needed until I found myself smack in the middle of it.
While Gavin chats with a few of the senior staff, I find myself talking with two newer team members, both around my age.
One of them, a tall, sun-kissed brunette with a surfboard sticker on her water bottle, introduces herself as Cassie.
“I moved here from Santa Cruz about ten months ago,” she says with a grin.
“Thought I’d only stay a season, but here I am, still freezing my ass off and loving every second of it. ”
Beside her is a guy in a zip-up vest and cargo pants, with a Seattle Mariners cap and a kind smile. “Rafi,” he says, offering a handshake. “From Olympia. I came out here for the work, stayed for the whales and the Wednesday night trivia.”
“Cassie and I are the newest resident transplants until you,” he adds with a chuckle. “But now you’ve taken the title.”
“I’m honored,” I laugh. “Do I get a sash or something?”
Cassie nudges me with her elbow. “Just a warning about the fog and the wind, and maybe a bottle of wine if you survive your first storm.”
“You’re going to do great here,” Rafi adds, sincerely. “Seriously, if you ever need anything, help settling in, restaurant recs, someone to talk to when the homesickness kicks in… we’ve got you.”
Their kindness catches me off guard. It’s one thing to be welcomed professionally, but this feels different. They’re really rooting for me. I already have people in my corner.
“Thanks,” I say, smiling. “That actually means a lot.”
“Just don’t steal our favorite whales and we’ll be fine,” Cassie teases, and I laugh again, feeling the last bit of nervousness melt away.
For the first time since getting here, I don’t feel like the new girl. I feel like I belong.
We leave Newport and make our way back down the coast toward Depoe Bay, stopping by the Whale Watching Center on the edge of town.
The wind’s kicked up, and the salt air stings, but the view is unbelievable, like something out of a documentary.
Dozens of tourists are crowded around the railings, cameras in hand, searching for movement in the water.
While we’re there, I meet Lilibeth, a game warden with long, gray-streaked waves pulled back into a loose ponytail. She pulls me aside, her eyes crinkling kindly.
“We host daily info sessions for tourists and school groups,” she says. “Locals too. You’ve got a presence about you—they’d love to learn from someone who actually studies these creatures.”
I nod, genuinely touched. “I’d be happy to help out when I can. Anything to get people excited about protecting our waters.”
She claps me on the shoulder like we’ve known each other for years. “That’s the spirit.”
Once we’re back at the office, the clouds are rolling in again, the wind carrying its signature Oregon chill.
George and Gavin invite me to the local winery for a celebratory drink.
Apparently, it’s tradition to initiate new team members with a glass of something aged in oak barrels, but today I have other plans.
“Rain check?” I ask as I grab my bag. “I’ve got a date with a lease agreement.”
They let out mock groans but wave me off with smiles as I head out.
Linda’s office is just across town, and by the time I get there, she already has everything lined up neatly on her desk.
The contract. The check instructions. A manila folder with printed photos of the house, like it’s some sort of adoption file.
I skim, ask a few questions, and sign on the dotted line.
“Keys will be ready Wednesday,” she says, handing me a receipt. “Just stop by on your lunch break.”
I thank her and practically float out of the office.
I head straight back to the hotel, still buzzing from everything that just happened. As soon as I walk in, Neptune perks up, having waited for this moment all day. I trade my work clothes for leggings and an oversized hoodie, clip on his leash, and we’re out the door.
This time, we’re heading to the beach.
Neptune leaps into the truck, already knowing we’re headed somewhere good.
His whole body wiggles with excitement the second we pull into the small gravel lot by the bluff.
I barely have the truck in park before he’s pressing his face to the window, tongue lolling, tail slapping the seat.
I clip on his leash and grab the tennis ball launcher I picked up at the grocery store last weekend.
He’s practically dragging me down the narrow path that leads to the sand, his ears perked and nose twitching, cataloging every new scent.
That’s the beauty of this place—how quiet and untouched it feels. We pass a few people on our way down: a couple walking hand-in-hand, an older man sitting on a driftwood log with a sketchbook in his lap. But mostly, it’s just us, the sea, the sky, and the soft hush of waves lapping at the shore.
Once we’re far enough down the beach, I unclip his leash.
“Go on, Neps,” I tell him.
He bolts. Full throttle, ears back, paws kicking up wet sand as he makes a beeline for the water. He doesn’t even hesitate, just runs right in, letting the cold surf wash over his legs. I laugh as he turns around with a huge doggy grin, water dripping from his fur, eyes bright.
“You’re insane,” I call out, but I’m grinning too.
I whistle and launch the tennis ball with the flinger. He chases it immediately, splashing through the waves like some kind of sea beast. Within seconds, he’s back with the ball in his mouth, tail wagging furiously, looking at me, expecting me to do it again.
And I do. Again, and again, and again.
He doesn’t tire.
As I throw and he retrieves, my thoughts drift. This dog… he’s either a genius or someone spent serious time training him. He follows every command like he’s been doing it for years. Gentle when he takes the ball, responsive to the slightest whistle, never straying too far.
So why leave him?
Why would someone put that much love and effort into a dog—into Neptune—and then abandon him outside a shelter with nothing but a torn leash? Not even a name.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get the answer, but I do know this: I’m glad he found me.
Neptune bounds back, triumphant, ball clenched in his mouth, tail whipping the air. He drops it at my feet, tongue lolling, clearly exhausted—but still buzzing with energy like we’ve just arrived.
“Okay, one more,” I laugh, picking it up. “But then we’re done, I’m starting to get hungry”.
I wind my arm back and launch the ball,
and immediately realize I’ve aimed it straight toward a man walking down the beach.
Shit.
“Sorry!” I call out, already reaching for Neptune’s leash. “Neppy, come!”
The man doesn’t flinch. He’s laughing. And beside him, padding along in perfect sync, is a dog that looks exactly like Neptune.
Same coat. Same floppy ears. Same easy, confident gait. Like they were separated at birth.
The second the two dogs lock eyes, I freeze.
There’s no barking or growling. They’re still. Their tails stiff, legs planted, ears high.
Oh no, I think, they’re gonna fight.
“Neptune!” I say sharply, already stepping forward to intercept.
And then—
Chaos.
Glorious, tail-wagging, sand-flinging chaos.
They leap into motion, not to fight—but to play. Racing in wide circles, leaping over driftwood, crashing into the surf with wild, barky joy. As if they’ve been waiting for this reunion their whole lives.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
I jog toward them, wanting to get closer before they turn into an unstoppable blur, when I catch a glimpse of the man.
Wearing blue sweats and a faded t-shirt clinging to his chest from the sea mist. A familiar profile, strong jaw, steady gaze.
It’s him.
Aiden.
The guy who threw his jacket over me like some brooding storybook hero during the seal rescue.
He hasn’t seen me yet. His attention is still on the dogs, a soft grin curving his lips as he watches them play.
But when I get close enough, he finally looks up.
And yeah, he definitely sees me now.
His eyes do a slow double-take, dragging over me, memorizing every detail. From the damp flyaways escaping my hoodie to my sandy sneakers.
And the way he looks at me, not just a glance, but a look that settles low in my stomach and refuses to leave, his eyes saying something his mouth hasn’t figured out how to say yet.
I feel exposed, but not in a bad way. In a way that makes me stand a little straighter and makes my pulse hum.
I stop a few feet away, my heart tapping a rhythm that has nothing to do with the cold.
“Hey.”
His head tilts slightly, his grin softening into something unreadable. “May… hi.”
My cheeks betray me immediately. I feel the warmth rising, and judging by the flicker in his eyes, he definitely notices.
I clear my throat and gesture toward the dogs still circling each other in a blur of joy. “They seem to like each other.”
He glances their way, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Guess they’re already best friends.”
“What’s her name?” I nod toward the Neptune lookalike.
“That’s my best friend, Skye.”
I look back at Neptune, currently shoulder-checking Skye into a pile of kelp. “Well, Neppy’s officially obsessed.”
“Neppy?” His brows lift, a smirk beginning to form.
“Short for Neptune.” I shrug. “It fits.”