Chapter 14
Within thirty minutes, we’re pulling back into the Depoe Bay harbor.
The boat glides into place with practiced ease, the engine cutting as we’re secured. A small group of Coast Guard members waits by the ramps, and as soon as we step back onto solid ground, there’s clapping, congratulations, and a few pats on shoulders.
Rescuing and assisting animals this large isn’t something everyone gets to experience. It’s earned, and it’s celebrated.
As we make our way off the boat and toward the parking area, Cassie and George fall into a rapid back-and-forth about the photos she took and the plan to run them through the system to see if the whale shows up in any existing catalogs. I listen closely, tracking every word, every next step.
At least I try to.
My attention drifts when I notice someone working in the garden just outside the station.
Broad back. Black T-shirt. Backwards hat. He’s on his knees in the dirt, hands deep in the soil as he plants flowers with quiet concentration.
I slow without realizing it.
He lifts a hand to wipe sweat from his forehead, tugging his hat off as he does, and my breath catches.
It’s Aiden.
What is he doing here?
Cassie is still talking beside me, but I haven’t heard a word she’s said until—
“May?”
I turn to her, startled and more than a little flustered. I realize I’ve been staring at Aiden’s back for who knows how long.
Cassie follows my gaze, then looks back at me with a grin. “Wow. It must be difficult to be you.”
Heat rushes to my face. “Sorry.” I shake my head quickly. “I got distracted. What did I miss?”
“I asked if you had plans for lunch.” She’s still smiling.
“Oh.” I wince. “I’m sorry, I can’t today. I need to go home and take Neptune out. I’d invite you over, but all I have are leftovers from breakfast. I haven’t gone grocery shopping yet.”
Cassie laughs. “Did you at least finish moving in?”
“Yes. Luckily, the house is furnished, so it was pretty easy.” I smile. “Next time you’re in the office, I’d love to have you over for lunch so you can meet Neptune.”
“I’d love that.” She nods. “I’m going to grab some fish and chips. See you at the office a little later?”
“I’ll be there.”
She heads off, waving over her shoulder, and I stand there for a moment longer, watching her go.
Then I turn back toward the garden.
Aiden still has his back to me, completely absorbed in what he’s doing. I walk closer, careful not to startle him, and that’s when I notice he’s wearing earbuds.
I wonder what he’s listening to.
I’m right beside him when he finally senses me. He looks up, recognition flickering across his face before it breaks into a wide smile. He tugs the glove off his right hand and pulls one earbud free. “May, hi.”
“Hi.”
“What are you doing here?” His gaze flicks past me.
“We just got back from Whale Cove.” I motion behind me.
“Oh.” He stands. “I heard about the whale. How was it?”
He rises from where he’d been kneeling, straightening to his full height, and I can’t help noticing the way his T-shirt clings to his chest, the worn jeans, the hat pushing his hair back just enough to curl around his face.
I have to look away.
“It was actually a pretty simple entanglement,” I say, refocusing. “But it was so cool.”
His smile widens, and it’s impossible not to mirror it.
“That’s incredible. I’m glad you were there for it.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t text you.” I shift my weight slightly. “I didn’t want to wake you last night, and then this morning I got the call while I was walking Neptune. I haven’t had a second to myself.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Still.” I shake my head. “Thank you for everything you did yesterday. I owe you big time. You fixed my fridge, stocked it, and took care of Neptune—”
“Hey.” He shrugs gently. “It really was no big deal. I only brought over a few things from my fridge, and Neptune’s a pleasure to be around. Skye loves him.”
“What did you guys even do?” I ask. “I swear he didn’t move when I got home.”
Aiden grins. “We went on a ten-mile hike.”
I burst out laughing. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “I usually hike a few times a week with one of our neighbors and his dog. It was a good one. I actually took some pictures.”
He takes his phone out of his pocket, swipes a few times, then turns the screen toward me.
Neptune, Skye, and a black dog I don’t recognize. They’re sitting at the top of a mountain, the ocean stretching out behind them, the sky lit with sunset.
“Oh my God,” I breathe. “That’s beautiful.”
“That’s Houston.” Aiden nods toward the screen. “He lives two houses down from me. You’ll meet him and Nathan soon, I’m sure.”
“Will you send that to me?” I ask, handing the phone back.
“Of course. That reminds me.” He slips the phone into his pocket. “I still have the spare key to your house. I can drop it off later if you want.”
“No. Keep it, please. In case of an emergency. I don’t really know anyone here yet. I’d feel better if you had it.”
He studies me for a second, then nods. “Of course.”
I glance around. “So what are you doing here anyway? I mean, clearly you’re planting flowers, but is this a side gig? Are you a part-time gardener?”
He smiles. “Kind of. I take care of a few gardens around town.”
“A few?”
“Yeah.” He gestures with the small shovel in his hand. “Here, the fire station and the senior home.”
I must look confused, because he keeps going.
“My mom used to do it. She just… took it upon herself to keep them nice. When she couldn’t anymore, I started doing it for her. She’s been gone a few years now, but I’ve kept doing it. It’s something I do for her, but also for me. A way of keeping her with me.”
My chest tightens.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” he replies, his smile smaller now, but sincere.
I notice something behind him then—three hydrangeas freshly planted, their leaves bright and full.
He follows my gaze. “I planted those earlier. Blue, pink, and purple. Once they bloom, they’re going to look really beautiful.”
“I love hydrangeas,” I say, my eyes stinging. “They were my mom’s favorite.”
After I leave Aiden by the hydrangeas, the rest of the afternoon moves in a blur.
I head home first, walk Neptune, feed him, and finally sit down long enough to eat something myself. Yogurt, berries, and one of the bagels Aiden left for me. I take a bite and immediately make a mental note to ask him where he got them, because oh my God, it’s ridiculously good.
Then it’s back to work.
At the office, Cassie walks me through the catalog system, explaining how individual whales are tracked, logged, and identified over time. We pull up the photos from this morning, enlarge them on the screen, and study fluke patterns, scars, coloration, and proportions.
We cross-reference, zoom, and compare, but she doesn’t match any of the whales in the system.
That’s both exciting and concerning.
We log everything carefully—location, estimated size, condition, behavior, the entanglement itself. Based on her length and physical development, we determine she’s a juvenile, old enough to be independent for short periods, but young enough that it raises questions.
Is she truly alone?
Or was there family nearby, keeping their distance while she was compromised?
It’s not unusual. Humpbacks don’t abandon their young easily, and the possibility lingers as we finish the report.
Cassie swivels her chair toward me. “You get to name her.”
I pause, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Naming isn’t sentimental. It’s practical. It gives the data continuity, but it still feels like an honor.
I think of her surfacing again after the lines were cut. The strength in her movement. The way she disappeared into the water afterward.
“Solace,” I say finally. “Comfort in distress.”
Cassie smiles. “I like it.”
Once everything is archived and submitted, I sit in on a video call with the aquarium team to finalize the re-release plan for the seal I helped rescue a couple of weeks ago.
Hearing timelines and protocols, watching faces that are quickly becoming familiar nod on screen, feels grounding.
Another small success folded into the day.
By the time I leave, my brain is pleasantly tired.
I make the twenty-minute drive to Newport, walking aisle by aisle through the grocery store, grabbing essentials without rushing. Pasta, eggs, milk, chicken, and a bottle of wine. Enough veggies to cook for a few days, and a few cookies to survive, because balance.
The drive home is quiet. 90s rock hums softly through the speakers, the road stretching out in front of me. The sun is still high, light scattering across the ocean, turning the water silver and blue.
I plan the rest of my evening in my head.
Carry the groceries in. Let Neptune out into the backyard. Shower. Pour a glass of wine. Start the pasta. Make enough for leftovers.
What I don’t plan for is the man kneeling in the dirt outside my house.
He’s bent over the flowerbed near the front, hands deep in the soil, completely focused, planting hydrangeas by my door.