Chapter Seventeen
Anson
I left reluctantly. I told Dad that I would bring the boat back tonight. If I stayed any longer, I knew I would end up picking her up and carrying her back inside her RV. I would push all those paintings aside, strip her down, and see just how feisty she could get. And even though I’m pretty sure she would have let me, I know she isn’t ready. When we finally do give in to whatever this is between us, I don’t want her to have any regrets.
I back the trailer into the gate and get out to unhitch it from my truck. The floodlights on the corner of the house blink on, and Mom appears at the back door.
The trailer hitch groans as I wrestle with the coupler, trying to free Dad’s boat. My hands are slick with sweat, the night still hot despite the sun going down hours ago. I curse under my breath, wiping my hands on my jeans.
“How was the water?” Mom asks, stepping down onto the porch.
I glance over my shoulder. She’s got a glass of sweet tea in her hand, the ice clinking as she takes a sip. She’s wearing her housecoat. Her gray-streaked hair is pulled into a loose braid over one shoulder, her expression soft but knowing, like always.
“It was good,” I say, returning my focus to the trailer hitch. “Took the boat out to the old lighthouse.”
Mom hums while leaning against the railing. “By yourself?” she asks innocently, as if Dad didn’t inform her the instant I drove away this morning.
“No,” I say. “Took Tabby.”
She makes a sound—something between interest and amusement. “Tabby, huh?”
I sigh, already regretting this conversation. “Yeah.”
Mom doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches me struggle with the hitch before stepping down onto the grass. She sets her tea on the railing and crosses her arms, tilting her head like she’s studying me.
“You like this girl,” she says finally.
It’s not a question.
I shake my head, more to myself than to her. “Yeah, I do.”
She chuckles. “That’s a first.”
I glance at her, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She just smiles, reaching over to wipe some grease off my cheek, her touch gentle but firm.
“Please,” she says, “you know you’re not really known for being the relationship type.”
I open my mouth to argue, but she raises a brow, daring me to try. I don’t. She’s right. I don’t do relationships. Never have. Girls come and go, and that’s always been fine with me.
Until now.
I swallow hard, looking down at my feet. “It’s different with her,” I admit. “I don’t know why, but it is.”
Mom nods, like she already knew that. “Tell me more about her.”
I hesitate. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t even know where to start. Tabby is … she’s different. Not just from other girls I’ve been with, but from anyone I’ve ever met. She’s got this way about her, like she belongs anywhere and nowhere at the same time. She’s sharp but kind, guarded but open in a way that makes you want to know every part of her.
“She’s … complicated,” I say finally. “But not in a bad way. She’s just got layers, you know?”
Mom smiles. “And you want to peel them back.”
I nod, exhaling through my nose. “Yeah.”
Something shifts in her expression, something soft and understanding. She reaches up, brushing my hair back the way she used to when I was younger. “That’s not a bad thing, you know,” she says. “Caring about someone.”
“I know it’s not.”
“Do you?” she asks.
I meet her gaze, and for the first time, I let myself be honest. “It scares me.”
Mom sighs, her hand dropping to her side. “Love does that,” she says. “But it’s worth it.”
I shake my head. “Whoa. I didn’t say anything about love, Mom.”
She chuckles, picking up her tea again. “Maybe not yet,” she says. “But you don’t have to be afraid of what it could be. Just let what happens happen.”
I look away, staring out at the tree line. The idea of letting things happen—of not fighting it—feels foreign to me. But at the same time, the thought of pushing Tabby away doesn’t sit right either.
Mom watches me for a breath, then takes a sip of her tea. “Invite her over for dinner,” she says casually.
I blink. “What?”
She smirks. “I’d like to meet her. Invite her for dinner with me and your father.”
I rub the back of my neck. “I don’t know—”
“Anson.”
I sigh.
“Just think about it,” she says, giving my arm a squeeze before heading back toward the house.
I watch her go, her words lingering in my head.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I can just see where this goes without worrying about labeling it.
Maybe, for the first time, I actually want to.
I headed home after I got the trailer loose and the boat covered. Now, I’m lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, willing sleep to take over. It doesn’t. It won’t. My body’s exhausted, my muscles sore from hauling the boat, fighting the current, climbing the stairs in the lighthouse, and spending hours under the sun. But my mind? My mind is wide awake, replaying the day over and over.
Tabby’s laugh, the way the wind caught her hair, the teasing smirk she threw over her shoulder as she leaned against the bow of the boat. I can still smell the salt in the air, the hint of coconut and the faintest trace of sunscreen on her skin when she sat close to me. Too close. Not close enough.
I exhale sharply, shifting onto my side. The clock on the nightstand glows past midnight. I should just shut my eyes and let it go. But I don’t.
Instead, I reach for my phone.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. I’m not even sure what I want to say, but the urge to talk to her is stronger than the voice in my head telling me to just go to sleep. So, I go for something simple.
Me: Just wanted to say good night.
I hit Send, then drop the phone on my chest. The screen glows against the dark, and I stare at it, waiting.
Three dots appear almost instantly.
I smirk. Good, she’s awake.
Tabby: It’s late. You should be sleeping.
I huff a quiet laugh, fingers already moving.
Me: I would be if you weren’t in my head.
Tabby: That so?
Me: Hard to sleep when I can still hear you laughing. Still feel you next to me.
There’s a pause. Long enough that I start wondering if I went too far. But then …
Tabby: Good to know I left an impression.
I grin.
Me: You have no idea.
She doesn’t answer right away, and my heart starts doing this stupid, restless thing in my chest. I tap my fingers against my stomach, waiting.
Then, her name pops up again.
Tabby: You’re lying in bed, thinking about me, huh?
Me: Yeah.
Tabby: What exactly are you thinking about?
The shift is subtle but unmistakable. My body reacts before my brain can catch up, heat spreading through my chest, my gut.
I lick my lips, debating for half a second before deciding there’s no point in playing coy.
Me: How soft your skin looked in the sun today. How it would feel under my hands.
I send it before I can second-guess myself. The dots appear immediately.
Tabby: Go on.
I groan. Those two words sending a rush of something sharp and electric through me.
Me: Your turn. If I was next to you right now, what would you do?
She takes longer to answer this time. I stare at the screen, my pulse drumming in my ears. When her reply finally comes, my breath catches.
Tabby: I don’t know. I might have to see what all that talk was about.
Me: What talk?
Tabby: Just how good you are at charming the pants off a girl.
Geezus.
I sit up, running a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the full-body reaction I’m having to her words.
Me: And what if I wanted to touch you?
Tabby: Then, I’d have to decide whether or not to let you.
Me: And would you?
Her answer is immediate.
Tabby: Depends on how good you are at convincing me.
I exhale slowly, leaning my head back against the headboard. This girl is going to be the death of me.
Me: I’d start slow. Make sure you were good and comfortable. Maybe let my fingers trace up your arm, just to see how you reacted.
A pause.
Tabby: And if I didn’t stop you?
My grip tightens on the phone.
Me: Then, I’d keep going. Down your back. Over your hips. My hands on your bare skin.
Her reply comes faster than I expected.
Tabby: That’s quite the imagination you’ve got.
Me: You have no idea.
Tabby: What next?
Me: I’d replace my fingers with my mouth. Kiss every inch of you.
She doesn’t answer right away, and I wonder if I pushed too far. But then …
Tabby: And what if I wanted to return the favor?
Fuck me.
I shut my eyes for a second, my pulse hammering. I can practically hear her voice, low and teasing, see the wicked glint in her eye.
Me: I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me.
Her reply comes almost instantly.
Tabby: That’s dangerous thinking, Anson. I’m a very creative girl.
I smirk.
Me: I like danger.
She sends back nothing but a winking emoji.
I groan, letting my head fall back, trying to pull air into my lungs. This girl. This damn girl.
I could keep this going all night, but I know if I do, I’ll never get to sleep, and we have four charters tomorrow.
Me: You should get some rest.
Tabby: You should take your own advice.
I grin, shaking my head.
Me: Good night, Trouble.
Tabby: Good night, Anson.
I set my phone on the nightstand and exhale, running a hand over my face. That wasn’t the best idea. I’m more worked up now than I was before.
But I don’t think I mind.