11. Jace
Jace
I wake before the sun fully hits the windows, the couch cushions doing their usual number on my back.
But I don’t move right away. Instead I replay last night for the tenth time.
The navy dress. The quick brush of her lips on my cheek when we got home, soft and unexpected and enough to short-circuit every professional boundary I have left.
She pulled away fast, but the look in her eyes before she closed the bedroom door told me she felt it too.
The rules she set on that porch in Halo City are fraying at the edges, and I’m the one holding the thread, waiting to see if she lets it unravel.
Then I think about the screen door. I know I latched it. I told Sadie it was probably the wind, but I don’t think so. In fact, I know so.
The safe house is quiet except for the sound of waves rolling in beyond the dunes.
I push up, roll my shoulders, and head for the coffee maker.
While it brews I stand at the window and watch the ocean turn from gray to blue under the morning light.
Sunbreak Harbor looks peaceful from here.
The lighthouse stands tall on the point, the boardwalk already starting to fill with early joggers.
But peace is an illusion. My brothers and I have been chasing leads on Dad's disappearance for months.
Every thread we pull leads somewhere new.
This town feels as if it might be the knot that ties them all together.
And now Sadie is tangled in it because of her sister's trouble. I’m supposed to protect her and dig for answers.
Not fall for the stubborn, serious, secretly soft woman who kisses my cheek with a tenderness she tries so hard to hide.
The bedroom door opens behind me. I turn and there she is, hair loose around her shoulders, wearing a simple white top and jeans, and every thought I had disappears. She meets my eyes and for a second neither of us says anything. The air between us carries the weight of last night.
"Morning," she says, voice a little rough from sleep. She crosses to the counter and pours herself coffee like this is normal. As if we do this every day.
"Morning." I lean against the counter next to her, close enough that our arms brush. "Sleep okay?"
She takes a sip and gives me that romcom-serious look, the one that says she’s trying not to smile. "Better than the drive up here. The couch seems to be treating you well enough."
I grin, the charming one I know gets under her skin in the best way. "It’s got its perks. One of them being between you and the door. And the view from the living room isn’t that bad either."
Her cheeks color the faintest pink. She looks out the window instead of at me.
"We should talk about today. The dinner gave us an opening with Victor's restaurant. If he’s as connected as everyone says, the bartender might know something about new faces or unusual activity at the marina. We need to scope it out."
I nod, shifting into work mode even as my eyes trace the line of her jaw. "Agreed. Casual recon. Ask questions without making noise. I was thinking we hit it around lunch when it’s busy enough to blend."
Sadie turns to face me fully. Her expression is serious but there’s a spark underneath, the same one that came out when she charmed Melissa and Brooke on the beach.
"What if we invite Brooke and Melissa. Make it look like a group thing.
Four people out for drinks and lunch. Less suspicious than the two of us asking pointed questions. "
I consider it. Part of me wants her to myself, wants to see where the tension from last night goes if we’re alone. But she’s right. The cover works better with numbers. And the conversation gives Sadie a chance to uncover more about Victor while keeping everything casual.
"Good call," I say. "Text them. See if they’re free. We can meet at the marina around noon."
She pulls out her phone and starts typing.
While she does I watch her, the way her fingers move, the small furrow between her brows when she concentrates.
Last night at the club the other couples looked at us with envy.
The banter, the touches, the way we fit.
It wasn’t all pretend for me. And from the way she kissed my cheek, I’m starting to think it wasn’t all pretend for her either.
We spend the morning going over what we know.
I tell her a little more about the Hawthorne search without dumping the whole family history on her.
She listens, asks smart questions about my brothers, about why we think Sunbreak Harbor matters.
The conversation feels easy. When her phone buzzes with replies from the women, she smiles.
"They’re in. Brooke said Melissa is always up for a reason to go to the marina. Something about the view."
I raise an eyebrow. "The view or the bartenders?"
Sadie laughs, the sound light and real. "Probably both. But it gives us cover."
By the time we pull into the marina parking lot the sun is high and hot on the back of my neck.
The Jeep's top is down and the wind’s been whipping through the cabin the whole drive.
Sadie sits with her hair tied back, one hand resting on the console between us, quietly closing a gap I didn’t realize was there.
I park near the docks and we walk toward the restaurant.
It’s all glass and dark wood, modern lines that stand out against the older buildings around it.
Yachts bob in their slips beyond the outdoor seating area.
People in bright summer clothes move along the boardwalk.
The sound of water lapping against hulls mixes with distant laughter and the soft thump of music from somewhere down the row.
Brooke and Melissa are already at a high-top table on the patio when we arrive. Melissa waves us over with a bright smile. She’s dressed in something short and tight, sunglasses pushed up into her hair. Brooke looks more relaxed in a sundress, but her eyes are sharp as she watches us approach.
I keep my arm around Sadie's waist because the cover demands it and because I want the excuse. The feel of her warm through the thin fabric of her top sends the usual spark through me. I keep my hand there as we reach the table.
"Ladies," I say with the easy charm that usually disarms people. "Thanks for making time. This place looks like it’s trying too hard to be cool."
Melissa laughs and leans forward, already scanning the bar inside. "It’s the new hot spot. Victor spent a fortune on it. The bartenders are easy on the eyes too."
We order a round of drinks and some appetizers. The conversation starts light. Regattas coming up, the latest gossip from the club. I keep one eye on Sadie, the way she steers the talk toward Victor without forcing it.
"So this Victor," she says to Brooke after a while. "Everyone keeps mentioning him as if he runs the town from behind the scenes. What’s his deal exactly?"
Brooke opens her mouth but Melissa is already sliding off her stool. "I’m going to get us another round. The bartender today is the cute one."
She saunters inside, hips swaying, and plants herself at the bar.
Within seconds she’s leaning over the counter, laughing too loud, touching the young guy's arm every time he says something.
The flirting is obvious and loud. I exchange a glance with Sadie.
She raises an eyebrow in that easy way that says she sees it too.
Brooke watches her friend for a moment then turns back to us. Her voice drops a little. "Melissa has... an open arrangement with her marriage. Tom knows. Or at least he pretends not to know. She sleeps around. It’s not exactly a secret around here."
Sadie keeps her expression neutral but I can feel the shift in her posture under my hand. She’s processing, filing it away. "And Victor?" she asks carefully. "Is he part of that arrangement?"
Brooke hesitates, then nods once. "There are rumors. She’s been seen with him a few times.
Late nights at the club, that kind of thing.
But Victor is older. Sixties, maybe. Salt and pepper, still handsome in that distinguished way.
He craves the attention. And Melissa likes the power that comes with it. "
Sadie leans in, voice casual but I know she’s pressing. "What else do you know about him? Does he have family? Any kids? Business partners who come through town?"
Brooke shrugs and sips her drink. "He keeps his personal life private. No wife that anyone has met. Some people say he was married once a long time ago but it ended badly. He has money from old investments or something. The restaurant is his new toy. He comes in most afternoons to check on things."
I’m about to ask a follow-up when movement inside catches my eye. Melissa’s still at the bar but she has turned, pointing toward the back of the restaurant. Brooke follows her gaze and her face lights up.
"Oh, speak of the devil," Brooke says, lifting her chin. "There he is over there by the window. The older man in the blue shirt talking to the manager."
I turn.
The world narrows to a single point.
The man standing near the large window overlooking the docks has his back mostly to us, but he shifts slightly as the manager gestures toward something on a tablet.
Salt-and-pepper hair. Broad shoulders that haven’t stooped with age.
The way he stands with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass, thumb tapping the rim in a rhythm I’ve seen a thousand times in old videos and faded photos.
Every muscle in my body goes taut.
I know that profile. I know the line of that jaw, the set of those shoulders. I spent my whole life looking for echoes of it in my own mirror and in my brothers' faces.
It’s my father.
Victor isn’t some local businessman with secrets.
It’s him.
He’s alive. He’s here. In Sunbreak Harbor. Running a restaurant as if he never faked his own death, as if my brothers and I haven’t been tearing apart every lead for months trying to find him.
The sound of the marina fades. The laughter from the table, the clink of ice in glasses, the distant music, all of it goes muffled like I’m underwater.
My hand tightens on Sadie's waist without meaning to. She glances up at me, concern flickering across her face, but I can’t look away from the man by the window.
He turns a fraction more. Enough for me to see the familiar profile in full. The same eyes. The same mouth that used to laugh at our terrible jokes when we were kids.
Everything I thought I knew about this assignment, about the search, about why we’re really here, cracked wide open.
And Sadie’s still pressed against my side, warm and real and completely unaware that the man we’ve been asking about all afternoon is the ghost I’ve been chasing for months.