35. Aj
Iwake up alone.
The bed is cold where he was lying, the blankets tangled around my legs while steady rain taps softly against the porthole. The storm finally broke sometime during the night.
For the first time in months…
I’m going home.
The thought should make me happy.
It should feel relieving after everything that happened. I should be counting down the seconds until I’m back in Chicago with my family, where things will be normal again.
But the second the thought settles, another follows right behind it.
What if nothing feels normal anymore?
My stomach twists.
I sit up slowly, my body aching in ways that make heat creep into my cheeks. Shame and desire fighting for dominance inside me. Every movement reminds me of last night. I close my eyes, pressing my hand against my throat, remembering his hand wrapped around my neck.
Something flutters in my chest.
It felt…real.
The way he touched me.
The way he looked at me.
The way he kissed me like he couldn’t stop himself.
The way he opened up about his brother.
He actually told me something real about himself. The memory makes something warm and hopeful bloom within my chest.
The bathroom door stands slightly open, steam still clinging to the mirror inside.
I stare at it for a second too long.
Then I grab his shirt off the floor and pull it over my head before slipping out of bed. My legs wobble slightly when I stand, my body achy and sore as I cross the small cabin and lean against the bathroom doorway.
The smell of soap and clean water fills the space.
Wolff stands in front of the mirror with a towel hanging low around his hips, dark hair dripping water down the hard lines of his chest and stomach before disappearing beneath the fabric. His shoulders tense slightly the second he notices me in the reflection.
His green eyes meet mine.
For a second, neither of us speaks.
The air between us still feels heavy. Intimate in a way that makes my pulse stutter.
I don’t know what we are now.
If we’re anything at all.
“Get dressed,” he says finally. “We dock in an hour.”
The warmth in my chest falters.
He turns away from the mirror, grabbing his clothes from the counter before pulling them on without looking at me again. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to ignore the sinking feeling spreading through my ribs.
“Are we going to eat breakfast?”
Nothing.
Not even a glance.
Right. Of course not. Back to cold, distant Wolff.
I look down at the wedding ring still wrapped around my finger. Last night, he kissed me and held me through the storm like he didn’t want to let go.
Now, it feels like I imagined the entire thing.
I force myself to move, grabbing my clothes from the chair and pulling on jeans and a sweater while the silence stretches painfully between us.
When I look up again, he’s fully dressed and sitting in the chair by the door, staring at his phone with that same unreadable expression back on his face.
Something in my chest clenches at the sight.
I shove my feet into my boots and walk toward him.
“Wolff?”
He doesn’t look up, his thumb scrolling across the screen. My fingers twist around the gold band on my hand.
“You know,” I say, trying to force some lightness into my voice, “husbands usually say good morning to their wives.”
He stands so abruptly that it startles me. Shoving the phone into his pocket, he grabs the duffel from the floor and heads for the door.
“Let’s go.”
That ache in my chest sharpens into something worse.
I follow him out into the hallway anyway, chewing hard on the inside of my cheek while we walk toward the deck.
I don’t understand him. Last night felt real.
Didn’t it?
I wish I knew what he was thinking. Why he’s back to being…this.
The smell of saltwater hits me the second we step onto the deck, the breeze warmer than it’s been in days. In the distance, a sprawling harbor comes into view—cargo ships, cranes, rows of industrial buildings, and beyond that, the skyline of the city rising along the coast.
My fingers tighten around the cold railing while the ship cuts slowly through the water toward the docks.
Wolff stands beside me in silence.
I glance at him, trying to read something—anything—from his face, but he’s locked down again. Eyes scanning constantly. His attention never staying in one place for more than a second.
Swallowing hard, I look back out at the water.
“So what happens when we get off the ship? Do we just…” The words die in my throat when I realize he isn’t listening. “Wolff.” I take a slow breath, trying to steady myself. “Can you just talk to me? Please? You can’t just—”
The ship horn blasts loudly enough to shake the deck beneath us. I jump at the sound, heart lurching into my throat.
Wolff doesn’t even flinch.
The harbor grows closer.
People crowd the railings now, bags in hand, voices overlapping as everyone pushes to get a better look at the shoreline. The energy around us shifts instantly—relief, excitement, impatience.
I’m closer to home…and maybe once we’re back in Chicago, things can be…different.
Real.
The thought blooms fragile hope inside my chest.
I glance up at him again, searching desperately for some crack in the walls he slammed back into place this morning. But he just stares ahead at the harbor, unreadable and distant.
The ship slows as we near the dock. Thick ropes are thrown onto the pier while crew members shout over the noise. Passengers start moving toward the gangway. My fingers tighten harder around the railing while I stare down at the crowd gathered below.
And then—my breath catches.
“Oh my god.”
My heart stops.
“Gage?” I rasp. “Dad?”
I lean forward so fast my hands slip on the railing, trying to see through the crowd below.
My dad stands near the front of the pier, posture rigid even from this distance, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. Beside him, Gage, my twin, scans the crowd, his face half-hidden under a beanie.
The world blurs instantly.
I don’t even remember moving.
One second, I’m standing beside Wolff.
The next, I’m sprinting.
People curse as I shove past them, boots pounding against the deck while tears blur my eyes until I can barely see.
“AJ!” Gage shouts.
His face changes instantly—the panic, the exhaustion, all of it cracking apart so fast it nearly destroys me. I barely make it down the gangway before he reaches me first. His arms slam around me, knocking the air out of my lungs as he lifts me completely off the ground.
A sob tears from my chest as I cling to him, arms wrapping around his neck while I bury my face against his shoulder and break apart. I squeeze my eyes shut as I breathe him in, his familiar scent flooding me—like home. Like safety.
“Jesus Christ, AJ,” he chokes out.
I can’t stop crying.
I can’t breathe around it.
Months of fear and pain and exhaustion release from me all at once while I cling to him like letting go might somehow make this disappear. Then my dad’s strong arms wrap around both of us.
“Oh, honey…” His voice breaks completely.
I make this awful, broken sound and grab onto him too, my entire body shaking while he pulls me against his chest and holds me so tightly I can barely breathe.
“We’re here,” he whispers shakily into my hair. “You’re okay now. We’ve got you.”
I thought I was never going to hear his voice again.
“I thought…” My breath catches. “I thought I was never gonna see you again.”
Gage’s arms tighten more around me. And standing there between them, crushed between familiar voices and shaking hands and people who love me—
For the first time in months, I finally let myself believe I survived.