28. Jake
JAKE
If there’s one thing Blue Crab Bay does better than gossip, it’s gratitude.
I step up onto the small wooden platform and look out at the crowd. Chalk lanes are still faintly visible from the Fetch-A-Fish relay. Orange cones lean like they’ve survived battle.
The center of The Green glows like something out of a postcard Blue Crab Bay never got around to making but should’ve. The sun hangs low behind the live oaks, string lights looping overhead between branches, posts and whatever else volunteers could reach with a ladder and a prayer.
The Tail Flickers are tuning up onstage for the last event of the day. The Tail Wag. A night of dancing.
I tap the microphone. It squeals, and Mrs. Kravitz winces but keeps her phone pointed directly at me. “Sorry,” I mutter, adjusting it. “That one’s on me.”
Miss Hattie cups a hand around her mouth. “USER ERROR.”
“Thank you, Miss Hattie.”
“You’re welcome, baby.”
I clear my throat and look back out at the town that’s always been here for me. “I’m gonna keep this short because I know better than to stand between y’all and a party.” That gets a ripple of laughter.
“But I do want to say thank you.”
The breeze catches the edge of the banner behind me.
“Every one of you showed up today and tonight for Big Dog Ranch Rescue,” I continue. “You signed up for events. You donated. You volunteered. You bought more hot dogs than The Salty Dog legally should’ve sold.”
Miss Hattie raises a Solo cup proudly. “Dogs for dogs,” she shouts.
“We raised more money today than we did the last two years combined.” The applause swells fast. “Because of you, a whole lot of dogs are gonna end up with loving homes.”
Cheers break out across The Green. Whistles. Clapping. Somebody yells, “WOO.”
I spot Ryan near the edge of the crowd, hat low, arms crossed, easy grin in place.
Wayne is beside him, already halfway into somebody else’s personal space.
“I also want to thank Ryan Knox and Wayne Kerr for making the trip up from Tampa this weekend and pretending like they don’t have a season starting Monday. ”
The crowd cheers louder than either of them probably expected. Ryan lifts a hand. Wayne bows dramatically, then points toward three separate sections of the crowd like he’s accepting an award.
“Thank you, Blue Crab Bay,” I say, stepping back from the mic. “Let’s do it again next year. Now we party.”
The Tail Flickers launch into the first song, something upbeat and beachy, and the dance floor fills almost immediately.
Wayne is first out there, obviously.
He attempts what I think is a hip swivel, but it looks more like a man fighting an invisible bee.
I’m at the drink table when I see her. Mo’s walking toward me through all the movement and noise, eyes locked on mine.
And damn.
She’s stunning.
The white dress catches every breeze coming off the water, soft against her tan skin, hair down in loose waves. There’s a specific kind of ache that comes with wanting something this badly and still knowing better than to grab too fast.
She stops in front of me. “You’re beautiful,” I say.
Her smile softens immediately, and she glances down. I tip her chin back up gently. “I mean it.” Her eyes hold mine for a few heartbeats.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi.”
I hand over the drink I’d been making for her. “Made you a Salty Dog. But if you want something else, I’ll make whatever you want.”
“A Salty Dog is perfect,” she says, taking the cup. She sips, then closes her eyes for half a second. “Mmm. Okay, yeah. That hits the spot.”
“You were incredible today, Mo. Every event. All of it.”
She wrinkles her nose. “I smelled like fish for six straight hours.”
“You did.”
“Hey! You’re supposed to disagree with that.”
“You were incredible and you smelled like fish. Both things can be true.”
She laughs and takes another sip. “Okay. Fine. Both things are true.”
I take her free hand and press a kiss against her knuckles. When she looks back up at me, she’s smiling and I lean down and kiss her gently, just enough to feel that smile against my mouth before I pull back.
Elizabeth Baskins approaches with her cameraman behind her, microphone already in hand. “Jake,” she says warmly. “Do you have a minute?”
Mo starts easing backward. I tighten my hold on her hand and pull her gently back beside me. “I want you with me,” I say quietly. “Please stay.”
Her eyes flick up to mine. Then she nods.
“Thanks for coming out, Elizabeth,” I say. “I appreciate the spotlight for the rescue.”
The cameraman adjusts focus. The red light clicks on.
“We’re here in Blue Crab Bay,” Elizabeth begins smoothly, “where former Tampa Bay Buccaneers quarterback Jake Wheeler is wrapping up his annual Dog Days of Summer fundraiser benefiting Big Dog Ranch Rescue. Jake, you worked closely with the rescue while you were in Tampa. What made you decide to continue after leaving the NFL?”
I nod past her shoulder. “My reason is trotting this way now.”
Elizabeth and the cameraman turn just as Hank comes lumbering across the dance floor. Somebody scratches behind his ears. Somebody else ties another bandana around his neck. Another offers him a Nylabone he happily accepts.
“This is Hank the Tank,” I say, crouching once he finally reaches us. “My English bulldog. I adopted him from the rescue after I retired.”
Hank sits directly on my foot and blinks into the camera with his bottom teeth sticking out and a Nylabone hanging out the side of his mouth.
“He means the world to me,” I continue, rubbing a hand over his wrinkled head. “And I want to help every dog be somebody’s world.”
Elizabeth smiles. “And the transition from the NFL to life back here… how’s that going? Honestly.”
“I get to quarterback from an armchair now.”
She laughs. “There was a report from the Buccaneers this afternoon that quarterback Kevin Daniels has been placed on IR with a shoulder injury.”
I nod once. I already knew. Ryan got the news earlier while we were getting ready for the dance.
“There are rumors circulating,” Elizabeth continues carefully, “that unnamed sources within the organization say you’ve been approached about stepping in. Can you comment on that?”
Mo’s hand tightens in mine.
“I heard about Daniels,” I say. “My thoughts are with him and his wife, Terry. He’s a hell of a quarterback.”
Elizabeth waits.
“But so is QB2,” I add. “Tampa doesn’t need me.”
“So you haven’t heard from anyone within the Tampa Bay organization?”
“I have not.”
Elizabeth studies me for a beat, then nods. “Thank you, Jake. Congratulations on the fundraiser.”
The red light clicks off.
Mo exhales quietly beside me.
“Thanks, Jake,” Elizabeth says.
“Anytime.”
She and the cameraman move off into the crowd as the Tail Flickers begin another song.
I look down at Mo. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she says. “You?”
“Yeah.”
She searches my face like she’s looking for something I’m not saying.
I squeeze her hand once. “Dance with me.”
Her expression eases. “Okay.”
Mrs. Kravitz is standing at the edge of the dance floor holding her scoring paddle. Earlier she gave Humphrey a two. He hmphed about it for twenty straight minutes.
I take Mo’s hand and lead her onto the dance floor, and for a while, I let the night move around us. Because once Blue Crab Bay gets going, you don’t really attend the party so much as get absorbed by it.
Ryan’s dancing with Elizabeth now, head bent toward her so he can hear whatever she’s saying over the music. She says something that gets a low laugh out of him.
Charlie’s out here dancing with Bethany. They’re easy together. They look like friends who’ve known each other forever and never had to think about it.
Wayne turns away from the drink table and stops dead.
He’s holding his drink perfectly still.
Wayne Kerr is never still.
Somebody calls his name, and his expression resets to factory default sunshine, but I caught it before he did.
The second Charlie steps away from Bethany, Wayne’s there. “Bethany,” he says, holding out a hand. “Dance with me.”
She starts looking around.
“What?” Wayne asks.
“I was looking to see if hell had frozen over.”
“Don’t be like that, Bethany. I’m an excellent dancer.”
“You tripped over a cone tower this morning.”
“That was structural, not rhythmic.”
Bethany eyes his outstretched hand.
Wayne waits her out.
Finally she takes it. “If you step on my feet,” she warns, “I will end you.”
“That is an incredibly romantic thing to say.”
“It wasn’t meant romantically.” But she doesn’t let go of his hand.
Beside them, Lainey’s dancing with Ryan. She’s telling him something with great enthusiasm while they move, and he’s nodding along with the careful concentration of a man trying to keep up.
There’s a woman near the food table I don’t recognize.
Thirties maybe. Dark hair. Charlie ends up beside her, which is how this town works.
You start dancing with the people you know and end up talking to the people you don’t.
By the end of the night, there’s usually not much difference between the two.
I make a mental note to ask Charlie about her later.
Wayne, meanwhile, asks Mrs. Kravitz to dance. This is either very charming or the world’s most elaborate attempt to influence his score. Possibly both. Mrs. Kravitz considers him for a moment before setting down her paddle.
They are, against all logic, excellent together.
Wayne has actual rhythm when he’s not narrating his own athleticism, and Mrs. Kravitz moves like a woman who danced through entire decades and never fully stopped.
When the song ends, she picks her paddle back up and gives herself a ten.
Then Mo stills beside me. “Oh no.”
Wayne is crouched beside Maddy’s scooter. “Miss Donovan,” he says grandly, offering his hand, “may I have this dance?”
Maddy tips her chin up. “You strong enough?”
Wayne presses a hand to his chest. “I’ve waited my whole life for a woman to ask me that.”
He scoops her into his arms like he’s carrying a bride over a threshold. Wayne turns toward the dance floor while almost taking out three people with her cast. “CLEAR A PATH,” he hollers.