Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Emily
The morning light catches on Pinecrest Harbor, turning the water into fragments of silver glass that hurt to stare at too long.
Wednesday’s dawn brought no relief from the endless phone calls that started after Grady’s article was released, so we left Jared with both vehicles in the parking lot at the docks and escaped down the boardwalk.
Beside me, Leif walks with his shoulders squared against the January wind whipping off the water, carrying the scent of salt, fish, and wet wood. His phone buzzes in his pocket again, but he ignores it.
“Sure you’re ready to be out and about again?” I ask as our footsteps echo on the wooden planks of the boardwalk, and with each step, we draw stares.
“I can’t hide forever. I’ve been relying on you too much where Quinn’s concerned.” Leif shoves his hands into his pockets. “And where I’m concerned, too. Sorry I’ve been taking up space in your cottage.”
My lips part, about to tell him he can stay as long as he wants, before I shut my mouth again. Back in October, I would have made the offer without hesitation, but we’re not there anymore.
A newspaper flutters in the hands of a man sitting on a bench, the headline visible even from where we walk: “Pinecrest Academy Administrator on Leave Pending Investigation.” He lowers it as we pass, his eyes lingering on Leif’s cheek where the last yellowish traces of bruising peek through concealer.
My muscles coil with the instinct to step half a pace forward, to put my body between Leif and the stares. My fingers curl at my sides before I relax them as I force myself to stay where I am.
“Morning!” Martha Chen, who runs the bait and tackle shop at the pier’s edge, waves at us from her doorway. Her dark hair whips in the wind as she approaches, her focus on Leif rather than me. “How are you holding up?”
News travels fast in Pinecrest, especially when it involves the private academy where half the town’s children attend.
“Taking it one day at a time,” Leif answers, keeping his head turned to hide most of the bruising. “Thank you for asking.”
Martha studies him with kindness instead of pity. “My nephew is in Quinn’s class. Says her service dog is so sweet. He’s been begging his mom for a dog of his own.”
“Sprinkles is a wonderful dog. He went through a lot of training to stay by her side,” Leif says, his posture relaxing at the mention of Quinn.
“That’s good.” Martha’s eyes flick between us. “Well, you let us know if you need anything. Us Cresters need to stand together.”
A group of teenagers huddles near the railing twenty feet ahead, heads bent together over a phone. One points in our direction, another’s whisper sends nervous laughter through the group. They scatter as we approach, casting furtive peeks over their shoulders.
My fingers twitch at my side, and I roll my shoulders back, keeping my stance open and unthreatening. This isn’t my battle to fight.
“They’re just curious,” he murmurs without turning his head.
The wind carries the scent of fresh bread from the bakery at the end of the boardwalk, mingling with the brine of the harbor. A fishing boat chugs toward the open water, its engine puttering as seagulls wheel overhead, their cries piercing through the morning quiet.
“Ms. Wilson!” A man in a paint-splattered coverall calls from where he’s touching up the trim on the harbor master’s office. “You still coming to fix the support beam at the community center on Saturday?”
“I’ll be there first thing in the morning,” I reply, grateful for the normalcy of the question.
He taps his brush on the lip of the paint can, droplets of white splattering on the plastic tarp below. “You can bring your friend, if he wants to lend a hand. We got coffee and donuts for volunteers.”
I look at Leif, one brow raised.
“I appreciate the invitation,” he says. “I might stop by after Quinn’s morning session.”
The harbor opens wider as we approach its mouth, the channel to the ocean framed by hills dusted with evergreens.
The morning sun burns through patches of fog, illuminating boats tied to their moorings.
Their hulls knock into the dock with each swell, the hollow percussion marking the rhythm of harbor life.
We reach the end of the boardwalk, where the wooden planks give way to a small viewing platform. Below us, waves crash against the rocks, sending sprays of white foam into the air. The cold cuts deeper here with nothing to block the wind, but neither of us suggests turning back.
“I really messed up, didn’t I?” Leif says, the words almost lost to the sounds of the harbor.
“You did what you thought was needed to protect yourself,” I answer. “No one faults you for that.”
He bows his head. “But I still messed us up.”
I draw in a shaky breath of salt-filled air, and it’s as if Jared is here with me, lending me strength.
“Yeah, you messed us up. I wish I could say different, wish we could go back to that day in your hotel room. I really do. I understand your actions, but it doesn’t change how I can’t trust you anymore. ”
Leif flinches as if I struck him.
For a long moment, he says nothing. The harbor stretches out in front of us, gray water rolling toward the open ocean.
“I thought you’d say that,” he says at last. “I messed up with Jared, too. But hearing it out loud still…” His breath leaves him in a thin cloud. “Still hurts more than I expected.”
My chest tightens with the urge to comfort him, but I keep my focus fixed on the tide as it drags foam back from the rocks below us. “I’m not angry with you. I understand why you did what you did. But trust can’t always be reasoned around.”
“I know.” His hands tighten in his pockets.
“Every time you said you’d protect me, every time Jared promised the same…
I believed you would try. I just didn’t believe Carson would let it happen.
I thought he’d find some way to hurt you, too.
And I couldn’t bear to be the reason your lives were ruined. ”
His honesty cuts deeper than excuses ever could.
Leif drags a hand through his hair, staring down at the churning water below the platform. “So this is it then.”
My throat tightens. “What do you mean?”
He swallows hard before looking at me. “I don’t expect things to go back to how they were. I don’t deserve that.” He searches my face as he braces for the worst. “But… can we still be friends?”
Part of me wants to say no.
It would be easier.
Cleaner.
If I walked away now, if I cut the tie, there would be no long months of awkward dinners or careful conversations where every word has to be weighed against what used to exist between us.
But the thought of reverting to a casual acquaintance with Leif again claws at my heart, leaving me breathless and hollow inside.
I draw in a long breath, watching it bloom into a little cloud that drifts away on the bitter air.
“Saturday dinners are still a thing,” I say, my cheeks stinging where the frost clings. “You’re always welcome at the cottage.”
Relief pools in his eyes, almost too painful to bear. “Thank you.”
We linger there, the wind tugging at our coats and carrying the tang of seaweed and salt spray from the rocks below, while the distant cries of gulls fill the silence.
“Can I ask something else?” he asks tentatively.
I already know what he’s about to say before the words even form.
“What about Wednesdays?”
The question rips open every ache I’ve been trying to ignore.
Wednesday mornings, alone with just the two of us in the workshop, where I first began to feel the flutter behind my ribs and believed we could be more.
I stare out at the harbor, watching a buoy dip and rise with the slow pull of the tide. “Leif…”
He hurries to fill the silence. “I understand things can’t be the same. I just thought— If we kept working on projects together…” His words trail off on a shudder of breath.
My chest tightens. This is the half-step that would drag us back into something neither of us is ready for.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I force the words past the lump growing in my throat. “Not right now.”
The hope drains from him, like air escaping a punctured sail. “Right.”
“I’m not saying never,” I add, because the thought of never teaching him again is a knife to my soul. “But the shop… that was special. And right now, I need some distance from that.”
He accepts this with sorrow. “I understand.”
A gust of wind carries the tang of frost and seaweed over us, the harbor restless under a steely sky.
After a moment, he pulls back his shoulders. “I’m going to fix this.”
I turn to him, surprised by the quiet strength in his tone.
“I realize I broke something important between us,” he continues, thick with regret. “And apologizing alone won’t mend it. But I’m not giving up on earning your trust back. Yours and Jared’s.”
My stomach twists, hurt and sadness swelling in my chest until it feels like it might rupture my ribs if I don’t let it out.
“You don’t have to wait for me,” he rushes on. “I’m not asking you to. I just… needed you to know that.”
I study him through the salt spray dancing in the air. The swelling has subsided, but the faint bruise under his concealer is still there as a mark of what he endured. It’s nothing compared to the raw vulnerability shining in his eyes, though.
“I can’t promise anything,” I choke out.
“That’s okay.”
“But you’re still welcome at the cottage.”
A fragile ghost of a smile touches his lips. “That’s more than I deserve.”
Below us, the waves continue to crash while we stand side by side, the wind tugging at our coats as the water taxi comes into view on the horizon.
We’re not together.
Maybe we never really were.
But we’re not entirely apart, either.
The wind shifts, colder now, pushing fog in from the open water until it blurs the edges of the world.
“We should head down to the dock,” I say, rubbing numb fingers against my palm. “My crew will be arriving soon, and so will Quinn. I’m sure she’s been missing you.”
Leif nods, but neither of us moves right away. The water taxi’s horn sounds again, closing the distance fast.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“For what?”
“For not shutting the door completely.”
I meet his gaze. “I meant what I said. Saturday dinners are still happening.”
A faint smile warms his features. “I’ll bring dessert.”
“That sounds like a bribe.”
“Maybe it is.”
For a moment, the old rhythm slips back between us, familiar and easy.
Then it fades again, leaving the space between us wider than it used to be.
We start back down the boardwalk together, the harbor stretching gray and restless beside us. People’s heads still turn as we pass, whispers trailing in our wake, but Leif keeps his shoulders straight, facing forward.
At the dock entrance, we head down the ramp toward the parking lot, where my old truck rests beside Leif’s sedan. Jared leans on the railing, silhouetted by the churning water behind him.
My steps slow. “Your cabin will be ready for move-in by the end of the week.”
Which means he’ll have no excuse to continue to stay at the cottage.
He stiffens, a wince crossing his features, but he puts on a brave front. “It will be good to live on the island, closer to Quinn.”
On the island, and that much further out of reach. My heart aches all over again. “Yeah.”
Jared turns, spots us, and lifts a hand in greeting.
I turn to Leif. “Well, have a good day.”
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You, too, Em.”
He hesitates, then offers a small wave before stepping toward the dock and the incoming water taxi.
As he walks away, his coat snapping in the wind as he heads down the dock to greet Quinn, I almost call him back.
The impulse is so strong that my fingernails dig into my palm.
The wind carries the sound of Quinn’s excited shout down the dock when she spots Leif, pulling him those last few steps.
I turn away, letting him go.
This isn’t goodbye.
But it is the end of what we had.
Whether we ever build something new from the pieces…
Only time will tell.