Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
The sand was still being kicked up in the direction Captain Walker had gone—Russ could clearly hear the man’s footsteps—but the old captain himself was out of sight now.
Just a dark silhouette moving back toward the firelight of the beach.
He hadn’t said another word. He'd just stared at them, long and hard, huffed, and turned on his heels.
Russ exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest refusing to loosen.
Beside him, Tessa wiped her face with both hands, swiping at her cheeks like she could erase the emotion. Her shoulders hunched forward, breath catching as if she were holding back the last of the tears.
“I messed everything up,” she whispered. He heard the pain in her voice.
Russ turned to face her, jaw clenched, heart still thrumming from the crash of adrenaline. “No, you didn’t, baby. You didn’t. ”
“Yes, I did.” Her voice cracked. “You could lose your job now, because of me.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice but not softening his resolve. “Listen to me. This isn’t your fault, Tessa.”
“But I kissed you first. I made you come out here. I?—”
She was spiraling. He could see it. He took her face, gently, in both hands, and tried to stop the flood of guilt. “Tess’. Look at me.”
He met her eyes reluctantly, slowly, seeing her lashes damp, catching the faint glimmer of moonlight. His chest felt tight.
“I knew the rules. I made the choice. I’m the captain here.
” His voice was low but steady, though he felt a faint tremor beneath the surface, like the echo of distant thunder beyond the beach.
“This was my call, and I would make it again. This is on me, and I’ll take care of it.
You don’t have to worry about any of it. Do you understand me?”
“But—” she protested, her voice soft, catching. The humid air pressed in around him, wrapping him in a suffocating warmth.
“I’ll fix it,” he said. His voice didn’t waver. He didn’t know exactly how yet, but he meant it. For her, he’d figure it out. He would fix this.
She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded, barely.
Russ bent and kissed her—slow and sure, grounding her, grounding himself. Reminding her what she meant to him, despite the fact that they’d be ending this tomorrow when she left. Because this didn’t change anything between them. She still meant so much to him.
But why—oh, why did she have to leave tomorrow?
Her arms came around him, pulling him close like she didn’t want to let go. He held her there for a long time, then pressed a kiss to the side of her head, breathing her in, letting her warmth and sadness and strength settle into his bones.
Then he pulled back, slowly.
“We need to head back.” He wasn’t looking forward to the looks or the judgment or the worry he’d find on the faces of the various people out there, but he might as well not make the situation any worse.
If Walker didn’t spread this around, he might have a fighting chance at saving his dignity.
His livelihood. He needed to show the man he wasn’t afraid. Wasn’t ashamed.
Tessa nodded again, lips pressed together, this time in certainty. She was strong, and she was there for him.
He took her hand, linked his fingers firmly with hers. Stopped and gazed at her. “We’ll be fine, okay? I promise.”
She searched his face before she nodded. “Okay.”
Together, they stepped out of the shadows beneath the towering palms, walking toward the bar where tiki torches still flickered and music still drifted on the breeze as if nothing had happened.
But as soon as they were in view of the tables and the dance floor and all the people they both knew, Russ dropped her hand, letting his own fall to his side as if they’d done nothing but taken an evening stroll.
He couldn’t touch her again—not here. He didn’t reach for her. Didn’t let his eyes linger longer than what was strictly professional.
But when he glanced toward the far table, where Walker now sat with a group of other captains, their eyes met for a long moment.
What was the man going to do with the knowledge he’d just acquired? Russ’ gut still swarmed with worry.
Tessa smoothed her skirt and took one steadying breath.
She was done crying. Done shaking. She’d cried into his chest like the world was ending, and maybe a part of it was—but he’d held her strong and steady. Told her he’d fix it. That it wasn’t her fault.
But it was bigger than her now. Bigger than a kiss among the trees. Bigger than butterflies and stars and moonlight. He could lose his job. He was willing to face that for her, and the least she could do was not make it any harder.
So she held her chin a little higher as she walked back across the sand, forced a nonchalant smile, letting the sound of the music and laughter fill her ears as the firelight pulled her back in. A beachside party in paradise. Her thirtieth birthday.
She was going to remember this night for the rest of her life. No matter what happened. She glanced at Russ as he walked off. He glanced back, and she gave him a nod—she’d be okay.
The girls were on the dance floor again, moving under the lantern lights like nothing had changed, the air thick with the scent of salt, rum, and coconut. As Tessa reached them, Jenna glanced up and immediately grinned.
“There you are!” she said. “We were about to send out a search party.”
“Where’d you sneak off to?” Avery asked, pulling her hair back from her damp neck.
Tessa gave them a small, easy smile. No need to tell them now. She might fall apart if she did. “Nowhere, really. Just… checking out the stars for a few minutes.” She paused. “It’s not every day you turn thirty in Tahiti.”
Jenna bumped her shoulder affectionately. “You’re such a sap. But we love you for it, Tess’.” She moved in close for a side-to-side dance, and Tessa did her best to play along as if everything was perfectly fine.
Jenna grinned. “We sure do. Happy birthday, sweetie.”
Tessa smiled again—smaller this time, but genuine. It wasn’t exactly a lie. She had been looking at the stars. Just not the way they thought.
Marin shot her a look as Kyle and Drew and Nate came out on the dance floor and started up with their exaggerated, purposely funny dance moves.
Minutes later, Drew called out to Avery and pointed to the beach—something about finding the perfect marshmallow stick. The group began to drift, her friends pulling away toward the bonfire and the scattered laughter ahead.
But Marin stayed .
Tessa felt her beside her before she heard her voice.
“You okay?” Marin asked quietly.
Tessa blinked once, quickly. Marin had seen them return. Of course she had. She saw everything.
“You and Captain Hotstuff. You sneak off into the trees with him?”
Tessa looked at her and gave the tiniest nod, her throat tightening.
Marin studied her face. “Something happen?”
Tessa reached out, took her best friend’s hand, and gave it a small squeeze. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. So instead, she just nodded again—one firm, silent answer—and looked down at the sand.
Marin didn’t push. She just watched her for a second longer, then slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a quick, fierce squeeze.
“Come on,” she said gently. “I heard something about marshmallows over there.”
Tessa nodded again, but she wouldn’t cry. She’d be strong. For him.
The sound of laughter and the dull thud of beanbags hitting wooden boards still echoed faintly from the beach as Malik’s dinghy pulled away with the girls.
The guys were staying behind for one last round of corn hole, and Tessa could just barely make out Russ’s silhouette by torchlight, shoulders squared as he got pulled onto a team by Drew—Team Latitude, as Nate was calling it.
Russ didn’t look thrilled, but he smiled and played along, tossing a bag underhand while one of the other captains cheered way too loud.
Tessa turned toward her cabin when they boarded, hoping for a quiet moment before bed. Jules had left out bottled waters and crackers and even a bottle of aspirin. She must’ve come back before they all did.
Tessa’s lips turned up on one side. Jules had certainly taken good care of them all this week. What a sweet thing she was. Tessa started down the short flight of stairs toward her room with a bottle of water as the other girls filtered off to their cabins.
But Marin was waiting.
“Not so fast, young lady,” she said, grabbing Tessa’s hand. “I need you to come with me.”
“What—Marin?—”
“Uh-uh,” Marin said, tugging her in the other direction. “Girl talk. Just us.”
She pulled Tessa into her own cabin, shut the door behind them, and crossed her arms. Tessa sank onto the edge of the wall-to-wall bed, as there wasn’t any other furniture in the cozy, yet comfortable space, besides the ample storage along the walls.
“Spill.”
Tessa blinked.
Marin narrowed her eyes. “Don’t play innocent. What happened out there tonight with you and the captain?”
Tessa sighed as the tension she’d been holding all evening finally released, just a little. She looked up at her best friend .
“So much happened,” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat. “And then it all sort of… imploded.”
“Oh, no.” Marin eased down beside her, waiting.
So Tessa told her—not everything, not in detail, but enough, and from the beginning.
That Russ had been strong and kind this week and everything she hadn’t expected to find on a charter boat in the South Pacific.
That they’d tried to keep it quiet and respectful because his job was at stake, and it hadn’t been enough.
“Another captain from his company saw us,” Tessa said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “We were just kissing in the trees, but he figured things out pretty quickly.”
Marin’s eyes widened, but she didn’t interrupt.
Tessa kept going. “Russell said he’s going to own it. He said it’s not my fault. But it is. I never should’ve asked him to meet me out there. If I hadn’t—if I’d just kept my mouth shut and let it be—he wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“You didn’t make him fall for you, Tess,” Marin said gently. “And you didn’t make him kiss you back.”
“I know,” she said. “But I still feel like I broke something that mattered to him—something really, really important. And now I can’t fix it. I can’t do anything to help.”
She blinked hard, trying not to cry again. Marin rubbed her back and let her go on.
“Also, we’d been talking about meeting up in Miami,” she added after a breath. “He was applying to work there. Near us, near me, so we could continue what we started here.”
Marin’s eyes widened.
Tessa shook her head. “But… he didn’t get the job. And now he’s decided it’s over.”
“Oh, my gosh, girl. Those are two more huge things.” Marin’s expression changed, softening into empathy.
Tessa looked down at her hands, her throat closing up. “He says he can’t do it. That it’ll only get harder the longer we drag it out. So it’s better to end it now. Tomorrow. When the plane leaves the ground.”
Marin placed a hand gently across Tessa’s hands, her lip almost trembling, like Tessa’s was. “Oh, Tess’…”
“He doesn’t trust me to wait for him. But I would. I would wait. For as long as it took.”
“I know you would, girl,” Marin whispered, wrapping her arms around her in a hug. “I know you would.”
Tessa leaned into her, closing her eyes as the tears came fast. A few moments passed.
“I just don’t want to talk about it with anyone else,” Tessa murmured. “Not yet. Please don’t say anything to the girls. Or to Kyle. Just… give me time. Let me do this on my own.”
Marin nodded, then pulled back and held up her pinky. “I will. Pinky swear.”
Tessa smiled—just barely—and linked hers with it. “Thank you.”
“Always. ”
They sat in silence, the hum of the boat anchored in the cove the only sound between them.
Outside, distant laughter rose from the beach again. But inside, all Tessa could feel was the ache of something real, slipping through her fingers too soon.
The catamaran was finally quiet.
No late-night laughter drifted from the main deck, no clinking glasses or the splash of a midnight swim, thank goodness.
Just the steady lapping of water against the hull and the distant rustle of wind in the palms onshore.
Russell sat alone at the tiny built-in desk in his cabin, laptop open, the soft blue glow casting shadows across his face.
He hadn’t come this far, all these years rebuilding a life after Mia, to throw it all away over several poor judgment calls. He’d listened to his heart this week, not his mind. And he was paying the price. Now, there was only one thing to do.
He stared at the cursor, blinking at the top of the email draft. For once, words didn’t come easily.
He exhaled through his nose and ran a hand through his hair, then finally typed the subject line: Regarding Professional Conduct on Current Charter.
No hiding. No vagueness. No dodging the truth.
The truth was, he’d fallen for someone he wasn’t supposed to. And though it hadn’t started with intent—it had started with stargazing and shared jokes and a kind of gravity he couldn’t explain—it had ended with her in his arms in the middle of the tropical rainforest.
He owed it to the agency to own it. His fingers moved steadily across the keys.
I’m writing to report a breach of conduct on my part during the current charter aboard the M/V Latitude.
While I have maintained my duties with full attention to guest safety and service, I did develop a personal relationship with one of the guests, a Ms. Tessa Reed, toward the latter part of the trip.
He paused, swallowing against the dryness in his throat.
There was no reckless behavior while we were at sea. However, I understand this violates the standards of the company, and I accept full responsibility. I have not discussed this with my crew, nor have I involved them in any way.
He sat back and reread the lines. It wasn’t everything—didn’t mention how real it felt, or how hard he’d tried to stay on the right side of the line. But it said enough. Enough to be accountable.
He finished it.
I will step down from this role if that’s your recommendation. I only ask that any consequences fall solely on me and not on the rest of my team, who remained professional throughout.
Russ read it one more time, then hit Send.
And just like that, it was done. No fireworks, no clarity. Just a quiet, heavy sort of calm. He leaned back in his chair and let out a heavy breath.
She meant something to him. She meant the world to him, in fact. Enough to risk this. Enough to face his indiscretion.
He stared out the small porthole into the dark horizon, then reached for his phone.