Chapter 12 Brynn
12
Brynn
Spencer reaches out his hand to help me from the boat and pulls me onto the dock, where my legs wobble like Jell-O, although it’s unclear if the cause is his sudden proximity or the fact that my legs are still recovering from all the pedaling.
“So glad you guys made it back. It was wild.” He nods at the blue boat tied up to the dock at a weird angle. “We started to take on water as soon as we left the beach. It was a slow leak, but we didn’t want to chance it and thought it was safer to get back to the marina quickly. My guess is the damage happened with our little accident earlier.”
My stomach sinks, and my eyes accidentally find Josh’s as he steps from the swan to the dock. I half expect him to give me an I told you so look, or at the very least a shake of the head to remind me that not only did my boat rage cause the issue, but that I also blamed Luce.
But all he does is nod, as if agreeing with Spencer’s assessment. “Glad you guys are all right.”
I look around the empty marina, which appears dark and closed up for the night. “Where is Luce?”
Spencer points to something out at sea. “She thought a storm might be blowing in and wanted to check on her animals. Her horse, Westley, gets spooked if there’s thunder. But I wanted to wait for you to get back. I was thinking we could walk home together, since we’re neighbors.” He glances at Josh. “Unless you have other plans.”
My blood rushes with that heightened buzz I haven’t felt in years. “Plans? Why would I have—”
Josh.
“Why don’t you two go ahead?” Josh answers, as if sensing my dilemma. “I’m going to head back. I could use a solid night’s sleep.”
“Are you sure?”
Josh holds my gaze. “All good. I’m gonna take off. I’m really anxious to get home.”
The double meaning isn’t missed. He’s not just helping me here. He’s helping us.
We watch as Josh heads through the parking lot to the road that leads into town. He’s a tiny dot in the distance when Spencer holds his arm out with a “Shall we?”
I take it, loving the fact that we’re finally alone as we start off on a slow stroll down the dock and past the marina to the road.
Unlike the pristine pavement of Main Street, this road is made of rustic gravel. The streetlamps are spaced too far apart, leaving unlit gaps in between. We hit a patch of darkness, and my foot slips into a sizable divot, twisting my ankle and lurching me forward. But just before I hit the road, two strong hands grab hold of me.
“Whoa. Whoa.” Spencer lifts me back onto my feet. “I almost lost you there.”
The streetlamp hits his eyes at an angle that makes them sparkle, and I catch the faintest whiff of cedar forest.
“I wouldn’t want that to happen again. I’ve really missed you, Sloan.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and his hand lingers on my cheek.
“I’ve really missed you too, Spencer.”
I’m not even playing the part now. I have missed him and the way I feel right now. Comfortable in these familiar surroundings. Safe.
His finger traces the hem of my sweatshirt. “I meant to tell you earlier; you looked so pretty in that dress.”
I look down at my sweatshirt.
No.
Not my sweatshirt.
Josh’s.
I want to be her. That sweet, agreeable girl that Spencer and the rest of this town adores.
My fingertips find the hem and pull. As the sweatshirt slips over my head, I realize it wasn’t Spencer who smelled like the forest at all.
It was the sweatshirt.
“Ah.” Spencer takes it from my hands. “There’s my girl.”
He reaches for my hand.
I expect warm fingers, a zing, or a tingle. What I get is a palm, cold and clammy. And as we walk on, the feeling travels up my arm and down my chest until it settles in my core.
I’m cold.
And I kind of want the sweatshirt back.
We continue to walk. The night gets a little darker as the trees thicken, forming a canopy until there’s a break in the woods and the sky opens up again as the beach comes into view.
However, with no trees to shelter us, the breeze from the water picks up.
Goosebumps prickle up my arms, setting off an inner battle of Brynn versus Sloan. Warmth-seeking practicality versus the desire to be exactly what Spencer wants.
I hold out at first, telling myself it’s just a breeze.
Mind over matter.
But then my teeth begin to chatter, clattering so loudly that I’m shocked Spencer doesn’t say anything.
“So…” I attempt to distract myself from the cold. “Tell me more about LA. Was it everything you hoped it would be?”
Spencer smiles. “LA was LA, but it wasn’t Carson’s Cove.” He slows his walk. “There’s something really special about this place. There’s nowhere in the world quite like it, and I’m just really glad to be back. Especially with you.”
My heart swells with unabashed hope.
Our cottages come into view.
“Looks like we’re home.” Spencer nods at his own house, then Sloan’s house next door, which is all dark save for the yellow porch light.
“It was great to see you again.” He pulls me into a hug. My cheek crunches against his collarbone, and I get a whiff of something. It’s definitely not cedar. But before I can place it, he pulls away. “We should do this again soon.”
He doesn’t move. Not closer. Not even farther away. He just stands there.
I do the same, rooted in my spot on the road.
This is the point where it happens. Where the scales tip in one direction or the other. Where we decide to take this a step further or call it a night.
Everything is perfect. The moonlight. The sound of the waves. All I need to do is reach out my arms. But for some reason, I don’t.
He steps away first.
“Well, I’m beat. I’m going to head in. I’ll see you tomorrow though?” He asks it like a question, and I find myself nodding along.
“Sure, yeah, me too. You know, all of that pedaling.”
He starts to walk toward his cottage but stops halfway, turning slowly back to face me, and I think, Here it is. Right now. It’s the moment I’ve been waiting for.
“Hey, Sloan.”
He pauses, and my mind completes the sentence in a hundred different ways:
I’ve always loved you.
I’ve finally realized we are soulmates.
I regret leaving fifteen years ago without ever telling you how I felt.
He takes a deep breath, and I know whatever he’s going to say next is going to change my life.
“I forgot to give you back your sweatshirt.”
He tosses me Josh’s hoodie, then waves and heads inside the house next door to Sloan’s.
Fifteen years and still oblivious.