Chapter Twenty-Five
The September sun sat warm but not harsh on Moriah’s skin as she stretched her legs out beneath the patio table.
The air carried the familiar tang of salt, mixed now with the mouthwatering scent of burgers and hot dogs sizzling on the grill where Brian stood, tongs in hand.
Overhead, seagulls swooped and cried, diving toward the shoreline before climbing back into the bright blue sky.
A handful of people dotted the beach beyond the dunes, but it was quieter than summer—fewer kids, more space, like the season itself had taken a breath.
Jinx lay stretched out in the shade of an umbrella, one eye half-open, his tail giving an occasional thump against the pavers.
Moriah wrapped her fingers around her glass and looked out at the water.
This was the first time she and KC had been back since he’d returned to duty, and something about that made the place feel different.
Not heavy like before. The edge that had clung to it last time was gone, replaced by something calmer, easier to breathe through.
KC’s leg brushed hers, and she glanced at him, taking in the easy way he sat beside her. Four months ago, everything had been chaos. Now, the pieces had fallen into place one by one.
Chicago had been the hardest part. Sitting in front of the grand jury, answering questions about her family, had scraped her raw.
KC hadn’t been allowed inside, but he’d been right there when she walked in and was the first person she saw when she came back out.
When they told her she likely wouldn’t have to testify again, she hadn’t realized how much she’d been bracing for it until that weight lifted.
Thankfully, a life insurance policy from one of her mother’s long-time jobs had covered the funeral costs, so she hadn’t needed to accept the offer KC had made.
But he’d still helped her handle the arrangements she couldn’t face alone.
The service had been small, quiet. Final.
She’d leaned into him when the grief came, and he’d held on, letting her mourn in her own way.
After that came the quiet work of closing out her old life. Boxes packed away by her landlord, waiting in a basement for someone to claim them. She’d kept what mattered—photos, a few personal things—and let the rest go, knowing someone else might need it more.
And then there had been the wedding.
Her lips curved as she glanced at KC beside her.
The memory of that sunset still lived sharp and bright in her mind—the sky streaked in gold and pink, the sand warm beneath her feet.
Bonnie had helped her find a dress, simple and perfect, and KC had stood there in tan chinos and a white shirt, somehow managing to outshine everything around him.
Now they were working toward something new—looking for a house near Little Creek. Her degree was nearly finished, and a job already waited for her in January, thanks to the wife of one of KC’s friends. For once, the future didn’t feel like something to survive—it felt like something to build.
Around the table, conversation flowed easily. Dan leaned forward, talking about bringing back the annual family fishing trip, his voice carrying that familiar determination.
Moriah tipped her head, studying him. “Does that include me, even though I’ve never gone fishing before?”
“Well, you’re family now,” he said without hesitation. “So yes, it does.”
Family.
The word settled over her, warm and sure, and something inside her lifted. She glanced around at the faces gathered there—KC’s brothers, Dan, Bonnie—and felt it again. Not the ache of loss. Something fuller. Something growing.
Her smile spread. It was time to let them in on a little secret. “Well… this family is going to get bigger pretty soon.”
Four sets of eyes turned to her, confusion written plainly across their faces. Bonnie’s expression softened first, a knowing smile curving her lips.
Moriah let the moment stretch just long enough to enjoy it. “I’m pregnant.”
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then the patio erupted.
Voices rose all at once—laughter, congratulations, disbelief—while Jinx scrambled to his feet, barking as if he had something to add to the celebration. The noise wrapped around her, loud and overwhelming in the best possible way.
Before she could catch her breath, KC had her in his arms, lifting her clear off the ground and spinning her. The world blurred into streaks of blue sky and sunlit sand until she laughed, gripping his shoulders as dizziness set in.
When he finally stopped, she held on to him, her gaze locking with his. The joy there stole the rest of her breath.
“I love you,” they said at the same time.
Her smile softened as he pulled her closer, his forehead brushing hers before he kissed her. Her world narrowed to just him—the warmth of his hands, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm, and the life they were building together.
Around them, chairs scraped softly, voices faded, and footsteps retreated up the stairs, giving them a few moments of privacy.
Moriah was so focused on KC that she didn’t notice. When the kiss finally broke, she stayed close, her breath still uneven. He didn’t say a word—just held her gaze, everything he felt written plainly in his eyes.
The ocean stretched out beyond them, endless and steady, and for once, she didn’t feel like she was chasing her life anymore—she was living it.
Later that evening, with Jinx at his side, Dan stood on the dry sand above the tide line, his boots planted where the surf couldn’t reach. The full moon cast a silver path across the water, and the stars stretched wide overhead, sharp and endless against the dark sky.
Lifting his gaze to the heavens, he said softly, “One down, Annie, my love. Two more to go.”
He stood there a while longer, the wind tugging at his shirt, the night wrapping around him as the waves rolled in and out—steady, unending—like time itself.
I hope you enjoyed Seaside Strangers. Reviews are always greatly appreciated, so please take a moment to post one on your favorite book site.
Then continue reading the Whisper Softly series with Seaside Sanctuary.