8. Kane
Chapter 8
Kane
T he salty breeze rolls in off the harbor, ruffling my hair as I step out of Hooplas, my head full of half-formed plans and too many damn thoughts about Grace. I’ve been telling myself to let it go, to walk away, to focus on literally anything else, but I swear, the universe is laughing in my face.
Because there she is.
Grace.
Walking along the harbor like some vision designed to torment me, her dark hair pulled into one of those messy knots that always drives me insane. She’s wearing a lightweight sundress that clings in all the right places, swaying around her hips with every step. She looks like she belongs here—like the ocean, the breeze, and the sunlight were made to wrap around her.
And she’s completely oblivious to the fact that she’s ruining me with every step.
I should keep moving, climb into my truck, and drive away, but before I can talk myself out of it, my legs are carrying me toward her .
I’m screwed because there’s no way I’m ever walking away from her.
I call out, “Grace!”
She freezes mid-step, her shoulders stiffening like she’s bracing for impact. When she turns to face me, her eyes narrow, the corners of her lips twitching in that way that means she’s either about to smile or kill me. Maybe both.
“Kane,” she says, her tone flat. “Shouldn’t you be terrorizing someone else right now?”
I ignore the jab, grinning as I close the distance between us. “Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t move, which is as good as an invitation as any in my book. “What do you want?”
“To walk,” I say simply, gesturing toward the path she’s on. “Mind if I join you?”
Her eyebrows shoot up, surprise flickering in her expression before she masks it with her usual razor-sharp glare. “Seriously? Don’t you have somewhere better to be?”
“Nope.” I rock back on my heels, letting my grin widen. “What’s the matter, Gracie? Afraid you might actually enjoy my company?”
“Don’t call me Gracie,” she snaps, but there’s no heat in it. Not really.
I don’t wait for her to agree, falling into step beside her before she can tell me to get lost. The tension between us stretches taut, a live wire thrumming in the cool evening air. She keeps her arms crossed; her chin tilted up like she’s daring me to say something stupid, and let’s be honest, I probably will.
We keep walking, the sounds of the water lapping against the docks and the distant cries of seagulls filling the silence between us. It’s strangely comfortable, this push and pull we’ve got. Like we’re dancing on the edge of something dangerous, and neither of us is willing to step back .
“So,” I say, after a beat of silence. “What’s a girl like you doing out here alone? Looking for trouble?”
She snorts, the sound somehow both elegant and biting. “The only trouble around here is you.”
I grin. “You wound me, Grace. I’m just trying to make polite conversation.”
“Polite?” She throws me a sidelong glance, her lips curving into a smirk that makes my pulse do something stupid. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Guess I’m full of surprises,” I say, letting my voice dip lower, watching as her steps falter for half a second before she catches herself.
She looks away, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “If you’re trying to impress me, Kane, you’re wasting your time.”
“Who says I’m trying to impress you?” I counter, leaning in slightly. “Maybe I just like watching you squirm.”
Her head snaps back toward me, her eyes blazing. “I don’t squirm.”
“Sure you don’t,” I tease, my grin widening as her cheeks flush. “You’re as cool as a cucumber. Always.”
She stops walking, planting her hands on her hips, and I swear I feel the heat of her glare straight down to my bones. “What’s your deal, Kane? Do you get off on annoying me?”
I step closer, invading her space just enough to make her breath hitch. “Maybe.”
Her eyes darken, and for a moment, the air between us shifts, the playful banter giving way to something heavier, something raw and electric. The way she looks at me—like she’s trying to decide whether to kiss me or slap me—sends a jolt of adrenaline straight through me.
I could lie. I could brush it off with some sarcastic remark and keep things light. But something about the way she’s looking at me—defensive, curious, vulnerable—makes me want to give her more .
“Maybe I like irritating you,” I say, my voice softer now, more honest. “Or maybe I just like being around you.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, the world seems to narrow down to just the two of us—the breeze, the sunlight, the space between us humming with tension. She opens her mouth like she’s about to say something, but then she shakes her head, turning away.
“You’re impossible,” she mutters, breaking the stare first and resuming her walk. But she doesn’t tell me to leave, and that’s all I need.
I fall into step beside her again, the silence between us buzzing with unspoken tension. She’s stiff at first, her posture all sharp edges and distance, but gradually, her shoulders begin to relax, her steps less guarded. The silence stretches, charged with something we’re both trying to ignore. My hand brushes against hers as we walk, and she doesn’t pull away. It’s a small thing, barely even noticeable, but it feels like a crack in her armor—a sliver of possibility.
“Alright, Kane,” she says finally, her voice softer but no less challenging. “Why are you really here?”
“Like I said, maybe I just wanted to spend time with you,” I say, my tone casual even as my chest tightens with the truth of it.
She laughs, but it’s not the sharp, mocking sound I expect. It’s softer, almost genuine, and it catches me off guard. “You? Spend time with me? Please. You don’t even like me.”
“Who says I don’t like you?” I shoot back, enjoying the way her steps falter again.
She stops abruptly, turning to face me with an incredulous look. “Oh, come on. You’ve made it your life’s mission to irritate me at every turn.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t like you,” I say, stepping closer, watching as her throat works to swallow. “Maybe I just like the way you get all worked up. ”
Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t back away. “You’re infuriating.”
“And you’re stunning,” I say without thinking, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Her eyes widen, and for a moment, she looks at me like she’s seeing me for the first time. The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy, and I swear I see her resolve crack, just a little.
Then she shakes her head, her lips curving into a wry smile. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”
“Not when it comes to you,” I admit, my voice low and rough.
Her breath catches, and for a second, I think she might say something real, something that changes everything. But instead, she turns and keeps walking, leaving me standing there like a fool.
I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head as I catch up to her. “You know, Gracie, one of these days, you’re going to admit you like having me around.”
She glances at me out of the corner of her eye, her expression unreadable. “Don’t hold your breath, Kane.”
But there’s a softness to her tone, a flicker of something unspoken in her eyes, and for the first time, I feel like I might actually be getting somewhere.
Even if it kills me.
The marina glows with the soft light of the setting sun, the water reflecting shades of pink and gold. Boats sway gently in their slips, the sound of their hulls tapping against the docks blending with the occasional cry of a seagull. It’s the kind of tranquil scene that should calm a man down, but instead, it just reminds me how much I’m screwing everything up .
Grace is walking beside me, her steps slow and deliberate, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. The breeze teases at the edges of her dress, and her hair, wild and dark, looks softer in this light. She looks like she belongs here—unruffled and untouchable—but the set of her jaw tells me she’s still wary, still ready to throw up her walls at the first sign of trouble. Trouble being me.
It’s been like this the whole walk—this unspoken thing between us, the kind of tension that clings to the air, sharp and electric. The banter we usually fall into has given way to a heavy silence, and I can’t figure out if it’s because I’m too keyed up to poke at her, or because I’m afraid of what might happen if I do.
We stop at the end of the dock, the water rippling lazily below us. I lean against one of the wooden posts, pretending to be at ease, but my fingers grip the rough wood tighter than they need to.
“Alright, Kane,” she says, finally breaking the silence. Her voice is even, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s bracing for me to pull something. “You’ve been unusually quiet tonight. What’s going on?”
I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “Maybe I’m just enjoying the view.”
Her eyes narrow, her gaze cutting straight through my weak attempt at deflection. “Bullshit. Spit it out.”
And that’s Grace. No patience for games, no tolerance for my crap. For some reason, that makes it easier to let the words slip out.
“I’m tired,” I admit, my voice quieter than I intended. “Not the kind of tired you fix with a good night’s sleep, either.”
Her posture shifts, her arms dropping to her sides as she takes a step closer. “What do you mean?”
I hesitate, my jaw tightening. I’m not used to this—to admitting when I’m not okay. But there’s something about the way she’s looking at me, her sharp edges softening, that makes me want to try.
“Work,” I start, my eyes on the water instead of her. “The fires. The victims. It’s... a lot, and it feels like no matter what we do, we’re always one step behind.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I feel her watching me, the weight of her attention grounding me in a way I didn’t expect.
“And then there’s...” I trail off, running a hand through my hair. “Everything else. The wedding, trying to be a good, best man, dealing with Hudson’s endless optimism about love and marriage. It’s like everyone around me has their shit together, and I’m just... here. Barely keeping my head above water.”
Her voice, when she finally speaks, is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “You think you’re the only one who feels like that?”
I glance at her, surprised by the vulnerability in her tone. She’s not looking at me now; her gaze is fixed on the horizon, her expression unreadable.
“I feel like that all the time,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “Like I’m stuck in this cycle of pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. Like... maybe it’s never going to be fine.”
“Grace...” I don’t know what to say, how to respond to the raw honesty in her voice.
She lets out a shaky breath, her arms wrapping around herself. “Do you ever feel like... like maybe some people just aren’t meant to find it? Love, I mean. The real kind. The kind that lasts.”
The words hit me harder than they should, the weight of them settling in my chest. I want to argue, to tell her she’s wrong, but the look in her eyes stops me cold. It’s not just sadness—it’s fear. Fear of being alone, of never finding the thing she’s spent her whole life pretending she doesn’t need.
“I don’t believe that” I say finally, my voice firm. “ Not for you.”
Her head snaps toward me, her eyes wide, like she wasn’t expecting that. “Why not?”
“Because” I say, stepping closer, closing the space between us. “You’re Gracie. You’re sharp and stubborn and maddening as hell, but you’re also... unforgettable. You get under people’s skin, whether you mean to or not, and anyone who can’t see how incredible you are? That’s on them, not you.”
She stares at me, her lips parted slightly, her eyes searching mine like she’s trying to figure out if I’m messing with her. I’m not. For once, I’m not.
“Kane...” she starts, but her voice falters.
“What?” I ask, my voice dropping lower. “What is it? Tell me.”
She shakes her head, a small, rueful smile tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re beautiful,” I counter, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Her breath hitches, her eyes locking onto mine, and for a moment, the world around us falls away. It’s just us, standing there on the dock, the tension between us crackling like a live wire.
I could kiss her. Right now, I could close the gap and find out if her lips taste as good as I remember. But I don’t. Because the look in her eyes—confused, vulnerable, open—isn’t something I want to mess with. Not tonight.
Instead, I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re going to find it, Grace. Love, the real kind. And when you do, it’s going to be everything you’ve ever wanted.”
Her eyes glisten, and for a second, I think she might cry, but then she blinks, her walls snapping back into place, and she steps away.
“Thanks for the pep talk, Kane,” she says, her voice steady but distant. “But I think we both know better.”
I let her go, watching as she walks away, her steps quick and deliberate. And for the first time, I wonder if maybe I’m not just chasing her for the thrill of it. Maybe I’m chasing her because I can’t imagine not having her in my life.
And that? That scares the hell out of me because in this moment, I’m finally ready to admit to myself that I’ve fallen head over heels in love with Grace.