Chapter 38 Austin
THIRTY-EIGHT
AUSTIN
By the time Halloween night came around, I was crawling out of my skin. Excitement and unease warred in my chest, pulsing just beneath the surface like a second heartbeat.
I’d spent the past hour pacing the living room, pretending to eat and watch television, all while listening to Selene and Winnie through the wall. The lights were dimmed low, my boots were by the door, and the last piece of my costume hung over the kitchen chair like it was waiting for courage.
Through the wall, Selene’s voice floated in—soft and teasing.
Then came Winnie’s giggle, unmistakable and wild with energy. “I’m gonna be the grossest sea captain ever!” she announced like a battle cry.
I smiled despite the tension stringing through my chest.
There was a rustle of movement, the thud of something being dropped—maybe a bag or one of those big plastic pumpkins she insisted on dragging everywhere.
Then Winnie got louder. “Mom! Please hurry up! My beard isn’t sticking!”
I leaned back against the wall, head tipped just enough to catch every sound I shouldn’t have been listening to. Selene’s voice was too quiet to catch all the words, but it was warm. Light. It curled under my skin like heat from a long-forgotten fire.
Winnie giggled. “Austin’s gonna freak out when he sees you. You look so ghosty.”
I held my breath in the beat of silence. Something muffled. Selene must’ve said something back, but the words didn’t carry.
I heard the front door open—hinges groaning gently—and the slam of it closing. Their footsteps padded across the porch.
It was finally time.
I reached for the last piece of my costume. My hands shook a little—not from nerves, I told myself. From hope.
From trying.
From still loving them more than anything else in the world and finally doing something about it.
The porch creaked under my boots as I eased the door open. The night air was cool and sharp, the scent of crushed leaves rising up from the walkway. Porch lights blinked across the neighborhood in warm, flickering bursts. Jack-o’-lanterns flickered like quiet sentinels.
Selene stood at the edge of the porch, her hand resting gently on Winnie’s shoulder. For a second I forgot how to breathe.
She wore layers of gauzy white that shimmered under the porch light, the edges frayed like seafoam and storm-snatched lace.
Her hair had been twisted loosely, wisps catching the breeze like kelp beneath the surface.
A dusting of silver shimmer traced her collarbone.
She didn’t look like a woman in costume.
She looked like a legend pulled from the tide—like the Lady of the Dunes stepping out of a whispered dream.
I had tried to match that magic. Her eyes widened as she turned and looked at me.
A sun-faded button-up clung to my chest, sleeves rolled to my forearms, with flashes of my tattoos peeking beneath them.
Worn suspenders crossed my back. I’d thrifted an old sailor’s scarf from the antique shop in town—sea-glass green and fraying at the ends.
My hair was messier than usual, salt tossed, and as unruly as I could get it.
I’d added a streak of fake dirt along my jawline, a few rips in my pants.
A shipwrecked soul from another time, lost and finally returned.
Her long-lost love.
I didn’t know if she’d recognize it right away, but when her eyes finally found mine, something in her went very still.
Winnie spun around, her fake beard askew and an enormous pirate hat tilting on her head.
Seaweed dangled from her curls, tangled with a rubber crab.
One of her sleeves was stuffed with cotton batting to mimic a missing arm, and a plastic hook jutted out like she’d won it in a bar fight.
The best part—a fake eyeball on a string—bobbed against her cheek as she grinned at me.
“Ahoy!” she cried, jabbing the hook in my direction. “It’s the ghost of Shippy McShipface’s crew!”
I barked a laugh and crouched low, holding my hands up in surrender. “You’re terrifying, Captain. Can I take a look at you?”
Winnie beamed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Only if you walk the plank with us.”
I looked at Selene again. She hadn’t moved, not really. Just stood there, her lips parted slightly like she’d been caught off guard. Like she wasn’t sure whether to smile or cry.
I didn’t speak. Not yet.
I just stood up slowly, brushing off my knees, and held out my hand.
Winnie’s grin stretched beneath the beard. “Told you, Mama.”
Her hook hand waved triumphantly as she raced down the path, seaweed streaming behind her.
Selene turned to me fully.
Her dress caught the breeze and fluttered around her ankles, the gauzy fabric whispering against the sidewalk like sea-foam lapping the hull of a boat.
Her hair glowed in the soft light, haloed in strands of gold and pearl.
Even like this—dressed as a ghost, her makeup hollowing her cheeks and smudging around her eyes—she was the most alive thing I’d ever seen.
“How did you know about the costumes?” she asked, voice fragile but steady.
I swallowed. My scarf felt too tight.
“Thin walls,” I said, softer this time. “I heard her talking to you. I heard you laugh.”
Her eyes flickered and her breath hitched. Selene wrapped her arms around her waist like she needed to hold herself together.
“I didn’t know if I’d see you tonight,” she whispered.
I took a small step forward. Careful. Reverent.
“I missed you,” she said suddenly, voice breaking like brittle glass.
I reached for her before I could think better of it. My hand cupped her jaw, thumb brushing the edge of her cheekbone. “I’ve been walking around missing you so hard I forget how to breathe.”
Her eyes filled. “I was upset.”
“I know.” My chest squeezed.
Her head shook. “I was upset because you missed the performance, but I was too harsh. I let—” She released a shaky breath, but she didn’t pull away.
Her hands found my chest, curled lightly in the front of my shirt.
“I let one mistake take away everything you’ve done for me.
For us. I didn’t even hear you out. I was wrong. ”
I shook my head. We both had played a part in how everything went to shit. “I fucked up. I never should have put anything before you and Winnie. It won’t happen again.”
“I don’t want to do this halfway, but I’m so scared,” she whispered.
“I’m not halfway anything with you. I’m all in. I have been since the first time we met in that shitty jazz bar.” My fingers tipped up her chin so she’d look at me. “Once I realized the incredible woman I thought had gotten away was right here? I was done for.”
A small chuckle rumbled in my chest. “You know, I missed waking up to your hair on my pillow,” I said, voice low and tight. “I missed the sound of you laughing. I missed the way you hum when you’re washing up, and the way the corners of your mouth lift when you’re pretending not to smile.”
Selene blinked, the tears trembling there.
“I missed you asking if I needed gas. I missed the way you always handed me the little fork because you know I like it best, and the way you check the door twice even though I already locked it. I missed . . . the way it felt when I wasn’t holding it all together alone. ”
I touched my forehead to hers, our breath mingling. “I never wanted you to feel alone. Not again. Not with me.”
Her lips brushed mine—barely. A tremble. A ghost of a kiss. Selene leaned in, and I met her the rest of the way.
The kiss was slow. Lingering. Not a reunion, not really. It was a remembering. A returning. A rebuilding.
Her lips opened under mine with a quiet, vulnerable sigh that hit me harder than any shouted confession. It wrecked me, the way she leaned into me like she wanted to memorize the shape of this. Of us.
I kissed her slowly, reverently. Letting it build.
One hand on her jaw, the other sliding around her waist, anchoring her to me. Her body curved into mine, and my restraint thinned.
She made a broken noise against my mouth, and I felt it in the hollow of my throat and the bend of my knees. Her kiss filled the ache that had lived in my chest in her absence.
I pulled her closer, and then I kissed her deeper, hungrier.
That kiss was full of every goddamn thing I’d wanted to say and hadn’t. Every time I’d reached for her in a dream and woken up alone. Every time I’d caught her scent in the hallway and had to stop myself from knocking on her door.
Her fingers threaded into my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan.
I kissed her again, and again, and again, until the heat bloomed between us—low and heady.
The world disappeared, and all that was left was the woman in my arms and the taste of her.
“AHEM.”
We froze.
Selene blinked up at me, wide-eyed. Her lips were swollen, cheeks flushed. I wasn’t doing much better.
We turned our heads slowly—like a pair of teenagers caught behind the bleachers—and found Winnie standing three steps away with her arms crossed, her fake eyeball swinging on its string, and a suspicious amount of smugness in her eyes.
“Am I gonna have to steer this whole ship by myself or . . . ?” she asked, her little hand slapping the outside of her thigh.
Selene choked on a laugh. I bit back a groan.
“I mean, I’m just saying . . .” Winnie continued, adjusting her crooked pirate hat. “We’ve got a whole neighborhood of candy to plunder, and the lovebirds are smooching on the porch.”
Selene covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
I dragged a hand down my face and muttered, “She’s only five, right?”
“Five and highly observant,” Selene said.
Turning on her heel, Winnie said brightly, “C’mon, the captain doesn’t wait for romance.”
She stomped off down the sidewalk, hook hand raised in triumph.
I glanced at Selene, still breathless beside me.
“We should . . .” I nodded toward the retreating pirate. “You know.”
“Right,” she said, smoothing her dress and grinning up at me. “Before she mutinies.”
I offered her my arm and Selene took it.
Together, we followed our fearless, one-eyed, seaweed-haired captain into the night.