Tucked in the shade ofMira’s mast, surrounded by the sea and sky, she longed to stay in that moment forever. The five hours she’d stood there alone suddenly seemed so brief in light of the bigger picture, the grander story.Theirstory. And it wasn’t over yet. Not even close.
A flash of blue and white around his wrist caught her eye.The friendship bracelet. “You still have it?” She tenderly touched the woven strands.
“Of course. I put it back on yesterday. And I don’t plan to take it off again.”
She hadn’t noticed it last night, either distracted by the glitz of the gala or his suit jacket had kept it hidden. She smiled softly, wondering whatever happened to the one she’d made for Kevin. “It looks good on you.”
“There’s something I need to tell you. About this bracelet. About the night Kevin died.” His voice strained, and sadness glinted in his eyes.
“What is it?” Is it what he’d wanted to tell her last night before their argument?
“First, how about we takeMiraout for a spin?”
“Is she seaworthy?”
“Yep. I checked with Mackensie and did a thorough inspection myself.” He held out his hand. “So, what d’ya say? Will you be my first mate?”
Cap wiggled by his side, eager to climb aboard.
“I thought you’d never ask.” Sage slid her hand in Flynn’s. His firm, assured grasp closed over hers.
With Flynn, she’d willingly go wherever the wind took them. But she couldn’t quiet a faint whisper of restless curiosity.
What did he need to tell her?
Chapter 39
FLYNN
Flynn tiltedhis face toward the sun, relishing the wind and salty spray asMirasailed across the frosty-tipped water. He breathed in the invigorating, tangy scent of the sea that also smelled deliciously sweet, like hope and second chances.
By his side, Cap stuck his snout into the air, his tongue flopping to one side as the wind ruffled his golden mane.
“What d’ya think, bud? You like the seafaring life?”
Cap barked his approval, and Flynn laughed.
It had been years since he’d sailed, but it all came rushing back in a flurry—exhilarating and freeing, as if the great blue expanse went on forever.
He glanced at Sage standing near the bow. With her honey-colored curls fluttering around her slender neck and shoulders, and her long, gauzy dress billowing around her perfect frame, she looked like a sea nymph or siren—stunning, ethereal, and almosttooalluring. In her presence, he found it difficult to concentrate. Thankfully, the sailing conditions couldn’t be smoother, and Mackensie had custom-builtMirato require as few hands on deck as possible.
Plus, just like old times, Sage proved to be an excellent first mate, further solidifying in his heart that, together, there wasn’t anything they couldn’t accomplish.
They followed the coastline, heading north toward the Tanti Islands, daydreaming about bookish sailing tours and what the future held. For a moment in time, they existed in a perfect bubble of bliss, unmarred by heartache and loss.
He was tempted to keep sailing and never look back.
The mirthful mood shifted as they rounded a craggy sea stack and Coyote Cave came into view. Goose bumps pricked his arms.
Sage met his gaze, her eyes troubled and questioning. Almost immediately, her expression softened, as if she understood, at least on some level, that he needed to do this—he needed to face the past.
The cave, carved into a rocky promontory, garnered its name from the prolific coyote mint plant that covered the cliffside in fragrant, lavender-hued blooms. It used to be a favorite local haunt until Kevin’s accident. Now, a battered chain-link fence guarded the entrance.
As if in reverence of that fateful day, the sun dipped behind a cloud, casting shadows on the headland. His stomach clenched as they drew closer.
Speaking only when needed, they worked in tandem, anchoringMiraoffshore.
While they completed the necessary tasks, trepidation built in Flynn’s chest. He hadn’t been back to the cave since the night of Kevin’s memorial service. He could still feel the heat of a hundred or more votive candles illuminating the beach, flickering across the inky-black water. His parents had wanted him to speak that night, to say something in remembrance of his brother. But he hadn’t been able to form a single word past the guilt and regret strangling his throat.
