They settled on a small diner tucked just past the old surf shop. The kind of place where everyone knew your name—or used to.
As they slid into a booth, menus in hand, Claire couldn’t stop fidgeting. Her eyes kept darting toward the door. The windows. The booths behind her.
Sara noticed. “What’s going on, Claire?”
Claire exhaled. Long and hard. And then she cracked.
She spilled every thought that tormented her the night before. Every wish. Every nightmare. Every version of her life where she hadn’t screwed it all up.
“The worst thing that could happen now?” Claire muttered, barely meeting her sister’s gaze. “Is if he walked through that door.”
Sara gave her a long look. “You knew coming back here would do this. You’re feeling what you were always going to feel.”
“I know,” Claire whispered. “But knowing doesn’t make it easier.”
The waitress arrived to take their order, briefly pausing the unraveling.
After their food came, Claire kept her eyes low. Her voice barely above a whisper.
“I don’t want to see anyone else. I want it to be him.”
Sara hesitated. “You came here to be seen. You can’t control who shows up.”
“I know,” Claire replied. “But if anyone sees me, I want it to be him.”
The silence between them stretched, thick with all the things neither one knew how to fix. Sara, ever the protector, knew what came next if she didn’t redirect. Tears in eggs. Despair over pancakes.
So she did what she always did—she told a story.
“Remember the time you made us sneak onto the pier at midnight?” Sara said with a smirk. “Said you wanted to dance under the moonlight like it was some rom-com moment?”
Claire blinked back the sting behind her eyes. “And you fell through the slats and broke your sandal.”
They both laughed, the sound soft and cracked.
“We’re only here for three days,” Sara said gently. “Let’s make the most of it.”
Claire gave a sad smile, looking out the window at the town that once held her heart. “Careful,” she whispered. “That kind of thinking got me in trouble last time.
55
Receding Tide
Thenightbeforeheadingback to Duluth, Claire makes a choice she already knows she'll regret.
“I want to grab dinner at Tides Rising,” she says, her voice too calm to be casual.
Sara blinks. “Claire, no. That is, without a doubt, the dumbest idea you’ve had since you walked away from him.”
Claire doesn’t argue. She just stands there, eyes pleading with something unsaid. And after a few minutes of silence heavy enough to drown in, Sara grabs the keys.
“Fine. Let’s go,” she mutters. “But remember—this was your idea.”
The ride is quiet. Tense. Claire’s fingers tap against her thigh, restless. Hopeful. Dreading everything but still needing it. As they pull into the gravel lot, Claire’s breath catches. His truck is there.
Sara spots it too. “Well, you got what you wanted,” she says. But her tone is tight. Guarded.
They park, and just before getting out, Sara glances over. “This is it. I hope you’re ready.”
