The sharp buzz of her phone cut through the still air, dragging her back to the moment.
Baily: Got a delivery for you at the marina.
Fallon frowned. The tension that had started to ease, coiled tight again.
“You look like the world just cracked open. What’s wrong?”
“A package came for me at the marina, only I wasn’t expecting anything.”
Leroy arched an eyebrow. “You always order so many different things, maybe you lost track. Maybe this will be a good surprise.”
“With my luck lately?” She pocketed her phone. “That’s doubtful.” She handed him back the plate.
“We make our own luck,” Leroy said. “I’m sorry, strange things have been happening to you. Buddy will figure it out. He’s smart that way. He helped Hayes and Chloe bring in a serial killer. One that was hiding in plain sight. He’ll catch whoever shot at you.” Leroy smiled. “And he’ll probably run away with your heart, too.”
“Please. No one can do that.”
“Your red cheeks say otherwise.”
“It’s hot out here.”
“It’s barely eighty, but you can tell yourself that.” Leroy looped an arm over her shoulder. “I’m happy to see you with someone who not only challenges that personality of yours, but who can handle your grit.”
“Oh, trust me, he can’t handle anything about me.” She chuckled. “But I’ll give him credit—he’s trying.” She strolled up the dock toward the walkway that led down to the marina. “I’ll see you later.”
“I’ll be here every day.” Leroy waved. “Anything for you.” He pushed open the door to the Crab Shack and disappeared.
She sighed. Time to go find out what extra goodies she ordered. It was like finding a twenty in the washing machine.
The boardwalk along the canal hummed with cicadas. The water stretched dark and glassy, stirred only by the lazy churn of an airboat somewhere downriver. She passed the old crab pots stacked by the shed, the faint clang of tools carrying from Fletcher’s workshop next door that he’d built for Cullen.
Calusa Cove was alive in its usual way—murmuring engines, distant laughter, the sound of her hometown breathing. It should’ve been comforting. Instead, it all felt too bright, too fragile, like one wrong step might shatter the illusion of safety she’d been pretending existed.
She waved at Silas as he unloaded tackle from his skiff. “Afternoon, Fallon,” he called. “How goes things with the final prep this weekend? Anything I can do last-minute?”
“You’ve done so much already. I appreciate your generosity each and every year.”
“If there’s anything else you need help with, don’t hesitate to call me. Day or night. I want to help.” Silas stepped onto the dock. “Tessa was such a bright soul. I know it’s hard for you, but you do so much to keep her memory alive.
He didn’t know the half of it.
A memory twisted in her mind—Tessa laughing as they’d raced along this same stretch of dock, barefoot, wild, invincible.
“It’s necessary.” She smiled. “I’ll see you Saturday.” She continued walking toward the main building of the marina—the memory of Tessa rusting in her chest like an old, beat-up truck left in a vehicle graveyard.
She pulled open the door and found Baily behind the counter, paperwork spread across the desk. The smell of oil and burnt rope hit first—real, grounding.
“Hey,” Baily said. “Package is on the table.” She pointed. “Showed up about a half hour ago.”
Fallon eyed the plain box on the counter. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already received everything I ordered.”
“It came by special courier. I had to sign for it, so I figured it might be important.”
“That’s just weird.” Fallon lifted the box from the table by the coffee machine and stared at it. Her name was written in bold block letters.
They stared at it together for a moment. The silence thickened, heavy with what neither of them wanted to say.
“Maybe it’s a donation?” Baily suggested.
