“She…shewas dancing in the shipyard. Don’t even ask me how she got in here at this hour, but she was there, dancing around and singing like she was at a club or some shit. After everything that went down yesterday, I think she proved she isn’t made to work here. I gave it a try, Hunter, I?—”
“The only thing I got out of your little monologue here is that you should finally get your shit together and get a new security system installed if it bothers you that she gets inside the yard on her own. For the other part, she danced, oh my God, call the police. North, honestly, I know you don’t want her there, but Nash told me how that boat purred again like a cat after she fixed the motor. The way I see it, we got ourselves the mechanic we needed so desperately.”
My frustration and anger build. I know I can’t say anything against the job she did. It seems she really does know herway around some things concerning motors, but that just isn’t enough. “And Nash and I told you how she wanted to get that boat in the water on her own and nearly killed herself trying!”
The silence from Hunter is telling. He knows. He knows this isn’t just about protocols or safety measures. It’s about my own damning history, the times I’ve been just a step too late, the memories that haunt me, that turn every potential mishap into a catastrophic what-if in my mind.
If I had gotten Saylor back in time…
If I had been home when I told her I would be…
“Well, you know I don’t like to say it, brother, but whose fault was that?” Hunter finally answers.
Mine, it is always my fault.
I can’t seem to keep anyone around me safe.
“Who is dumb enough to hold on to a rope that holds a ten-thousand-pound boat!” I nearly growl, my despair turning to anger.
It’s the only emotion I can handle anymore.
“And who is dumb enough not to give the new employee a run-through of their job?” he counters. “Suck it up, buttercup. She stays.”
Hunter ends the call, leaving me standing there, phone pressed to my ear, the weight of his words sinking like an anchor in my chest. The silence that follows the beep is heavy, and in it, the echoes of my past failures ring out, taunting me. I’m the one who’s supposed to have control, the fucking captain, the one to make the calls that keep everyone safe, and yet…
I can’t keep the strain from my voice, the edge of defeat, as I admit into the silence to no one but myself, “You’re right. It’s on me.”
The admission is a bitter pill, a reminder that I failed before, with consequences I can’t shake.
He’s gone.
She’s gone.
I lower my arm but grip the phone tighter, my knuckles whitening, the anger at myself a gnarled knot in my stomach.
Everything in here is my responsibility, which includes Sloan now. It’s my penance, my way of making up for what I can’t undo.
And she’s just oblivious to the dangers, reckless even.
She makes this even harder than it already is, and I despise her for it.
And at the same time…
My gaze drifts to where Sloan works, oblivious to the turmoil she’s causing inside me. Hunter was right. I can’t keep her safe if she doesn’t understand the risks. I can’t keep her out when she’s a permanent resident in my waking thoughts.
I let out a slow breath, trying to dislodge the tightness in my chest.
Nothing is going to happen to her.
I’ll make sure of it.
TWENTY-THREE
“I can’t decide,”Tally mutters from my right, getting more agitated by the second.
I stand in front of two buckets of paint, one a pale blue and the other a soft pastel green. Tally and Tim are by my side, each holding a paintbrush, deep in discussion about which color would suit the nursery best.
It’s Saturday, and they always spend their weekends renovating their house, along with Tim’s parents, who are downstairs, tiling the guest bathroom. Since I only work at the restaurant in the evenings on weekends, I offered to help both days as a little thank you for being able to park in front of the restaurant and use the electricity.
