He grunts approval and turns back to the grill.
The place is half-full—a couple of regulars at the counter, a booth of fishermen laughing low over their plates, Marjorie in her usual spot by the window with a cup of decaf and the local paper. She spots me, smiles that knowing smile of hers.
“Well, look who’s out in the rain.”
“Evening, Marjorie.”
She folds the paper. “Heard you were up at the new girl’s place today. Roof work in the rain? That’s dedication.”
I keep my expression neutral. “The roof was leaking. Fixed it.”
“Uh-huh.” She sips her coffee. “Isla seemed really grateful when she stopped by the center earlier to drop off some files. Said you saved her from a flooded kitchen.”
“Did what needed doing.”
One of the fishermen—Hank, gray beard, perpetual squint—leans over from his stool. “Heard she’s pretty too. You get a good look?”
Laughter ripples down the counter. Jonny chuckles while he flips the burger.
I don’t rise to it. “She’s Declan’s sister.”
The laughter quiets a fraction. Hank raises a brow. “Didn’t know he had one.”
“Most folks don’t,” I say. “Doesn’t change the job.”
Marjorie tilts her head. “She’s sweet, Ronan. Quiet. Looks like she’s carrying something heavy. It would be nice if someone showed her this town’s not all strangers.”
I meet her eyes. “She’s here to work. Not to make friends.”
“Everyone needs friends,” she says softly.
Jonny slides the plate in front of me, with a burger, fries, and a pickle spear on the side. “Eat before it gets cold.”
I pick up the burger, take a bite. It’s juicy, hot, and the bun is toasted just right. I chew slowly, let the normalcy of it ground me. The teasing dies down. Conversation drifts back to crab prices and the new buoy markers the coast guard put out.
I’m halfway through the meal when movement outside the window catches my eye.
Isla.
She’s walking along the sidewalk across the street, hood up against the mist, hands shoved deep in her jacket pockets. The streetlight catches her profile, chin tucked, shoulders rounded like she’s bracing for something. She’s heading toward the turnoff that leads up to the bluff, toward the cottage.
I watch her without meaning to. She stops under the next light and pulls her phone from her pocket. The screen glows blue against her face. She reads something, and her whole body changes—shoulders hike up, free hand curls into a fist at herside. She stares at the screen for a long beat, then types quickly, thumbs moving fast. Deletes. Types again. Her lips press thin.
She looks scared.
Not startled. Not annoyed. Scared. The kind that settles deep and stays.
She shoves the phone back in her pocket, glances around like she’s checking for eyes on her, then keeps walking. Faster now. Head down.
My burger sits forgotten.
Jonny notices me staring. “Everything okay?”
I push the plate away. “Yeah. Just… forgot something.”
I drop cash on the counter, more than enough for my meal and tip, and stand. Marjorie watches me go but doesn’t say anything. The bell jingles behind me as I step out into the mist.
The air feels colder now. I cross the street, keeping to the shadows of the buildings, pace matching hers but staying half a block back. Not following. Just making sure she gets home safe. That’s what I tell myself.
