Ford shot him a look. “You got a stopwatch, or you gonna keep narrating the obvious?”
Sawyer smirked, but it didn’t fully land. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw and stared back at the ferry. “Just weird, is all.”
Yeah. Weird.
It had been months since Willa’s brother had been on island for more than a blink. Deep cover assignment, Naval Intelligence—half the time we didn’t even know where he was, and the other half we pretended we didn’t, because knowing was the kind of thing that could get people killed. We’d gotten a few texts when he could swing them. Mostly, we’d gotten silence.
Silence meant he was alive.
I shifted my weight and watched the ferry’s ramp start to lower with a metallic groan. A couple of cars idled at the front—locals, mostly. People in work boots and sweatshirts. A woman with a cooler wedged between her knees. Nobody acted like this was anything more than a Tuesday.
My phone buzzed once in my pocket, and I ignored it on principle. Madden was probably checking in, but she knew where I was. She’d told me to tell Jace hi and not to let the guys haze him too hard on his first day back.
As if that was an option.
The ramp hit with a dull thud, and the first car rolled off. Then a second. Then the foot passengers started down, shoulders hunched against the wind, bags slung over their backs.
I saw him.
Jace looked like he always did at first glance—broad shoulders, easy stride, dark hair that needed a cut, bearded face set in that calm, watchful expression that made people underestimate him right up until it was too late. But the closer he got, the more I caught the edges: the way his gaze swept the dock, the parking lot, the ferry itself. The slight delay as he clocked exits. The tension in his posture that didn’t belong to homecomings.
Deep cover didn’t peel off like a jacket.
Sawyer spotted him and went still for half a beat, like his brain had to confirm it was real. Then he surged forward.
Jace’s mouth split into a grin that was all white teeth and relief. “Well, hell.”
Sawyer hit him first. It wasn’t a delicate reunion. It was a full-body collision disguised as a hug, the kind of thing men did when they couldn’t say I missed you without choking on it. Jace took the impact like he expected it.
Ford stepped in next, clapped Jace on the shoulder, and pulled him in close enough to thump him twice on the back. “Welcome home, asshole.”
Jace laughed low. “Missed you too.”
He turned to me. I stepped forward and gripped his forearm. He locked on, hand strong, familiar. We held for a beat longer than necessary. Not for show. For confirmation. Alive. Here. Safe.
I pulled him in for the obligatory back thump and squeeze. “Good to see you, brother.”
“Yeah. Good to be seen.” Jace stepped back, flicking between us, reading the room the way he read everything. “So what’d I miss?”
Sawyer didn’t even hesitate. “Carson’s dead.”
Jace stopped walking so abruptly that his duffel bag swung forward and bumped his thigh. “He what?”
Ford’s expression didn’t change. “Sniper. The city asked Rios to step in as the new chief of police.”
The words landed like a punch even though I’d heard them a dozen times in the last week from a dozen different mouths. The council. The interim administrator. The handful of locals who’d suddenly discovered they’d always respected me. The ones who still couldn’t look me in the eye without remembering old rumors.
I rolled my eyes because if I didn’t, I’d grind my teeth into dust. “Provisionally. I haven’t given them an answer yet.”
But it meant something that they were willing to trust me with the job. Willing to give me a chance to prove myself to this island I still somehow loved beyond reason. I was a little afraid of what that meant, hence my reluctance to commit. Madden had been the only one unsurprised. She’d simply shrugged and said that it was a sensible move on their part because they finally saw in me what she saw.
That meant something, too.
Jace’s brows shot up, and he let out a low whistle that was half disbelief, half something like admiration. Then he shook his head, still trying to catch up. He fell into step again, moving with us toward the parking lot like he didn’t trust himself to stand still.
“Well, holy shit. I’ve missed a damned lot. What are the chances I can get a comprehensive update over a beer?”
Ford jerked his chin toward his truck. “I’m marrying a brewery owner. We’re always stocked. Let’s go.”
