My heart leaps at the sight of my name. I would have thought he’d have painted over it. Renamed it something else.
Something better.
Don’t think on it too much. He probably just got busy. Shoving the past back where it belongs, I change course and head straight for the marina.
Supplies.
A cautious planner, he always had a first aid kit on board. Here’s hoping, like the town, that didn’t change. I can find the supplies, tend to my leg, then slip out before anyone ever notices that I crawled back to this place.
With renewed strength, thanks to my plan, I continue forward until I hit the dock. My shoes thud against the boards as I limp my way toward the boat, all the while glancing behind me to make sure I’m not being followed.
As soon as I climb aboard, I head straight for the door that will lead me into the cabin. I know this place like the back of my hand because nearly every good memory I have of this town happened here. On this boat. With him.
I pull open the door, and his scent hits me. Salt and teak. Home. Because it smells like him. Tears blur my vision for reasons other than the pain now, and emotion sears the inside of my throat.
There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by when I haven’t thought of him.
My vision wavers again, a sobering reminder that, if I don’t stop focusing on the past, I won’t have a present, so I fumble around for a light switch I know I can’t use for long without drawing attention. But trying to find supplies in the dark, on a boat I haven’t been on in nearly two decades, seems improbable.
Supplies. Maybe a little rest. Then I’ll be gone before he knows I was here. Maybe the holding tank even has water in it so I can take a quick hot shower.
Man, wouldn’t that be lucky?
I continue toward the right, running my hands over the walls.
But when the cool steel of a gun barrel presses against the back of my head, I freeze in place, dread coiling in my stomach like a deadly snake ready to strike.
No way. There is no way they found me here. Not this fast.
Light floods the room when a lamp is flipped on. I blink rapidly as my vision adjusts to the assault.
“Tessa?”
My heart flutters at the recognition even as my stomach plummets to the floor. No. Of all the people to run into, why did it have to be him?
Right as I turn toward him, the floor gives way, and the room tilts. Or, maybe it just feels that way because everything goes dark.
“Stay with me, please!” that familiar voice orders.
If only I could tell him that I never wanted to leave in the first place.
A thin line of sunlight draws me out of sleep, but the peaceful feeling ends there. As soon as I’ve crawled out of the dark nightmares, pain assaults me. There’s not a single inch of my body that doesn’t ache, and my left leg might as well be on fire.
The steady beeping of machines claims my focus next, and the all-too-familiar sound brings a wave of nausea over me. No. No. Did he find me? Will he find me? My heart begins to pound, but I keep my eyes closed tightly.
Like someone trying to avoid a bear attack, I play dead—or rather, unconscious.
“Tessa, you’re safe.” The deep voice is comforting and familiar, but it brings an onslaught of emotions even more powerful than the fear.
Zane.
My eyes flutter open, and I look up at him. He’s standing over me in faded jeans, a worn sweatshirt with the word NAVY across the front, and a tattered South Carolina baseball cap pulled low over his sun-kissed hair.
Oh, Zane. His face is glorious torment and sweet rescue all at once.
He’s here.
Where is here?
