He'd spent the next twenty-six years thinking about everything. Calculating every risk. Building protections against every possible loss.
So afraid of the journey that he'd never let himself begin.
The last of the hatchlings disappeared into the surf, swallowed by the dark water and the vast unknown beyond. Alex stayed where he was, knees pressed into the sand, face wet with tears and salt air.
New beginnings, he thought.Right there. Dozens of them. Choosing the unknown over the safe darkness of the nest.
The beach was empty now. Just him, the waves, and the moonlight illuminating the sandy trail left behind—evidence of courage he'd spent his whole life avoiding.
Some things, you don't think about. You just feel them.
He felt it.
He'd felt it for days—weeks, if he was being honest. The pull toward something essential. The call of something worth risking everything for.
He'd just been too scared to follow.
And then you have to be brave enough.
The words echoed in his mind—his mother's voice, blending with Megan's, blending with Lily's.
Ask me to stay.
She'd been brave. Over and over, she'd been brave.
New beginnings were possible.
If only he’d been brave enough to grab one.
Chapter Fifteen
The moment Lily's phone reconnected to civilization, it had what could only be described as a nervous breakdown.
She was still on the connecting ferry to the main island when the notifications started—a cascading waterfall of pings that made the elderly couple across from her shoot concerned glances in her direction. Emails, texts, Instagram alerts, voicemails, calendar reminders for meetings she'd missed a week ago. Her phone vibrated so continuously it nearly walked itself off her lap.
Welcome back to the real world.
She thought it grimly, watching the numbers climb. 847 unread emails. 203 text messages. 14 voicemails, all from the same number.
Jessica.
Her manager was going to kill her.
Lily shoved her phone in her bag, not ready to face any of it yet. Through the salt-smeared window, the ocean stretched endlessly in every direction—the same impossible blue she'd woken up to for two weeks, the same waves that had soundtracked her nights with Alex.
Don't think about him. Don't think about him. Don't?—
She thought about him.
The way he'd stood on that dock, hands fisted at his sides, watching her leave without saying a word. The shell in her bag, wrapped in his t-shirt—the one she'd stolen because it still smelled like him. The ghost of his voice in her ear:Get some sleep. Early morning tomorrow.
As if sleep were possible. As if anything were possible now.
Lily pressed her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes, letting the engine's rumble fill the hollow space in her chest.
You're Lily St. John. You don't fall apart.
But God, she wanted to.
