"Fair enough. Take your time. Handle things in Philadelphia. Figure out what you want." Price paused. "But Gabe? Haven Cove could use you. And I think you could use Haven Cove."
The call ended.
Gabe pocketed his phone just as someone approached with coffee in each hand.
"You look like you're heading to a funeral."
He glanced up. David stood there with two cups, bruises still darkening his face, moving carefully. But alive. Present. Real.
His brother handed him a cup. "Figured you needed this."
"Thanks." Gabe took it.
David settled into the seat beside him and winced. "Ribs are still mad about the whole hypothermia situation."
"Doctor said you need to rest."
"I'm sitting. That's basically resting." David sipped his coffee and studied Gabe over the rim. "You don't want to go back."
"It's my job."
"Wow, tone down the enthusiasm, bro.”
Gabe didn't have a good response. Because David was right.
Returning to Philadelphia meant Morrison's constant disapproval, desk work, Internal Affairs investigations that felt important but hollow. A life built around duty instead of purpose.
"It's my job."
"Stop saying that." David's tone sharpened. "You keep hiding behind 'it's my job' like that makes it okay to be miserable."
Gabe turned toward the windows where travelers hurried past—people heading out, people coming home, people caught between two lives.
"Price offered me the Haven Cove chief position," he said finally. "Interim. Rebuild what Hale destroyed."
"I know. He mentioned it when he called to check on me this morning." David's smile was bright despite his bruised face. "So why are you sitting here waiting to board a plane to a job you hate?"
"It's not that simple."
"It could be. Stay. Take the job. Be close to your favorite brother." David's smile widened, then
his tone turned serious. "I’m going to dig into this Neptune angle."
Gabe stared at the lid on his cup. "Price is running database searches but nothing's coming up."
"That's because they're looking in the wrong places." David's journalist instincts were clearly engaged. "If this organization has been operating for twenty-plus years without detection, they won't be in official records. I need to look at rumors. Whispers. Maritime industry gossip. Old newspaper archives. Connect dots that law enforcement doesn't see or can’t follow."
"That's dangerous."
"So is doing nothing." David's gaze was steady. "Theykilled Dad. Kidnapped me. Murdered Ruiz. Someone needs to figure this out."
"Just be careful," Gabe said.
David tilted his head back, finishing the last of his coffee before he spoke. "You've got it bad for Cara."
"I barely know her."
David scoffed. "Not true. You know the important things."
