Heidi accepted the bottle, eyes bright. “Is that medical advice?”
“It’s Catalina advice,” Tosh said, leaning a little too close. “More dangerous than medical, and it lasts longer.”
Harmony watched the choreography—the way Tosh stepped just a little too close, offering charm like a spotlight. The way Joe scowled from the helm, energy sharpening. Zach stayed where he was by the bait tank, but his attention narrowed, taking in the scene without moving. Candy shifted her sunhat lower as if trying not to watch—but absolutely not looking away.
Heidi smiled, took a sip, then turned toward the bait station. “So which one of you is teaching me how not to hook myself in the eye?”
“All of us,” Joe said immediately.
“I’ve got the best cast,” Tosh countered.
Zach finally spoke, his voice low and certain. “They’ll show you how to look good. I’ll show you how to actually catch fish if that’s what you really want.”
Heidi laughed, the sound dancing along the surface of the water. “Honesty. I like that.”
She drifted toward Zach as if it were the most natural choice. Harmony felt the shift around them, the boat’s mood tighteningas if the island had just approved something. She noticed how easily Heidi occupied space beside Zach. Not aggressively. Not deliberately. Just comfortably. She filed the observation away, unsettled not by Heidi—but by the fact that she’d noticed at all.
Cass noticed too. “Well. Look at that. She’s picking the quiet one.” She glanced at Harmony. “What do you think about that?”
“I think I’ll keep watching the actors rehearse their lines,” Harmony said with a smirk, not showing what she was feeling.
“Are you okay?” Cass asked, concern entering her eyes.
Harmony smiled. “I’m always okay.”
“That’s so not true,” Cass said, looking more worried than usual.
Zach picked up a rod, his hands efficient, checking the line with the ease of someone who learned competence before taking his first steps. “Ever fished before?” he asked Heidi.
“Not like this. My grandpa used to take me to a lake near our home when I was a kid,” she said softly. “He’d tell me stories about mermaids living on the bottom. Said you only saw them if they knew you believed. He also made the best peanut butter sandwiches ever, and we’d take naps in the sun together.” Her eyes shone as she spoke of a grandpa she clearly adored and missed.
The boat fell momentarily quiet. Even Harmony felt that one.
Zach’s expression changed—something gentle, then dangerous—before smoothing into something unreadable.
“Mermaids don’t live in lakes,” Joe said loudly.
“They do if you need them to,” Heidi replied.
Mary, sitting alone at the bow with her rod resting idle and her knife clipped to her belt, looked at Heidi with an expression Harmony couldn’t quite decipher.
“Some things do live under the water,” Mary said quietly. “Things that never stop being hungry.”
Cass blinked. “Hell, Mary. We’re fishing, not summoning.”
Mary shrugged. “Some days, it’s the same thing.”
Harmony watched her. Mary’s fingers stroked the knife handle once—absent or deliberate, there was no telling which.
“This is better than lake fishing,” Joe called, breaking up the tense moment. “We’ve got beer and better company, and don’t need naps.”
“You can bring me a sandwich later,” Tosh added. “I’ll pretend it’s nostalgic.”
Heidi glanced over her shoulder at them, smiling, but her body angled toward Zach. “Guess you’re on peanut-butter duty, then.”
“I’m the captain,” Joe protested. “Captains don’t do peanut butter.”
“Captains do whatever keeps the passengers happy,” Cass said sweetly.
