Heidi’s gaze lingered on the horizon for a beat. “I needed a reset,” she said. “Work got . . . heavy. I kept thinking if I didn’t leave, I’d start resenting people who needed me.” She shrugged. “Thought I’d come here, drink too much, flirt a little, remember what it feels like to be . . . free.”
Candy, who hadn’t spoken much, snorted. “Good luck with that. This island doesn’t let anyone be free.”
Heidi turned toward her, her expression open, rather than defensive. “Seems like it does,” she said. “I’ve found both light and dark. Kind of depends on where you’re standing.”
Candy’s fingers tightened around her rod. Harmony saw the slight tremor in her hand, the one she tried to hide. “And who you’re standing with,” Candy said.
Zach glanced at her, something unreadable crossing his face. Then his line jerked.
“Fish on,” he said, voice shifting to pure focus. The rod bowed.
Heidi grabbed the handle with him instinctively, laughter bursting from her in a delighted scream. “Oh! Is that—is that real?”
“Real enough,” Zach said, voice rougher now, breath near her ear.
Harmony felt a pulse she refused to name.
“Careful,” Joe warned. “Fish don’t like amateurs.”
“Neither do men,” Candy muttered.
“That’s not true,” Tosh said. “I like them.”
Cass snorted.
Mary didn’t laugh at all. She watched Heidi fighting the fish with Zach’s arms bracketing hers, then murmured softly to no one.
“Pretty things shouldn’t bleed for sport.”
Harmony heard it. She shivered.
“What do I do?” Heidi exclaimed.
“Keep tension. Don’t overpower it.” His hands guided hers, strong and sure, forearms flexing as the fish fought. “Let it run, then bring it back.”
The line sliced through the water in a silver V. The boat seemed to lean in, everyone’s attention narrowing to that single-threaded connection between them and whatever was thrashing unseen below.
“Careful,” Joe called. “She’ll spit the hook if you bully her.”
“Story of your life,” Cass said.
Heidi’s laughter came bright and breathless. “I feel like if I screw this up, it’ll haunt me forever.”
“That’s Catalina for you,” Candy muttered.
“Steady,” Zach said quietly. “Just breathe and focus.”
Heidi obeyed. Harmony watched the way she did it—how she trusted the instruction, how she leaned into it instead of fighting. There was something in her that believed in second chances. In magic. In people like Zach.
Dangerous.
The fish broke the surface in a shimmering flash, tail thrashing, spraying water across the sides.
“Yellowtail!” Joe yelled. “Hell yes!”
Zach and Heidi worked together, muscles straining, hands tight. When the fish finally thudded on the deck, it flopped wildly, silver and gold, mouth gaping.
Heidi squealed, stumbling back. Zach’s hand shot out, grabbing her waist to steady her. Too quick. Too practiced. Joe and Tosh moved in to subdue the catch.
