My stomach twists painfully.
“So the fire department’s marine response team went out to stabilize the situation until the Coast Guard could get there,” he says. “Six of them went out, including Aiden.”
My fingers tighten around my phone.
“The surf picked up faster than forecasted,” Nathan goes on, glancing toward the open water beyond the harbor. “The swells are rough out there today.”
I don’t move. I don’t blink. I just listen.
“They reached the vessel and started helping the passengers,” he says, his voice calm but heavy. “Securing lines, trying to keep the boat steady until backup arrived.”
Nathan pauses, then, just long enough for dread to settle deep in my chest.
“What happened?” I whisper.
His jaw tightens slightly before he answers.
“They believe a wave hit the boat sideways while Aiden was helping one of the passengers,” he says quietly. “The surge knocked him off balance…”
Nathan’s eyes stay locked on mine.
“And he went overboard.”
Chapter 37
Iwake up before the alarm goes off, my eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light as I stare up at the ceiling for a moment before the memory of last night comes rushing back.
May.
The image is so clear it almost feels like it’s still happening—the glow of the lights in the backyard, the warmth of the fire beside us, the way she looked up at me just before she reached for my neck and pulled me down toward her.
I let out a slow breath and close my eyes for a moment, my hand drifting to the back of my neck where her fingers had been. No matter how many times I imagined that moment over the last few weeks, none of those versions came close to the real thing.
The real thing had been softer, warmer, and somehow completely natural, like the two of us had been moving toward it for longer than either of us realized.
A quiet whine near the door pulls me back to the room, and when I glance over, I see Skye already sitting there watching me patiently, her tail thumping lightly against the floor as if she’s been waiting for me to get up.
“Alright,” I murmur, pushing the covers back. “I’m up.”
I make my way downstairs, the house still cool from the early-morning air. In the kitchen, I turn the coffee maker on before heading to the back door to let Skye out into the yard.
The yard is quiet in that calm way it always is this early, the ocean somewhere beyond the cliff sending its steady rhythm through the air, but my eyes drift to the edge of the patio, where May and I stood last night.
The memory of it spreads through my chest again, warm and steady, because I can still see her standing in front of me, still feel the way her hand slipped into mine.
I had spent weeks telling myself to be patient with her, letting things grow slowly instead of rushing anything, reminding myself that she had just arrived here and deserved the time to settle into this place before anything complicated started between us.
And then she kissed me.
The thought alone pulls a smile across my face.
Finally.
My gaze drifts across the yard toward her house, the windows still dark in the early hour, and for a moment I imagine walking over there, sneaking inside, waking her up, and kissing her good morning.
The idea settles somewhere deep in my chest before I shake my head lightly and pour my coffee into my tumbler. I have to get to work before I go and do something completely unhinged.
I let Skye back inside, grab my gear bag from the chair near the door, and step out into the cool morning air, tossing the bag into the back seat of the truck before climbing into the driver’s seat.
