I nod once.
“I will.”
His hand drops away, leaving the weight of it on my shoulders.
He looks toward the far side of the lot, and I follow his gaze.
May is standing beside her truck, her phone pressed to her ear as she talks to someone. She’s doing a good job holding herself together, but even from here I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her free hand grips the edge of the truck, her fingers curling against the metal as if she needs something to hold onto.
I make my way toward her.
She looks up, spots me walking toward her, and immediately ends the call, her eyes filling with tears.
Christ, she’s terrified.
I close the distance between us and pull her into my arms. She clutches the front of my suit and buries her face against my chest, a soft sob breaking loose.
The sound of the helicopter reaches us then, the low thump of rotor blades growing louder as it approaches the harbor.
Time’s up.
I gently pull back and cup her face in my hands, forcing her to look up at me.
Her eyes are red, shining with fear.
“Don’t worry, lass,” I tell her softly. “I’ll bring him back to you.”
Chapter 39
Iwatch Finn climb into the helicopter.
The moment the door closes behind him, the rotor blades begin spinning faster, the sound building into a heavy thrum that fills the entire harbor. Wind kicks up across the pavement, tugging at my jacket and whipping strands of my hair across my face as the aircraft slowly lifts off the ground.
For a brief second, it hovers there, suspended in the gray afternoon sky, and I find myself holding my breath as if somehow that might help.
Then it tilts forward and begins moving toward the open ocean.
My eyes follow it the entire time.
Please find him.
Please let him come home.
The helicopter grows smaller as it moves out over the water, the sound of the rotors slowly fading until it becomes just another distant noise carried by the wind.
Finn’s words replay in my head again.
I’ll bring him back to you.
The sentence repeats itself over and over in my mind.
I’ll bring him back to you.
My chest feels tight, like there isn’t enough air in my lungs.
Around me, the harbor has changed.
People have started gathering along the docks and near the parking lot, drawn by the sound of the helicopter and the sense that something serious is happening. In a town like this, word travels quickly. Fishermen stand in small groups near the bait shop, speaking quietly while they watch the water beyond the harbor mouth. A handful of tourists linger near the railing, their cameras forgotten around their necks as they try to piece together what’s going on.
