“George?” I answer.
“May, we need you.” His voice is tight. “There’s a humpback in distress just offshore. We’re mobilizing now.”
My chest tightens, focus snapping into place. “How bad?”
“Bad enough that we’re not waiting. The Coast Guard’s involved. Given the conditions, we’re riding with them.”
“I’ll be there. Give me twenty minutes.”
“Meet us at the Coast Guard station. We’re leaving as soon as everyone’s in.”
“Understood.”
I hang up and immediately round toward the house. Neptune adjusts without question, pace steady as we retrace our steps.
I switch back to April.
“April, I have to go. There’s a whale in distress. They need me at work right now.”
“Of course they do.” All humor disappears from her voice. “Please be safe.”
“I will.”
“May?”
“Yeah?”
Her voice softens. “We’ll talk later. About… all of this.”
I glance down at Neptune as we move, at the quiet street, the salt-heavy air.
“Yeah. We will.”
“Go save your whale,” she says.
“I’m on my way.”
We hang up, and I break into a faster stride, heart already shifting from confusion to purpose.
I change clothes in record time, pulling on waterproof pants, a thermal layer, and a rain jacket. I braid my hair tight down my back, fingers moving from muscle memory more than thought. My hands are steady now. Focused. Whatever spiral I was in a few minutes ago has narrowed into something sharp and usable.
Thank God the house is only minutes from the harbor.
I arrive to find most of the team already there—trucks lined up, doors open, people moving with purpose. The air smells of salt, diesel, and urgency.
George spots me immediately. “Humpback,” he says as soon as I’m close enough. “Reported about twenty minutes ago. Looks like an entanglement.”
My stomach tightens. “Gear?”
“Fishing line. Possibly a buoy rope,” he says. “They’re not sure how extensive yet. It was last seen near Whale Cove.”
We don’t waste time. There’s a quick rundown while we walk. The whale’s been swimming unevenly. Rolling. Surfacing more than normal. Classic signs of distress. We’re going to assess first, see what we’re dealing with, and determine whether we can assist safely before it’s too late.
Cassie jogs up beside me, already zipped into her gear. “Hey.” She’s breathless but smiling. “You made it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” And I mean it.
She bumps my shoulder lightly. “Let’s go save a whale.”
