We cruised past the breakwater into an endless sheet of blue. Gulls shadowed the wake. The sun made the water shimmer so bright it felt like looking into the future—featureless, blinding, and full of hazards.
Brynn plopped down beside me, her knee knocking mine. “You look green.”
“Motion sickness or nerves. Hard to say.”
She laughed, softer this time. “It’s just a boat ride, Dean.”
Easy for her to say. For me, it felt like a trial by saltwater, with two judges—one immune to bullshit, the other immune to my charms. Though I kept trying to warm her up to them.
Out in open water, Austin throttled down. “I’ll set the lines. You two can handle drinks.”
Brynn trotted to the cooler to remove a soda, then tossed me a second. I fumbled the catch.
Austin lifted one brow. “You sure you’re up for this?”
I popped the tab. “If I puke, it’s only because I’m enjoying myself so much.”
Brynn snorted. “He’s fine, Austin. Don’t let the landlubberexterior fool you.”
Austin grunted and turned to the rods. I studied him, how deliberate and natural every movement was, how the sea seemed to obey him. I envied his steadiness. Meanwhile, every glance at Brynn reminded me of how unmoored I felt.
Brynn finished her soda and tossed the empty in the trash. She glanced at me, searching my face. “Seriously, you okay?”
I had no idea how to answer that. “Yeah. Just getting my sea legs.”
“The footing feels a little uneven, doesn’t it?” As soon as the words left her mouth, our eyes collided and held fast. She felt it too, that buzz between us neither would acknowledge out loud.
Austin throttled back and the engine softened to a low rumble. He jerked his chin at Brynn. “You remember how to bait a line?”
She grinned. “Bet I remember better than you do.”
They had the easy rapport of old conspirators. I saw a version of Brynn I hadn’t met yet. A little tougher, a little wilder. Again, the ground shifted under my feet.
My line snagged twice before I managed to get the bait into the water. Brynn watched, biting back a smile.
“If you stare at it, nothing happens,” she said, settling onto the bow. “Try ignoring it. Fish hate a try-hard.”
Austin snorted as he leaned casually against the console. He studied me for a long minute, as if deciding whether I was salvageable. “I grew up thinking people were like fish. Spook easy, bite at anything shiny, mostly just want to be left alone. But the good ones—you have to earn their trust. Takes patience.”
“Or chum,” I said.
He grinned, brief, sharp, then gone. “That too.”
As we drifted, the rhythm of the boat and the sun’s heatworked a slow anesthetic on my nerves. After a while, I forgot to care how I looked. My shoulders dropped and my stomach settled. I let the sun melt the rest of my defenses.
Austin, who had been silently watching the lines, turned his attention to me. “What’s your line of work back in the city? When you’re not crashing weddings, I mean.”
“Finance,” I replied, the word feeling hollow out here. “I’m a Certified Financial Planner, but now I work as a futures analyst for a big investment firm.”
Austin nodded slowly, his face giving nothing away. “Sounds important.”
“It’s mostly just moving decimals around on a computer screen,” I admitted. “I used to do financial planning with families and small businesses. Helped them prepare for the future and enjoy the present, you know?”
“I know a little about running a business,” Austin said, a hint of dry humor in his voice.
“I liked it more in some ways,” I continued, the thought forming as I spoke. “It felt like I was actually impacting people’s lives, not just a balance sheet.”
Brynn, who had been quietly listening from the bow, wandered over. She nudged my arm, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Careful, Mercer. You’re starting to sound like you’ve got itchy feet, too.”
