“Not bad for the family wild card.” Chase was impressed, and a little surge of pride wormed its way into my grin. If anyone had earned this win, it was Ben.
Austin snorted. “Maybe now he’ll let someone else fix a lawn edger for once.”
A wind gust rolled off the gulf, tugging at my skirt. I shivered a little, not from cold, but from the unexpected peace. This was the kind of day I’d been desperate for—the family moving forward, the resort steady, Chase at my side.
Austin tipped his chin, brow furrowing as he sized us up. “Right. Speaking of things paying off… Seems you two agreed to a fishing trip onLine Dancer a while back. Haven’t forgotten, have you?”
I groaned, half-laughing. “We didn’t forget. I just figured you’d be too busy with the new bookings.”
Chase slung an arm around my shoulders, squeezing. “We’re ready when you are. Name the time.”
I thought for a moment. “Maybe a sunset trip? That way it won’t mess with your scheduled charters. And Finn could come, too. He’s been begging for another adventure with Uncle Austin.”
Austin considered, jaw working. “Saturday evening looks clear. Meet at the dock around five?”
“Works for us,” I said, already picturing Finn’s excitement.
Austin nodded again, an odd softness in his eyes, then started back toward the marina, whistling under his breath.
Chase watched him go, then squeezed my hip. “Sunset cruise with the family,” he murmured, low and private. “Sounds perfect.”
I leaned into him, letting the solid weight of his arm steady me. “It does. Amazing how things have changed.”
“And all for the better,” he said quietly, brushing the hair from my forehead. “Hey, promise me something. Whenever you feel like you’re drowning in the chaos? Look for me. I’ll be right there to pull you out.”
He pressed a kiss to my temple, and a gentle, warm light filled me. I let myself look out over the sunlit pool,past the now-back-on-track room block. There was challenge ahead. There always would be. But today, I felt only hope. Saturday, the family, the open water—and whatever the next tide brought us. I was ready to welcome it all.
The linebetween afternoon and evening blurred in a honey-gold wash across the bay, sunlight flickering off the waves and scattering the boat’s shadow in broken pieces on the water. I leaned back against the railing, the soft thrum of the engine and the clean, briny sweep of ocean air carving out a space that felt entirely its own. Part workday, part private celebration. Finn bounced at my elbow, life vest snug, the empty tool belt strapped around his waist. He insisted on wearing it whenever possible, especially after he and Chase agreed to build a birdhouse together.
OnLine Dancer, everything had its place. Tackle boxes were sorted by size and species, rods were propped neatly and securely, and Austin’s meticulous touch was visible in the coiled dock lines and polished deck. The air smelled like salt, engine oil, and sunblock. Waves slapped gently at the hull, rocking us just enough that time seemed to slip sideways.
Austin manned the helm, hands wrapped around the wheel, sunglasses perched on his nose. I loved seeing him so relaxed—the infamous wall of silence eased by sunset, water, and family. Out here, he didn’t need to talk much. The boat and the sea did the heavy lifting.
Thank God he hadn’t lost that too.
I fussed with Finn’s hair, fingers tucking loose strands under his cap as he waited not so patiently for his uncle to place the boat where he wanted it so the fishing could begin.
Just then, Austin called over, “All right, Finn. Let’s get this show on the road. Time you learned to cast like you mean it.”
Finn beamed and hurried forward, the tool belt thumping with each step. “Okay, Uncle Austin!”
Austin’s big hands made short work of adjusting the child-sized reel, threading the line through Finn’s fingers. He kneeled, meeting Finn eye to eye, and his frown disappeared, replaced by the quiet patience of someone who’d untangled a thousand lines before.
“See this?” He thumbed the drag, letting Finn feel the tension. “Not too tight. If it screams when you hook something, back off a little. Keep your thumb here, just above the button. The rod’s gotta be an extension of your arm, not a club. Watch me.”
Austin stood and demonstrated with his personal, well-loved rod, his movements unhurried but sure. A flick of the wrist sent the line arcing in a neat parabola before the bait plopped just where he aimed with barely a splash. “You try.”
Finn hefted his rod, tongue poked out in concentration. He glanced at me, and I gave him an encouraging thumbs-up.
“Okay… here goes.”
The first try was a disaster—the line snared and dropped at his feet. Austin, instead of barking, grunted and kneeled again. “Your thumb’s got to be lighter. You’re not launching a rocket. You’re persuading a fish.”
He gently guided Finn’s movements, and the next cast landed four feet out with a gentle plop. Finn looked like he’d just solved quantum physics.
I clapped from my seat. Austin smiled, faint but real. “Not bad, kid. You keep this up, I’ll make you first mate before your mom.”
Finn puffed up with pride. “Can we fish for marlin?”
