Shaking my head, I try to dispel the image of Shiloh reclined back on his elbows, chest bare and adolescent-thin, beach sand clinging to lines of ropy muscle. Even then, he’d been strong—built from a childhood spent on a lobster boat with his dad. He’d grown up faster than I had, and boy, had I noticed. I clear my throat.
“I’ll catch up with him later,” I tell Jean evasively. She givesme a knowing look but doesn’t press.
“Well, don’t be a stranger.” She punctuates this with a firm squeeze of my arm before taking a step back toward the counter and her sister. “Shiloh’s over at the old Franklin place, near Naiad Cove.”
“Okay,” I reply, trying to sound like I’m a person whom this information means little to.
After saying my goodbyes to Braxton, I leave the coffee shop, double-fisting Yooan’s order and feeling like maybe that’s enough socialization for the day. Maybe I’ll start slow—one person from the past per day. I’ll save Shiloh for last, because that means the town chisme will have done most of the heavy lifting for me. Also, because I’m a coward.
But in the way of small towns and the rarity of interesting happenings, things don’t go my way. Twice on the short—but somehow dismally long—walk back to my cottage, cars pull over to the sidewalk, and I’m hailed by a familiar face. I feel as though I’m walking through the pages of a yearbook, comparing how I remember everyone to how they look now, aged seven years. Even when my rental is in sight, there is no reprieve. I turn the corner and see Amy Libby sitting on the step, back to the door of Kelpie Kottage and a smile on her face.
“It really is you!” she exclaims, hopping up and hugging me. It’s the fourth I’ve received already this morning, along with the three handshakes and backslaps. Vacation has truly never been as laborious as this.
Finally—fuckingfinally—I get inside and lean my back against the closed door. Despite having chugged two large cupsof coffee on the walk back, my throat feels dry from all the talking. Worse, my brain feels like someone reached into my skull and squeezed it in their fist.
“Welcome home,” I whisper into the empty cottage, feeling lonelier than I’ve felt in a long, long time.
Chapter Four
SHILOH
The wharf is busier than usual as we bring the boat in. I look over toward Roy’s slip and find it empty. Oddly, I’m relieved. It wasn’t a great day on the water, and I’m tired. Sometimes, spending time with Roy ends up feeling like more trouble than it’s worth, and today, I simply cannot make the effort.
“What’s going on?” Oliver wonders, eyeing the crowd on the pier.
“Don’t know,” Nils replies, dark hair falling over his face as he deals with the mooring lines. Oliver looks to me instead, and I shrug. I don’t know what’s going on either, but I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. Gossip finds everyone in Siren’s Point, no matter how hard you work to avoid it.
“You guys can head out,” I tell Nils and Oliver, swiping an arm over my forehead, skin rough with salt and sweat. Oliverlooks excited by the early release, glancing over at Nils.
“I’ll stay,” Nils replies.
“Me too,” Oliver agrees immediately.
I don’t argue. If the pair of them don’t have anything better to do on a Friday evening than clean a lobster boat, I can hardly give them a hard time. I don’t either.
Oliver, as he usually does, keeps up a steady stream of chatting, singing, and humming while we clean. Nils and I, as we usually do, stay quiet and let him go about filling the silence. It’s nice, which is still surprising to me after nearly a year working with him. Nils and I have worked together for so long, after a single day on the boat with Oliver, I’d wondered if I’d made a mistake. He seems to be physically incapable of being quiet. Nils, as the flip side of that coin, says so few words that sometimes I forget the sound of his voice. But Oliver managed to fit himself in, and I don’t want to imagine a day where he might want to move on. A good day on the boat sounds like ocean waves, the call of seabirds, and Oliver singing the chorus of “Uptown Girl” over and over again because he doesn’t know any other lyrics.
It’s not until the three of us are walking up the pier to our cars that Dryden Roy’sMaiden Seascomes into view out in the bay. I pause, my feet automatically stopping before my brain can decide what it wants to do. Nils, who doesn’t care about what anyone else is doing ever, keeps walking. Oliver, glancing between the two of us, takes a couple of hesitant steps in Nils’ direction but keeps his eyes on me.
“You coming?” he asks. Sighing, I watch the boat comingcloser. He might need help cleaning up, and he’s done nothing to me to earn a cold shoulder.
“Nah, you go on. I’m going to check in with Roy.”
Oliver smiles carefully. “Okay, well…see you Monday.”
“Have a good night.”
Running my hands through my hair, I make my way over to where Roy is bringing theMaidenin. His sternman waves when he catches sight of me, waiting on the pier. I feel awkward as all hell, standing there watching, waiting for Roy to approach.
“Hey,” he says once he gets close enough for us to talk. Squinting up at me, one corner of his mouth tips into a smile. It’s a handsome smile, to go along with the rest of his handsome face. I wish I cared more than I do.
“Hey. Need help?” I offer.
He stares at me for so long, I wonder if the sun is obscuring too much of my face for him to get a good look. After a minute, he declines with a soft “No. We’re good, Loh.”
The nickname, which so rarely comes out to play, makes me pause. If he’s trying to tell me something, he’s going to have to say it outright. I’ve never been, nor will I ever be, the guy who can wade through coy signals and pluck out the correct course of action.
“Okay. See you.” I raise a hand in goodbye to his sternman before turning and striding toward my truck.
