The ocean.
It wasn't perfect.
Nothing ever was.
But it was ours.
I looked toward the harbor entrance where the first rays of sunlight danced across the water.
Grandpa had always insisted on one family tradition.
Whenever a Sinclair yacht left the dock, someone stayed behind until she disappeared beyond the horizon.
"No one in this family sails away without knowing someone will be waiting when they come home."
I hadn't missed a single departure since the day we lost Dad.
And I never would.
A black SUV rolled into the marina parking lot.
Then another.
Six men climbed out.
Duffel bags slung over broad shoulders.
Laughing.
Shoving each other.
One of them called across the parking lot.
"So..."
The tallest one groaned.
"Don't."
"You still have time to fake your own death."
Laughter erupted from the group.
Even from the man they were teasing.
But something caught my attention.
He smiled.
His eyes didn't.
I took another sip of coffee.
Without realizing it...
I kept watching him.
48
