I pace the dock until the Heroine appears on the horizon. I’m not sure what I’m going to tell Dean, but I need to tell him something. And my hands haven’t stopped shaking since the call with Carly. I’d been calmer when she gave us the news, almost in a trance, but since then a panic has settled deep within me, threatening to rattle me apart if I let it.

This can’t be happening.

She’ll try to come here. I’m sure of it.

What if she makes it here? What will she do?

I know one thing very clearly: whatever happens, I need to keep her away from Dean.

Probably away from Charles too. But my focus is more centered on the man who smiles at me from the deck of the Heroine. He jumps over and walks to me, leaving Dev and Renee to tie the boat off.

The boat. If she comes here, it’ll be the first thing she sees. Charles’s boat.

He catches me in his arms, pulling me up to my toes before planting a kiss on my cheek. My heart jumps into my throat.

I have to keep him safe.

“This is a surprise.” He grins down at me. “I thought you’d be over your head in festival activities.”

“It’s busy.” I give him a weak smile. “I mean, Anthony and I are busy. And I’m sure you are too.”

His forehead wrinkles. “Is everything okay?”

“I…” I should have planned this better. “I need you to do a favor for me.”

“Name it.” He steps back, tilting his head as he looks at me. He’s zeroing in on something, and I fidget, clasping my hands in front of me.

“If I told you that we needed to spend a few days apart, that would be okay, right?”

The lines in his forehead deepen. “Come on, El. Don’t talk around it. Tell me what you want.” He reaches out to take my hand, but I sidestep away.

What if she’s here now? The thought hits me with such force. What if she’s already here and watching me?

He stills. “Okay, Ella. You really need to tell me what’s going on. The truth. Because you’re starting to worry me. Whatever this is, we can get through it together.”

“No,” I whisper. “We can’t. It’s my mother. She escaped, and she’s probably on her way here.”

“Fuck.” His shoulders go rigid as he blinks at me. Then he reaches out to grab my hand. “What do you need?”

I step away from him again. “I n-need you to leave. Take the Heroine and just leave for a few days.”

His eyes darken as he stares down at me. “I’m not going to leave you. If you want to leave, then fine. We’ll get on that boat. Together.”

I shake my head. “I can’t leave Anthony—”

“Then he’ll come too.” He keeps stepping forward, keeps trying to pull me against him. And every part of me wants to sink into him, but I can’t let myself. “It’s a big fucking boat. And it can go almost anywhere.”

“And I can’t leave the festival. I can’t run.” The thing that I’ve done for so long. Run. Hide. Pretend you don’t exist. “I won’t be a scared little girl in a closet. I’ll be fine, but you can’t be with me.”

“No.” His stance widens, that jaw ticking as he stares down at me.

“This is not a game, Dean.” He doesn’t understand. I have to make him understand somehow.

His expression darkens, falling into something stormy that I’ve never seen.

“I know it’s not a game,” he says evenly. “That’s why I’m sure. I’m not going to let you stand there alone. I’m going to be right there next to you. Every step of the way.”

He doesn’t know what she’s capable of. And now she has a gun. Which isn’t syringes and handcuffs and knives and things that take time. Guns are sudden. One second—one quick decision—and Dean could be gone.

It tears me apart that we’re having this argument. On the off chance that she makes it here. But I know that I’m right about this. Everything I have vibrates with certainty.

Keeping him safe means keeping him away from me. My mother won’t discard me or Anthony or Renee, but she’d throw the son of Charles Archer away in a flash. I have no doubt she would hurt the son of a man who hurt her.

“You can’t always be my hero.” I bite down on my bottom lip until I taste blood. “I’m telling you to s-stay away from me.”

He flinches. “Are you breaking up with me again?”

Oh, God. No. My thoughts revolt, but I stop them before they spill from my lips. If that’s what it takes to make him stay away from me, then that’s what I’ll do.

“Don’t do this.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “Don’t walk away from me. You’re letting your fear of her control you. Just trust me, and we’ll figure this out together.” Hair tipped blond by the sun. Lemon and cedar. I imagine that if the breeze had a scent, it would be him. His pull is almost too hard to resist. “I need you to trust me.”

“I told you I didn’t need a hero, and I don’t.” My throat closes around the words.

“No. That’s not—”

“Anchor,” I say. Then I turn and force myself to walk away from him.

Anchor.

My veins are live wires—all connected together and all snapping at the same time. She broke up with me again. I know that’s not the most important part of our conversation, but that’s the part that just about ripped me apart.

I asked for her trust. Asked to be her hero. And she rejected me.

I thought we’d moved beyond this. That we’d been going somewhere over the last weeks. Together. Learning to trust each other. Not running off from each other alone.

A woman from the family we took out today walks up to me, smiling. Saying something about how lovely the day was.

She’s right. It was a pretty damn good day. I woke up next to Ella and walked her to the bakery. She rambled about the festival the whole way, and I was excited for her. I knew that everything was going to work out. For once, I didn’t feel any clouds looming on the horizon.

And then the world got yanked out from underneath me.

The woman keeps talking, but I just turn and walk around her. It’s a dick thing to do, but if I open my mouth, I’ll say something worse than just walking away. And I’ve got about a million thoughts to sort out.

Not the least of which is… Mira Jacobs escaped? I’ve got to get over this sparking anger—and the pain that’s likely lingering underneath—so I can focus on that.

Focus on doing whatever the fuck I need to do to make sure that Ella is safe. She thinks we can’t do it together, fine. But I’m still going to do it. Because whether she wants it or not, I am her hero. And that’s a role I refuse to give up until I know that she’s okay.

I cross the deck and stop in front of Renee. If I can’t be there for Ella, then I’ll help someone else do that.

“Ella needs a friend.” I take the brush she’s using to clean the topsides. “I’ll finish.”

She blinks up at me. “What?”

“Go.” The word’s not more than a growl, but I’m not capable of explaining. The live wires are shooting down my arm and into the brush that my fingers clench.

“Dean? What happened?” Renee stares up at me, wide-eyed.

“Fucking go.” I yell at her, jabbing the brush toward the Harborwalk. She flinches, and I turn away, setting to work on the deck, ignoring her until she grabs her stuff from below and then takes off down the dock, already talking on her phone.

I could put off cleaning until tomorrow, but the truth is that focusing on the details is helping to calm me down. I know I owe Renee an apology, but I can’t even think past my anger enough to figure out how to do that yet. I just need to work through it. Somehow. So I focus on the task before me. A task I can actually complete.

Until Dev steps in my way. “What’s going on, man?”

“I don’t think you want to know.” I keep scrubbing.

“Fuck that.” He shoves me in the shoulder, and I look up with a murderous glare.

He points toward the hatch. “Drink in the galley. Now.”