BITING INTO THE RIPE STRAWBERRY, I moaned as the sweet juice hit my tongue. “Terri, you are too good to me. These are amazing.”
She smiled quickly before turning back toward the kitchen counter. “It’s all in the soil,” she said, shrugging.
“Well, whatever it is, you’ve got it in spades. I’m lucky to keep herbs and house plants alive.”
“You do well with what you got,” she replied, her thick familiar accent brining a smile to my face.
I nodded, watching as she packaged up all my purchases. Terri had been my go-to for fresh, local produce for well over a year now. After taking over the family business, a cozy inn my parents had inherited from my mother’s side of the family, I’d found this wonderful old lady and friend with the bright green thumb was truly the key to my success.
“Anything else for you today?” she asked as we sat at her kitchen table drinking homemade sweet tea.
I looked around, trying to remind myself to think with my brain, not my stomach.
“Maybe some peaches?” I said, my mind suddenly whipping up heavenly visions of peach cobbler fresh from the oven.
“You know, Greta over on Ocean View carries pretty good produce. Fresh, too.”
I nodded. “Yes, but she’s not you. And, besides, who would you talk to if I didn’t come and visit?”
She just shook her head, bagging up a few jars of peach preserves since fresh peaches wouldn’t be in season for another few months. “It’s a wonder how your guests don’t roll out of that place when they’re done.”
“Some of them do,” I answered with a laugh.
“Business still good?” she asked.
I began writing her a check for the exact amount I owed. I’d once tried to add a tip to her total, knowing for a fact that she seriously undercharged me, and she’d ripped the check in half, right in front of me, saying I wasn’t doing her any favors.
At least, not with my money.
I made it up to her, running errands and weeding her flowers from time to time.
Whatever I could do to keep that old woman going.
“It’s great actually,” I replied. “Mama and Daddy are amazed at the progress I’ve made since taking charge.”
“Well, it’s no surprise to me,” she answered.
I grabbed several of the sacks from the table before she could. She let it go, just shaking her head, as we walked out the front door and toward my car.
I lifted the tailgate, and she waited as I filled the back with more fruits and vegetables than most people ate in a month.
Too bad it would last me only a week. Two, tops.
“You’ve always had a knack for that place. Saw it years ago when you came here for fresh lemons, pigtails down your back and tiny freckles under your eyes. Even then, you knew how to take care of those guests. Better than your parents, I’d wager.”
I shied away from the compliment. I was never able to take one without feeling uncomfortable. To me, taking care of people always came easily. After I’d grown up in a house filled with strangers, it could have honestly gone either way. But I had seen the joy my parents had in it.
How all their hard work had seemed entirely worth it just to see a person smile at the end of a long day. I had known even then that I was made for this life.
“Thank you, Terri, but I think I still have some work to do when it comes to living up to the legend of my folks. We still have guests coming back year after year, choosing our little place on the water over anywhere else. It’s a true honor.”
“Ah, well, I’m sure they’re proud of you all the same. You’re a good girl,” she said plainly, making me feel like the tiny young thing she’d described moments earlier rather than a grown woman of nearly thirty.
We said our good-byes, and I headed back to the house. Although it was still relatively quiet on the island, I did have a few guests lingering about the property, and I wanted to get a head start on breakfast in the morning.
Pulling up to the house gave me a sense of peace. I might have had an odd sort of childhood, meeting new strangers week after week, but this place, with its weathered gray cedar siding and bright red door, would always be home.
Grabbing the produce from the back of my worn pickup, I headed for the back door, hoping to give my guests time to enjoy their lazy day without me getting in the way.
Being an innkeeper was a tricky business. Too much interaction with those staying in the house, and they felt awkward and out of place. Too little, and…well, pretty much the same outcome. It was a balancing act. One I’d perfected in the year since my parents’ retirement. Not that it stopped them from coming by the house every now and then to check up on things.
And by now and then, I really meant, every day.
Every single day.
Why couldn’t they just have retired to Florida like normal parents and bothered my younger sister for a change?
It had become an ongoing joke between us but one I knew would sting if they ever really did leave. As much as it annoyed me to see their two little gray heads poking about, I knew I’d be lost without them. And, as I rounded the corner into the large kitchen bright with the afternoon sun, I shook my head at my predictable intruders.
“Back so soon?” I said, noticing my mom was already elbow deep in bread dough.
Flour covered the marble countertops as she made it entirely by hand. It was a sight I’d seen hundreds of times in my life.
“Your dad wanted a scone and I knew you’d have some left over from breakfast.” She shrugged, barely glancing in my direction, as she continued to work on the dough, kneading it with care, as she’d done for decades.
I could see the changes, the need for her and my father’s retirement. Mom was slower now as she placed the dough in a clear bowl to rise. There was determination where it had once been second nature. Her hands looked smaller, frailer.
Yet she still showed up, wanting to carry on the tasks she’d reluctantly passed on to me. Neither of them had wanted to move on, and it had taken years of convincing them that I was ready.
But my time was finally here.
I smiled, knowing she was lying through her teeth about my father needing a scone, as I caught a glimpse of him through the window, dangling on the hammock. His eyes were closed, mouth hanging open, as he enjoyed his afternoon nap.
“A scone, huh?” I replied, setting down several jars of jam and the bag of tomatoes I’d bought.
“Yes,” she sighed dramatically as she placed the dough in the industrial-sized refrigerator.
“You know, they have amazing scones at the coffee shop down the road from your cottage, right? And, last time I checked, I don’t seem to recall bread dough as a necessary ingredient.”
She could hear the obvious laughter in my tone and turned around quickly, dirty hands and all.
“Okay, fine,” she admitted. “I wanted to come over and visit, and maybe bake up a loaf of bread. Is it so wrong of me to want to see my eldest daughter? I mean, soon, you’re going to have Dean around here to help with all these things.”
I scrunched my nose, imagining my Dean in my kitchen, trying his hand at baking. “Somehow, I doubt it.”
Grabbing a tea towel, I stepped forward and handed it to her. She looked down, slowly taking it before brushing away the remnants of flour.
“What is this all about, Mom? You can tell me.”
Her gaze firmly remained on the plaid towel as the tip of her finger traced a pattern. “Are you sure you’re making the right choice?” she asked.
My instant response was one of anger, but the moment her blue eyes met my own, I knew she meant well. She always wanted the best for me.
Even if it meant incessantly nagging me about it.
“We’ve been over this, Mama. I know what I’m doing.”
She nodded, but I knew she still had doubts. I could see them forming into words, even before she opened her mouth.
“Are you sure? Because when you’re with him, it’s—“
“It’s what, Mama?”
“It’s like you’re with your best friend,” she sighed.
I got defensive. It wasn’t the first time someone had mentioned it. My sister called me weekly as asked how my BFF was.
“Aren’t you supposed to marry your best friend?” I asked.
“Well, yes baby. Friendship is important in a marriage. But so is heat and passion.”
My arms folded around my waist as I began to turn away.
“What about—”
I held up my hand, immediately cutting her off.
“No, we’re not talking about Jake, Mama. Not again and not anymore. It’s history. It’s been history for well over a decade now.”
“But you know he’ll return now that his father has passed.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m with Dean now. I love Dean. We’ve been together for four years. We’re happy,” I pressed, my mother appearing no less convinced than before. “And, besides, the way Jake tore out of here all those years ago, I doubt we’ll see his face around here again.”
“He was hurt and still grieving his mother,” she explained.
“Jake’s mother died after he started blaming this island for his problems. He just used it as an excuse to walk away. I just hope he’s found whatever he was looking for,” I said, my gaze shifting toward the window where my father slept.
How many times had Jake held me in that hammock? Told me there would never be anyone else—right before he tore out my heart?
“And have you?” my mother asked. “Found what you’ve been looking for?”
I forced my gaze from the window to the woman who’d been by my side my entire life and through every decision, even now, even when she didn’t agree with them.
“Yes, I have,” I answered firmly. “Dean and I have something real and reliable.”
She took my hands in her own, disregarding the flour and dough that remained. “Then, I’m happy for you, Molly. Truly.”
“Thank you, Mama.” I gave a weak smile as I tried to forget the past.
But I couldn’t.
Not here.
Not with his ghost following me around every corner of the house, under every oak tree on the property. Jake was ingrained in the framework of this house just as much as I was.
I’d never be rid of him, no matter how hard I tried.
After finishing several loaves of banana bread and a healthy batch of peach scones for the morning, I wiped down the kitchen and made myself a drink.
Nothing like a good glass of pinot noir after a long day.
Finding a quiet spot in the garden, I leaned back into the comfy lounge chair that was usually occupied by guests, and I soaked in the view.
By the Bay Inn had been in our family for generations. Long before my grandparents had decided to turn the large house into a place for visitors, it’d served as a boarding house for soldiers during the war. I still remembered the stories my grandmother would tell me from her childhood when she had a crush on a different officer every week.
Lucky for my grandfather, a local fisherman in town, none of those crushes had lasted, and they had gotten married soon after he returned from fighting on the front line in Germany.
How romantic it must have been back then.
“Lovely night it’s turning out to be.”
I turned, spotting one of my favorite guests walking up the path toward me. He was an elderly man, here with his wife of fifty years. They’d been regulars since I was a young girl, and it always warmed my heart to see the happy couple return year after year.
After I gestured to the empty chair beside me, I watched him take a seat. “Yes, it is.” I smiled. “Where is your bride, Mr. Lovell? Are you ditching your traditional night of cards to stare out at the stars with me?”
He chuckled, those dull green eyes of his disappearing behind his large cheeks. “Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly do that. My Anne lives for card games. We’ve played at least one hand every day of our marriage. She’s convinced it’s the key to our success.”
“Card games, hmm? Well, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Your mama said you’d found yourself a nice fellow and a local boy? Big day coming soon?”
I nodded. “You remember Dean Sutherland? He used to run around with—well, he’s always been a good friend,” I said, clearing my throat. “We haven’t set a date yet, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, “I remember Dean well. Tall, lanky thing if I remember right.” He chuckled. “Haven’t seen him in ages, has he grown into a decent young man?” he asked, sounding more like a father than a houseguest.
I laughed. “Yes, he’s great—hardworking and loyal.”
He made a sound, something between a grunt and a laugh.
“What?” I asked, glancing over in his direction. I could see a smile creeping up his face as he looked out onto the bay.
“Sounds like you’re describing a dog, not a lover.”
My cheeks reddened. “Mr. Lovell!” I laughed. “I didn’t know you could be so crude.”
“I didn’t know you were such a prude.”
A snort escaped my lips as his smile broke into a deep laugh. The two of us filled the entire backyard with our laughter. Tears were running down my cheeks.
“I just feel sort of responsible for you in a way. You’ve always been special to Anne and me, and I don’t want to see you make the wrong decision. Marriage can be the most wonderful journey a person can take. Or it can be the most devastating. Whom you choose to share this life with truly makes all the difference.”
“And you think my hardworking, loyal fiancé doesn’t fit the bill?” I asked pointedly.
“I can’t say. I haven’t talked to the guy since he was a kid. But, even if I had, it wouldn’t matter what I thought of him. It’s what you think of him that matters. Is he worthy of you? When you look into his eyes, do you see the years melting away? Do you see a lifetime of happiness? Or years of struggle?”
“I-I—” I stammered as his ancient eyes found mine.
There was only one man in my life who had ever made me feel whole.
Not a man, I corrected myself.
A boy.
A boy with unrealistic expectations that had demanded he walk away.
From his home and from me.
“Yes,” I answered. “Yes, I do. See happiness, I mean.”
His gaze continued to bore into mine before a single blink broke our connection.
“Well then, good,” he said softly. “I wish you nothing but the best, and I look forward to visiting you both next year.”
I nodded, bidding him farewell, and he went back inside to find his wife.
No doubt, they’d stay up late into the night, laughing over cards, while the moon rose high in the sky.
When was the last time Dean and I had done something so simple?
I couldn’t remember, but it didn’t matter.
Dean and I had made a life together, one that made sense.
One that would last.
Or at least, that was what I told myself.
But, as I walked back into the house, wine glass emptied long ago, I couldn’t help but remember the boy with the unrealistic expectations.
The boy who had stolen my heart long before I knew it could be claimed.
Was he really coming home?
For the sake of my sanity, I hoped not. I wasn’t sure my heart, the mangled remnants of what he’d left behind, could ever survive another round with Jake Jameson.
Long after the Lovells had retired to their guest room, I found myself wandering the grand house. I lingered in the breakfast room, making sure chairs were tucked in their proper places and the settings were just right. I carried that attention to detail into the sitting room, fluffing pillows and refolding blankets.
It wasn’t like me to primp so much.
I’d been doing this routine for years, well before my name was listed as proprietor. So, why was I so eager now?
Checking the antique clock, I squinted to see the tiny hands.
It was late.
Well past the time when Dean should have checked in. He’d been busy the last few days, grabbing supplies on the mainland as the Sutherlands prepared for an upcoming busy season.
Dean Sutherland was from one of the most well-known families around. Born into a wealthy family who owned a commercial fishing company, he’d had his life planned out for him as clearly as mine had been.
It was why I had been attracted to him in the first place—his dedication to his trade and his family…to this town. It was our common ground. It didn’t hurt that we’d known each other since birth either.
Checking the clock again, I began to feel anxious. Surely, he’d call if he was running late? He always had, so why would today be any different? Realizing I was wearing a path across the floor, I went in search of my cell phone.
I found it on the kitchen counter just as it began to ring.
Taylor Sutherland—Dean’s younger brother.
I answered on the second ring.
“Molly? It’s Taylor.”
I breathed a sigh of relief at hearing Dean’s brother on the other end. They must be running late and Dean was making his brother call to avoid my wrath.
“Hi, Taylor.”
“There’s been an accident. I’m up here at the hospital in Virginia Beach.”
“Virginia Beach? Oh my gosh, are you okay?” I asked, suddenly frightened.
“I’m fine. It wasn’t me, Mols.” There was a deafening pause. “It’s Dean.”
The dreadful feeling I’d had crept back up my spine. “What happened?”
“An explosion on the ferry. They think the engine blew. Several people are dead, and—”
I swallowed audibly. “And Dean?” Tears stung my eyes.
“He’s in surgery now. They’re trying to save his arm. He’s in bad shape Molly.”
My hand flew up to my mouth as sobs tore from my throat. “Oh God, Taylor.”
“Listen,” he said intently, “I’ve arranged for a pilot to fly you up here. The ferry is out of operation until further notice. Do you think you can make it?”
I nodded before answering, “Yes, absolutely.” I wrote down several details—the pilot’s name and where to meet Taylor when we arrived. My mind was going a mile a minute as I operated on autopilot, not giving myself a second to react.
We said our good-byes, and I quickly sprang into action. Calling my parents, I filled them in on Dean.
“I’ll be back by morning to serve breakfast,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes.
“Are you crazy?” my mom said. “Go take care of this. We can watch over things for a day.”
“But—” I tried to argue.
“You don’t have to take care of everything all the time,” she reminded me.
“Okay,” I finally answered.
I hated caving, but I knew she was right. I’d never missed a single morning since I took over the inn but Dean needed me and as hard as it was for me to admit—I needed help.
I quickly thanked them before grabbing a light jacket and keys to my pickup. I drove as tears streaked my face, the reality of the situation finally kicking in as I willed myself to pay attention to navigating the dark roads.
Finally, I arrived at the local airport. Like most things in Ocracoke, it was ridiculously small. After stepping out of the car, I was greeted by a man Taylor had mentioned. I recognized him instantly from countless encounters on the island. I often recommended his scenic tours to my guests. While we had many adventures to partake in across the island, nothing was as beautiful as seeing it from the air.
I had a feeling it wouldn’t elicit the same feelings at night, especially under these circumstances.
“Good to see you Molly,” the pilot said, slightly yelling over the engine noise.
I simply nodded.
“I’m going to take us to Norfolk, and someone should be picking you up from there, correct?”
I confirmed the details before we boarded the small prop plane. My nerves got the best of me as I took one of the few passenger seats. A woman I didn’t recognize was sitting nearby.
“My name is Marin,” she said, holding out her hand.
I took it, giving it a light squeeze. “Molly.”
“Are you—I mean, do you…know someone on the ferry?”
“Yes. My fiancé,” I managed to say.
She looked down, a single tear falling from her cheek. “My husband,” she replied. “He travels a lot for work. This was supposed to be our anniversary weekend, but he got stuck at the airport and missed his flight. I was so mad,” she said, shaking her head. “I yelled at him on the phone. Can you believe that? I yelled.”
I didn’t bother to respond. I could tell by her demeanor that she wasn’t talking for my benefit.
In her mind, she was confessing her sins.
“He left the airport and rented a car, drove all evening just to catch the last ferry. For me.”
I unbuckled my seat belt, taking the spot next to her. Grabbing her hand, I said nothing. Just simply held it as we sat in silence, sending up prayers to the heavens.
The flight itself didn’t take long, although it felt like a lifetime. Marin and I held on to each other for support, and I offered her a ride to the hospital when we landed, knowing Taylor wouldn’t mind in the least.
“Thank you,” she replied.
Taylor managed to arrive just as we deplaned, giving me a big bear hug the moment we reached each other.
“How is he?” I asked, seeing the pain in his eyes over his older brother.
“We don’t know yet. He was still in surgery when I left to pick you up.”
Arm in arm, we walked to the car as I introduced Taylor to my new friend. His eyes lingered on her as understanding blossomed. We were all in this together.
Local, tourist, brother, friend—none of it mattered when lives were on the line.
The ride to the hospital was quiet. None of us felt much like speaking.
Honestly, I thought we all felt a little numb.
Numb to what was happening, numb to what we might discover.
Just cold, hollow, and numb.
My hands shook as I opened the passenger door, seeing the flashing lights outside the emergency room. The air smelled salty and familiar, reminding me of summers long gone. My family had once vacationed in Virginia Beach, just to see how different it was from our own little island.
It was the last beach vacation we took.
I remembered, on the way back home, my father had said, “Why go to the beach when we have one in our backyard?”
I brushed back my unruly blonde hair, but the breeze threw it back in my face. Dean loved playing with my hair. One night, over a bottle of wine, I’d even taught him how to braid it while we stayed up late playing board games.
“You need to know this,” I said.
“Oh? And why is that?” he asked, his husky voice betraying the amusement in his eyes.
“Because, one day, you might find yourself with a darling daughter with hair just like mine, and being the princess she is, she’ll demand it be taken care of.”
“Hair just like yours, huh?”
I turned to him, smiling. “Just like mine.”
It was the first time we’d talked about kids.
It was the first time we’d talked about anything beyond that night.
I’d thought he’d run away, scared, but he never did.
Instead, he’d gotten down on one knee the following morning and asked me to marry him, just like that. That was how our relationship had been from that moment on, easy and uncomplicated.
I’d thought we’d have forever to get to know each other like that. Like lovers rather than longtime friends. But, now, all that was up in the air. So fleeting.
Everything was a blur the moment we entered the hospital. I said my good-byes to Marin as she dashed to the front desk, seeking answers. As I followed Taylor back to the waiting room they had especially for the surgical wing, I couldn’t help but notice the faces around me.
No one had routine surgery this late at night.
There were tears, families huddled in prayer, and tired, confused children who had been ripped from their beds. Some, I recognized. Neighbors and friends from town.
I wasn’t the only one who’d made it off the island to be here for someone. Surely, I wouldn’t be the last. Once news spread, every boat and plane would be put to use, carrying people back and forth. Those tourists stranded on the island would be helped, either given shelter or a way back home.
We never left anyone behind.
Most of Dean’s family was together in that small room, hunched tightly in the corner as they awaited news.
Dean’s mother, Dottie, gave me a hug. “So glad you could make it,” she said, her distinctive Ocracoke brogue standing out against all the other voices.
“I’m thankful for the arrangements,” I replied, holding her in my arms.
I’d known Dean’s family for as long as I could remember. Everyone had. I used to ride past their large house on my ten-speed, wondering what it looked like. Eventually, I’d discovered what lay inside. It hadn’t taken long. Once school had started, the three of us—Dean, Jake, and I—had become inseparable.
It’d turned out, the Sutherland house was just that—an ordinary house. Nothing as extravagant as my young mind had dreamed up, but it was lovely all the same.
Sometimes, I wished I’d never stepped foot inside. Then, the mystery and magic of the place would still remain.
But life had a way of letting us down sometimes.
We grew up and lost the magic of our youth.
We suffered loss.
I only prayed that day wasn’t upon me.
I didn’t know how long we sat there, waiting for an update. Dottie explained the surgeons were trying to repair Dean’s arm.
To save it.
“And if they can’t?” I asked, scared to hear the answer.
“Then, we will be there for him,” she simply said.
I wanted to ask all sorts of questions, but instead, I fell silent.
No one knew any more than I did.
Finally, a doctor entered the room and calmly called out for us, “The family of Dean Sutherland?” He was still dressed in his scrubs and booties.
“Here!” Taylor said, holding a hand in the air.
We met him halfway, eager for information, but his face said it all.
“We did all we could to save his arm,” he announced regretfully. “But nothing could be done. The damage was too severe.”
My heart sank.
“Is he okay?” Dottie asked, grabbing my hand.
“Yes, he’ll recover. Although it will take time. He has a broken ankle as well, probably from the initial blow that severed his arm. He’ll need to remain in the hospital for a week or two to heal, but eventually, we should be able to transfer him down to The Outer Banks Hospital for physical and occupational therapy, so he’s closer to home. There he’ll learn how to live as an amputee.” He paused to let that all settle. “It’s going to be an adjustment. For everyone.”
Amputee.
The word seemed so foreign to me. Thinking of it brought up images of wounded soldiers and veterans from wars long ago. But, to hear it now, it felt unreal and wrong. Surely, my fisherman fiancé, so normal and unassuming, couldn’t possibly be an amputee. He had so much more to do.
We both did.
“When can we see him?” Taylor asked.
“He’s still coming out of anesthesia, but I can allow one of you in to see him if you’d like.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I said, shaking his hand.
He nodded before instructing us on where to go.
“I’ll wait here,” I said, assuming Dean’s mother would go.
“No,” she replied. “We think you should be the one to see him,” she explained, placing a loving hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be a blubbering mess if I go and right now, he needs strength.”
I gulped loudly, agreeing to her instructions.
In the Sutherland house, Dottie was the head of the hardheaded family, and I’d learned very quickly that whatever she said was law. I always admired that courage within her, assuming it had come from her need to be a mother and father after her husband passed.
But, now, I just ached for it. Ached for the calm resilience she wore. Ached for the knowledge that everything would work itself out even though my every thought screamed something else entirely.
After saying a few good-byes to those still waiting for news on their loved ones, I journeyed down the long hallway until I found my way.
I checked in with a nurse, and she escorted me through double doors to where Dean was recovering. My hands shook as we approached, as I was unsure of how I’d react to seeing him so frail and weak.
He’d always been larger than life.
“He’s still asleep,” the nurse announced. “But feel free to take his hand and let him know you’re here.”
“Will he be able to hear me?” I questioned as I followed her into the room.
Several other nurses were around, but I barely noticed them.
All I saw was Dean.
“Honestly, I don’t know, but I like to believe so,” she replied before ushering me over to him.
A quiet sob tore through my chest.
He was battered and bruised but clean, hooked up to several monitors with wires everywhere. The cuts and gashes on his chest and legs had been bandaged and cared for, his ankle set in a cast.
I couldn’t look.
I wasn’t ready.
But I had to.
I had to be strong for him.
Fighting back tears, I took a step forward and grabbed his left hand, his only hand.
“Hi, it’s me,” I said lamely, not knowing what else to do. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I wanted to let you know, I’m here for you. We all are.”
I took a deep breath. “I made your favorite today,” I said, sort of rambling, forgetting that it was well past midnight and a completely new day. “Peach scones. Mr. Lovell loves them, too. I think I forgot to mention, he and his wife were visiting this week. They’re some of our regulars. You may remember them from way back. Anyway, he asked about you—or about my fellow, as he phrased it. He wanted to know if you were worthy of me—or maybe vice versa. I don’t know. Anyway, I’m not sure why I said that. Maybe I should just shut up.”
“No, keep going.”
My body froze instantly. Even after a decade, I recognized the rough cadence of the voice behind me, and who it belonged to. I remembered every word he’d said to me. From the shy hello in the schoolyard when we were no older than five to the unrelenting determination as he’d promised me the stars.
My breath faltered.
“Jake,” I breathed out in a whisper.
A hundred different memories flooded my mind all at once as I fought to turn around. The first time I saw him—not the boy who had pulled my hair and called me names, but a man, full of possibilities and purpose. Our first kiss—an awkward meeting of lips that still, to this day, made my stomach flip every time I thought of it.
Broken promises and heartache as I’d watched him walk away, knowing I’d never be enough for him.
Squeezing Dean’s hand one last time, I took a deep breath, steadied my thoughts, and turned around. At first, I was almost surprised by how much he’d changed. Dark blue scrubs covered his tall, lean body. His dark brown hair was shorter, and there was definite stubble across his chin and jaw.
But he was still there.
The boy with eyes as blue as the sea and a heart as big as the ocean.
“He’s stable,” he finally said, his voice taking on a professional quality that I recognized from whenever I’d visited his father at the clinic. “The surgeon who tried to save his arm, he was good; I can vouch for that. But it was just too late after the amount of time it had taken the paramedics to reach us,” he said, letting out a deep breath. “There was nothing he could do.”
“Us?” I asked in confusion.
“Dean and I were on the ferry together. We sort of ran into each other beforehand. I’m here for my father’s funeral. He left me his practice,” he explained.
“Are you okay?” I asked, taking a step in his direction before stopping myself.
Before remembering who I was.
Who he was.
He held up a hand of reassurance. “I’m fine. I don’t know how or why, but other than a few bruised ribs and some superficial cuts and scrapes, I got out of there nearly unscathed.”
“Lucky you.” I deadpanned.
My attention returned to the man next to me—my fiancé, who’d just come out of surgery and who would spend the rest of his life without the use of one of his arms.
“Well, thank you for assuring me that he was well taken care of. I appreciate it.”
All my focus shifted back to Dean. My hand rested atop his as Jake moved closer. I could feel the heat of him, smell the smoke that still clung to his skin.
“Mols, I—”
I simply shook my head. “No,” I whispered. “Not here, not now, Jake.”
Not ever, I failed to say.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” he said, stepping away from the bed where Dean lay still. “Congratulations by the way. In the short time we spent together, I could see he was happy. I’m sure you had something to do with that.”
I turned, seeing his tall frame hovering by the door. The light from above seemed to highlight every cut and scrape on his body, reminding me of how close they’d both been to death.
“Thank you,” I said, unable to meet his intense gaze.
As I turned back toward Dean, I heard the door click closed.
The sound of it was like the cracking of a dam in my rigid demeanor.
I hunched over my fiancé and wept.
Wept in thanks to God above for saving him.
Wept for the loss of his independence and all it would mean for the future.
And as selfish as it was, I wept for Jake…and all that could have been.