As soon as I step aboard, Dean puts me at ease. And to work. Instead of having me sit on the sidelines and do nothing, he takes me through checking all the standing rigging. Matty hobbles around us while he tells me the name for everything, but mostly I just do what he says, trying to concentrate on his instructions instead of the way he leans close to show me what he’s talking about. He seems lighter today. The blue of his eyes bluer. The ends of his hair more sun tipped. That fluid ease surrounds me as he lingers over my shoulder while I make sure the ropes he points to are separated and organized. My attention is so focused on him and the ropes that I don’t notice Dev is standing behind us until he chuckles.

“Be careful you don’t catch it, Ella.” He grins widely and gestures at the ropes with a half-eaten cupcake. Even with the cupcake, there’s something so imposing and massive about him. It’s hard to believe he doesn’t see the reason for the rolling-pin comparison.

“Catch what?” I return my attention to the rope—halyard—worried I’ll mess up.

“Perfectionism. It’s a dirty, dirty disease.”

“Better than negligence.” Dean shoots over his shoulder.

Dev touches his chest. “Me? Negligent?”

Dean shakes his head, that uneven grin pulling up his face. “What’s she doing?” He nods behind Dev to where Renee manages an impressive number of ropes.

Renee set to work just a few minutes after arriving, shrugging out of her sweater and down to a pink bikini top while she works, not seeming to mind the chill breeze. The sun is high overhead and warming up what had been a cooler day, but it’s not exactly balmy. She follows the ropes with her eyes and seems to know what to do with them—some of them finding a neat coil on the deck and others running through winches. She digs some tape out of her pocket and tears off a piece with her teeth.

Dev finishes off the cupcake. “She’s doing my job, apparently.”

“Dev,” Dean says sharply.

“She’s just taping. Anyone can do that.” He waves a hand as he turns around. “I’ll go double-check everything.” Dev takes a few long strides across the deck and reaches Renee, who doesn’t smile when she looks up at him. Although not smiling seems to require effort because she purses her lips. Something I never see her do.

Dean stares after Dev for a moment. When he turns back, he raises an eyebrow. “Your sister knows how to sail.”

“She’s been taking lessons,” I say. “It’s the whole reason she works at Salt’s. Oh, wait…” I wince. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. Can you keep that between us?”

“Of course.” The edge of his lip ticks up. “I’ll endeavor to be worthy of your trust.”

I blink. “Well, I’m not sure I needed that level of commitment. But, um, thanks.”

Dean leaves me for a few minutes to show something to Kepler, who has asked about a thousand questions about the force and purpose of each sail. Dean answers most of them easily, and they seem to be hitting it off even though Kepler’s got this intense feeling of aloofness about him. But it doesn’t seem to bother Dean. Nothing seems to bother Dean, actually. Not like Sebastian, who’s at the front of the boat in a deep conversation with Jean. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but Sebastian crosses his arms over his chest as Jean talks, that cleft in his chin getting deeper by the second.

I look away, feeling like I’m intruding for some reason, and step back to observe my work. When Dean finally breaks away from Kepler, he heads straight for me.

“I like this,” I admit. “I like getting everything set. It’s like working in the bakery and organizing everything for the oven.” And I love this sexy sailor side to him.

“Then I hate to tell you that you did it wrong.” He moves so he’s standing behind me, and takes the line from my fingers. His arms circle me, and I’m caught against his chest. “See that one? It’s pulling.”

He points up, and I follow his gesture to the wood and ropes above us.

“No.” I squint my eyes, trying to see what he’s saying and ignore the way I’m pressed against his hard chest. “I can’t see it.”

His low laugh tickles my throat. “That’s because it’s perfect.” He steps back from me, and I turn to see him grinning.

“Are you trying to confuse your student?”

Those blue eyes flare with heat for a moment. “I’ll do what I have to do.”

Oh, uh…

“Dean?” Dev calls. “Are we going or not?”

“Yeah,” he says. “You take her.”

When we clear the harbor, the boat picks up speed and I lose my breath. Light spray arcs onto the deck, and I laugh when it hits my face. The shift of the boat makes me stumble, but Dean wraps his arms around my waist and keeps me steady, my back pressed into his chest and my face to the horizon. I realize that he told Dev to take her out so that he could be with me.

Matty’s got a seatbelt under deck, but everyone else is up top with us. All somewhere behind us where I can’t see them.

The cool spray dries as soon as it hits my skin. I’m so breathless I can’t laugh. I don’t know if wind is the thief or if it was stolen by the gray beauty of the water and the rippling of the sails. Or perhaps by the man clasping me to his chest.

Dean calls to Dev, but the breeze whips his words away. He walks me backward until he rests against a ledge under the helm, with one hand clamped around the wooden railing. His other tucks me against his hips. The sail above us snaps into a sharp triangle, the slack gone.

I turn my head to find those blue eyes looking down at me. “What did you say to him?”

“I told him to open it up.” Just as the words pass his lips, we hit another wave. The boat leaps forward so hard there’s a moment of weightlessness, like gravity forgot how to work, and we’re suspended with the world on pause. Then the boat hits, and little rainbows crash on the deck at the same time I fall against Dean.

He grunts with the impact. I pull away from him, but he tugs me back.

“Hold on,” he says into my ear. “That’s not even close to what she can do. I should have put you in a life jacket.”

But then I wouldn’t be able to settle against him. Feel the shift from weightless to crashing as I fall into him. His brace and exhale when I tumble into his chest. The spray curls over the edges of the boat. I hold on to his arm for so long that my fingers numb. I regret when we slow—I could do that forever.

“You good?” Dean says as soon as we can talk over the wind. The way he says it—soft and focused, makes every part of me tingle. I don’t have enough air to do anything but gasp and nod.

“I forget how fast she can go,” he says. “We don’t get to do that with our usual passenger roster of sixty-year-old women pointing cameras at husbands who complain about wearing life jackets because they served in the Navy before I was born.”

I turn to face him, and his gaze flicks up to my hair. Which is pretty much the only thing that can get me to blush from head to toe. The mess is a halo that bounces away from my fingers when I attempt to untangle it.

He smiles up at the mess. “I like it.”

I give up my attempt to tame my hair. Even if I got it organized, it would just tangle again. “Well, we’re doing that fast-against-the-waves thing again today, right?”

“As many times as you want.” His voice is so low that I have to read his lips, and I realize how closely I’m pressed against him.

It’s different here with him. He’s like wind tugging on a kite, lifting me up to my toes. I press a kiss against his cheek, and he pulls me roughly against him. I wish it was just the two of us. His hand slides down over my hip, his gaze flaring with heat again. Could I kiss him? Would he want me to?

“Dean,” Dev calls from behind him.

“What?” Dean shoots over his shoulder, not hiding the annoyance in his voice.

Dev points away from the sun, toward a spot far off on the horizon. I squint, trying to see what he’s pointing at. A mist of air and water launches up. It’s followed by a wide tail.

“A whale?” I bounce on my toes.

“It’s a humpback.” Dean grins.

I squint at the water. “How do you know?”

“The shape of the spout. Trust me, I follow them around all spring.” He tugs me close to him. “Hold on.”

“Why?”

“We’re about to change direction.” As soon as the word leaves his mouth, the boom flies to the other side with a force that makes the whole boat shift.

“Holy crap,” I manage as Dean moves to secure it.

I try to steady on the ship the same way he does, but I’m a stumbling idiot whose feet aren’t correctly attached.

Dean sees everything. Every little movement of the sails. He sees it all in detail. His exacting nature surprises me—especially with the haphazard brush strokes I saw earlier when passing by the now sage-green ticket hut. But when it comes to sailing, Dev is right. Dean is a perfectionist. When he moves across the ship, he never backtracks. Never takes a meandering line. His movements are sure and quick, and when he’s done, he stands almost motionless, as if part of the wood and canvas himself.

After everything is set, Dean leads me up to the helm. Dev jumps down, and Dean pulls me in front of the wheel. “Your turn.”

“Are you sure? What if I wreck us?”

He takes my hand and sets it against the polished wood. “There’s not much to crash into out here.” He points starboard. “Besides the whale.”

I set my other hand on the wheel. Two and ten like my brother taught me the one time I attempted to drive a car.

“Go ahead,” Dean says.

“I don’t know where to go.”

“Generally, that direction.” Dean points off toward the slight left.

I turn the wheel a fraction of an inch. The wood vibrates under my hand. There’s something so powerful about controlling it—telling a beautiful giant what to do. “I get why you like this.”

Dean’s gaze travels along the horizon. “Who wouldn’t?” There’s something hard in his voice.

I wrap my hands around the wheel. “If you could do anything right now, what would it be?”

Dean shakes his head. “I’m doing what I want to do. The Heroine is one of the most stunning boats I’ve ever sailed.” He sets his hand on top of mine and moves the wheel. A moment later, the boat responds. “There are people who would give up everything to get what’s been handed to me. It’s a dream, pure and simple.”

The boat slides along, an occasional spray reaching over the sides.

“You didn’t really answer my question.” I lean closer so he can hear me. “What would you do?”

He smiles a little, taking his hand away from mine.

“I’d keep going,” he says. “If I really had a choice, I’d just keep going.”

He wants to leave. If he had his choice, he’d vanish into the ocean. Disappear.

Just like Anthony.

I swallow a tremble. My thoughts are selfish.

He points to the left. “We’re closer to the whale now. See how the school of fish she’s following colors the water? Keep your eyes that way.”

The boat carves through the water, slower than before. But steadily. We’re not going straight toward the whale, but on an intercept course. Although Dean slows before we get too close.

Another spray goes up, and Dean releases a wrench and the sail slacks.

Renee darts across the boat and whips out her phone. Dev crosses to stand with her, holding onto the back of her jeans as she leans over the edge to take pictures.

The whale breaches the surface. Its tail arcs out of the water as it crests next to us. Like we’re swimming together. It leaps, somehow all of that huge silvery body flying over a wave. I hold my breath as it splashes down. The water displacement is enough to rock the Heroine. Dean shies the boat away from the whale before resuming the parallel path.

“I think it’s looking at us,” I say.

“How could it not be?” He points up at the masts. The sun bounces off the sails, transforming them into something more than just white fabric. A timeless ship racing next to a timeless creature. I wish we could follow it forever. Free of everything behind us. Free from that growing tangle in my stomach whenever I think about Benny and my mother and Anthony. Like a knot that will keep tightening until the rope snaps.

Maybe that’s why Dean wants to leave. I can’t fault him for that.

I slip my hand into his. “No one has given me a day before. Thank you.”

He grins down at me. “I’ll give you another.”

“Can you?” I blurt it before I fully form the thought. But away from Portage and all the confusing questions about my mother and Benny, there’s a weight on my chest when I think about going back to it.

His forehead wrinkles. “What do you mean?”

“Tomorrow’s my morning off at the bakery. Renee doesn’t work until afternoon, and I know she’ll jump at staying on the boat. I don’t know what you have scheduled—”

“Nothing until afternoon.”

She bites her bottom lip, looking up at me. “Can we just… not go back tonight?”