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I called my brother, cradling the phone between my shoulder and ear as I carefully tended the plants one last time. “Okay, Hunter. I’ve found my blooms.”
“Excellent. Place them outside by six a.m., no sooner. I’ll be down by then.”
“Six in the morning?” I grumbled, lifting my hand to prop it on my hip. “You know I work until after midnight, right?”
“Oh, cry me a river. I’m the one driving from South Beach, remember? I’ll be up by two.” He laughed, and it was good to hear the lightness in his voice. It only served to remind me how rare it was to hear his laugh.
“All right. You win.” I managed a smile even though he couldn’t see it. “I promise they’ll be in place first thing.”
After I hung up, I went back to finish my shift, which passed quickly and without drama, thank God. Shooing out the rest of the staff, I collected my two beautiful orchids and set them on the counter next to the back entrance. Ready for tomorrow. I turned off the lights and locked up, the weight of the restaurant’s keys in my hand a reminder of the responsibility I carried. But as I walked away, keys jingling in rhythm with my steps, my mind quickly diverted to my other conundrum. And the fact that the threat of our prowler wasn’t what weighed heaviest on my mind.
It was the possibility of losing Aiden.
How could we overcome our differences? I needed to find a way to bridge the gulf between us—to navigate from the past to what we were trying to build now. Because I was coming to realize the thought of losing him felt far more daunting than any thief.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Aiden
The first birds were beginning their songs in the trees surrounding Dove Key Marina, the sky a pastel painting of pink and orange. With each careful stroke of the brush, I applied the final strokes of varnish to the wood before me. It shone under the growing light, smooth and clear—the finishing touch to my project.
For the thousandth time, my thoughts drifted to Stella. The memory of her smile mingled with the air, and I could almost feel the warmth of her skin under my touch. Each swipe of the brush seemed to echo my growing desire to win her back, to show her that we were worth another shot.
Luke’s words came back to me, clearer now than when he’d said them last night. Maybe it was the quiet peace of the dawn or the rhythmic motion of the brush, but I got it now. I wanted—no, needed to prove to Stella that our careers didn’t have to be at odds with our relationship. That we could thrive together, support each other, and build a life that didn’t compromise on love or ambition.
Rocking back to sit on my heels, I took a moment to admire the finished project. I wasn’t a flashy, over-the-top kind of guy. As grand gestures went, I wasn’t sure it was all that grand. But it was me.
I capped the varnish and cleaned my brush. The scent of the sea mingled with the fresh tang of the wood treatment, a combination that had always felt like home. But as I descended the stairs to get ready for my day, I imagined the cabin through Stella’s eyes, and the tight confines became more noticeable.
“Maybe she’s right,” I murmured to myself as I surveyed the cozy, lived-in cabin where every inch of space was utilized. “It is a little cramped.”
My eyes traced the lines of the compact galley, the small table cluttered with coffee mugs and notes, and the narrow hallway that led to the even narrower bathroom. I pictured her here, imagined her laughter bouncing off the walls, her presence filling the space. The idea of a permanent place on land—a proper apartment or a bungalow—didn’t seem so far-fetched anymore.
Stepping into the bathroom, I turned the shower knobs, wincing at the initial burst of cold before it warmed up to a more comfortable temperature. The water pressure was nothing to boast about, but it got the job done. I let the warm cascade wash away the remnants of varnish, uncertainty, and the last tendrils of sleep.
Refreshed from the shower, I stood in front of the mirror, swiping a hand across the fogged-up glass. My damp hair was sticking up in odd directions but smoothed under my fingers. I dressed quickly for work in slacks and a button-down shirt, the fabric feeling crisp and cool against my skin.
My mind shifted gears as I straightened my collar and tucked in the shirt. My clinic would be bustling today, a schedule packed with patients who each carried their own stories, ailments, and hopes. It required a clear head, sharp focus, and empathy—the qualities I prided myself on. Yet underneath it all, my heart thrummed with an undercurrent of anticipation for the evening ahead.
By tonight, I’d have some answers. I’d either rekindle something beautiful with Stella or finally close a chapter that had never truly ended. The stakes were high, and the thought sent a shiver of nerves through me even as determination settled in my chest. I gave myself one final look in the mirror, a small nod of encouragement, then grabbed my bag and headed to the galley.
I pocketed my cell phone and climbed up the stairs, locking the cabin door behind me. By now, the sky was fully blue, and boats were slowly moving out of the marina, ready to start the day’s work. Then familiar jingle rang out—I pulled my phone from my pocket to see the call was from Mom.
“Morning,” I answered, settling into a camp chair and watching the seagulls compete for breakfast scraps. I was running ahead of schedule and had some time to spare.
“Good morning, honey. Did I catch you at a bad time?” Her voice was warm and carried the comforting lilt of home.
“Perfect timing. I’m ready for work but don’t need to leave yet.” I could picture her in the sunlit kitchen, sipping coffee by the window.
“Oh, good. I woke up wanting to hear your voice.”
“How’s life in Michigan?”
“Good! I just started a new volunteer project. We’re setting up a community garden, and I’m really getting into the planning.”
I smiled, enjoying our much more easygoing rapport. “That’s fantastic, Mom. You’ve always had a green thumb, and a garden will really bring people together—something fresh and vibrant.”
She laughed. “It keeps me busy. Speaking of fresh and vibrant, how’s Stella?”
