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“Because you think she’ll tell you to go to hell?”
“Because I’m sure she will. She has every right to.”
“Stella’s visit really did a number on you, huh?”
“Like a wrecking ball to a glass house.” With a deep sigh, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the sky, trying to find some solace in the constellations. I could feel Luke’s sympathetic eyes on me.
“Look, I get it. She’s… she was your world once.” He took a slow sip from his beer, thoughtful. “And maybe that’s where she should stay.”
“Maybe,” I replied with a frown, though a part of me knew he had a point. I reached for the growler and poured the final bit into our glasses.
“Look, I’m not saying forget her. That would be impossible. But maybe… don’t let the past hold you back from something better.”
I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a long breath. “I know. I do. I was settling in here. I was even thinking about looking around for someone to date. But now…”
“Now things got a little cloudier, huh? Like sailing into the deep, murky unknown?”
“Since when did you become a poet?” I teased. Our laughter mingled with the distant sounds of the ocean.
“Since I came over for a beer and instead found you reeling over a woman.” Luke’s tone might have been light, but his eyes were serious. “You’ll have to find out whether Stella is your hurricane or your haven. Or just a part of your past.”
“Yeah, that about sums it up.”
Except there had been a tightness in my chest at his last sentence. The one about leaving Stella in the past. Was that what I wanted? I settled back in my chair and rubbed my forehead.
The growler sat empty on the table, a testament to the evening’s camaraderie and catharsis. I glanced at my watch, the comforting weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders. “I’ve got to be at the clinic early tomorrow.” I stood and stretched the tightness from my limbs.
“Ah, Dr. Mitchell, the respectable professional,” Luke teased, tipping an imaginary hat as he stood too. “Gone are the days of closing down bars and waking up on the beach.”
The corner of my mouth lifted. “Or slumped in your car. Yeah, I’ve got an image to portray these days.”
He clapped me on the shoulder, his smile softening. “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you, Aiden. Chasing after that dream—a big dream—and making it happen. You’ve wanted to be a doctor your whole life.”
“Thanks, but…” I hesitated, my gaze drifting off to where the dark outline of the sea met the sky. “Following my dream in Michigan somehow led me back here. Funny how life doesn’t care much for your plans.”
“Life’s like that,” he agreed, picking up the empty growler. “The best stories are the ones you never see coming. See you later.”
“Good night.” I waved as he ambled off the boat, though my thoughts were already chasing the possibility of reconnecting with Stella, of rewriting our story.
In the silence of the marina, I padded down the stairs into the cabin. The boat’s soft, soothing creaking filled my bedroom. I sank into my bed, the pillow cool beneath my folded arms as I stared at the ceiling fan swirling lazily above. Stella’s face flashed before my eyes—the way her cheeks had flamed, the horrified glint in her eyes.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, rubbing a hand over my stubble. She was far more stunning than any fantasy I’d conjured up over the years. Those endlessly deep brown eyes, and that perfect oval face. The thought of approaching her, of laying myself bare to the possibility of rejection—it set my heart racing. How could I possibly bridge the gap between us? What words would unravel years of silence and untended wounds?
The empty years I had created, not her.
Chapter Five
Stella
The bell above Sweet Dreams’ door chimed as I pushed through the entrance, the rich scents of freshly ground coffee beans and cinnamon wrapping around me like a warm embrace. The bakery was bustling with the morning regulars, the clatter of cups and the murmur of conversation creating a lively atmosphere.
“Stella, over here!” Grace’s voice cut through the hum of activity. I spotted her in our usual corner, her smile as big as the blueberry muffin on her plate.
“Hey,” I greeted, dropping my bag onto the chair. Grace stood up for a quick hug, her presence a reminder of simpler times. She had ash-blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and maybe the contrast was what had drawn us together all those years ago. We’d been friends as long as either of us could remember, making sure to keep in touch even when we lived on separate keys.
“Long time no see,” she teased, though it had only been a couple of weeks since our last coffee date. “So did you run ten miles this morning so you could eat a guilt-free donut?”
“Only two. I wanted some extra time to tend to my orchids.” Smiling, I glanced at the counter. Liv was manning the register today, her apron dusted with flour, her long, curly hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail. She caught my eye and waved me over.
