“Sprinkles is a wonderful dog. He went through a lot of training to stay by her side,” Leif says, his posture relaxing at the mention of Quinn.
“That’s good.” Martha’s eyes flick between us. “Well, you let us know if you need anything. Us Cresters need to stand together.”
A group of teenagers huddles near the railing twenty feet ahead, heads bent together over a phone. One points in our direction, another’s whisper sends nervous laughter through the group. They scatter as we approach, casting furtive peeks over their shoulders.
My fingers twitch at my side, and I roll my shoulders back, keeping my stance open and unthreatening. This isn’t my battle to fight.
“They’re just curious,” he murmurs without turning his head.
The wind carries the scent of fresh bread from the bakery at the end of the boardwalk, mingling with the brine of the harbor. A fishing boat chugs toward the open water, its engine puttering as seagulls wheel overhead, their cries piercing through the morning quiet.
“Ms. Wilson!” A man in a paint-splattered coverall calls from where he’s touching up the trim on the harbor master’s office. “You still coming to fix the support beam at the community center on Saturday?”
“I’ll be there first thing in the morning,” I reply, grateful for the normalcy of the question.
He taps his brush on the lip of the paint can, droplets of white splattering on the plastic tarp below. “You can bring your friend, if he wants to lend a hand. We got coffee and donuts for volunteers.”
I look at Leif, one brow raised.
“I appreciate the invitation,” he says. “I might stop by after Quinn’s morning session.”
The harbor opens wider as we approach its mouth, the channel to the ocean framed by hills dusted with evergreens. The morning sun burns through patches of fog, illuminating boats tied to their moorings. Their hulls knock into the dock with each swell, the hollow percussion marking the rhythm of harbor life.
We reach the end of the boardwalk, where the wooden planks give way to a small viewing platform. Below us, waves crash against the rocks, sending sprays of white foam into the air. The cold cuts deeper here with nothing to block the wind, but neither of us suggests turning back.
“I really messed up, didn’t I?” Leif says, the words almost lost to the sounds of the harbor.
“You did what you thought was needed to protect yourself,” I answer. “No one faults you for that.”
He bows his head. “But I still messedusup.”
I draw in a shaky breath of salt-filled air, and it’s as if Jared is here with me, lending me strength. “Yeah, you messed us up. I wish I could say different, wish we could go back to that day in your hotel room. I really do. I understand your actions, but it doesn’t change how I can’t trust you anymore.”
Leif flinches as if I struck him.
For a long moment, he says nothing. The harbor stretches out in front of us, gray water rolling toward the open ocean.
“I thought you’d say that,” he says at last. “I messed up with Jared, too. But hearing it out loud still…” His breath leaves him in a thin cloud. “Still hurts more than I expected.”
My chest tightens with the urge to comfort him, but I keep my focus fixed on the tide as it drags foam back from the rocks below us. “I’m not angry with you. I understand why you did what you did. But trust can’t always be reasoned around.”
“I know.” His hands tighten in his pockets. “Every time you said you’d protect me, every time Jared promised the same… I believed you would try. I just didn’t believe Carson would let it happen. I thought he’d find some way to hurt you, too. And I couldn’t bear to be the reason your lives were ruined.”
His honesty cuts deeper than excuses ever could.
Leif drags a hand through his hair, staring down at the churning water below the platform. “So this is it then.”
My throat tightens. “What do you mean?”
He swallows hard before looking at me. “I don’t expect things to go back to how they were. I don’t deserve that.” He searches my face as he braces for the worst. “But… can we still be friends?”
Part of me wants to say no.
It would be easier.
Cleaner.
If I walked away now, if I cut the tie, there would be no long months of awkward dinners or careful conversations where every word has to be weighed against what used to exist between us.