I leaned back against the railing with the warm cup in my hands while Jeff spread a weathered nautical chart across the top of a cooler. The paper fluttered in the wind until he pinned it down with a knife and a wrench.
I stepped over beside him, bracing a hand on the deck to keep my balance as the boat rolled. My ankle still throbbed—manageable if I didn’t do anything stupid.
Jeff tapped the map with a thick finger.
“Right here. Finn’s Island.”
The last time we spoke on the phone he’d been telling meabout a new rainwater filtration system he’d installed, and I’d made some joke about him turning into a hermit. He hadn’t laughed.
Jeff glanced up at the horizon, then glanced back down at the map.
“If the wind holds and we keep this speed, we should arrive before sunset.”
Behind us, Sloane let out a slow breath.
“Which means,” Jeff added with a tired grin, “none of us has to sleep on this damn boat another night.”
Ethan pumped a fist in the air.
“Thank God.”
I chuckled softly.
“Don’t let the boat hear you say that. She might get offended.”
Jeff snorted.
“She’ll survive.”
* * *
The sky turned orange as the sun dropped lower, the air cooling as evening crept in across the water. I leaned against the rail beside Sloane, watching the horizon. Neither of us spoke much. The closer we got, the less there seemed to be to say.
Eventually, the island appeared.
At first, it was just a dark smudge in the distance. But as we drew closer, details emerged piece by piece.
Tall pine trees lining the shoreline.
A strip of rocky beach.
And finally, the small wooden dock stretching out into the water.
I went quiet without meaning to.
My stomach had started to form a slow, uneasy knot the moment the treeline took shape. Everything I’d told the others about this place—the compound, the solar panels, the supplies—all of it built on memories years old.
“You okay?” Sloane asked beside me.
I nodded once, still staring ahead.
“Yeah.”
Jeff throttled the engine down, and the Mariner slowed, drifting the last hundred yards toward the dock in near silence. Just the lap of water against the hull and the low idle of the motor.
That’s when I noticed it.
I leaned forward, squinting.