Page 103 of Island Girl

Julie walked to the bar, Ray beside her. Heather met them there, and for a moment, the three of them stood together. A family fractured and imperfect, but still a family.

“I'm staying,” Julie said. “For a few days, at least. We have a lot to talk about.”

“You can stay with me,” Paula offered. “I have a guest room.”

“Thank you.” Julie looked at Ray, something soft in her eyes. “We're going to take it slow. Figure out what this looks like. But we're going to try.”

“That's all any of us can do,” Ray said. He looked at Merritt. “That's what you taught me. Just try. One day at a time.”

Merritt shook her head. “I didn't teach you anything. You did the work.”

“You opened the door. That's more than anyone else ever did.” He reached across the bar and squeezed her hand, a gesture so unexpected that she almost forgot to breathe. “Thank you. For not giving up on me.”

“I never gave up. I just waited.”

“Same thing. Sometimes that's exactly the same thing.”

The night wound down slowly. The fishermen left around ten. Ed and Margie had long since gone home. The tourists paid their tab and wandered back to their hotel. By eleven, the bar was nearly empty, just the family gathered around a table in the corner, talking in low voices, laughing occasionally, slowly rebuilding what had been lost.

Crocker emerged from the kitchen, untying his apron.

“Hell of a night,” he said, standing beside Merritt.

“Yeah. It really was.”

“You know what June used to say? She used to say that every person who walks through that door is carrying something. A story, a wound, a hope they're afraid to name. Our job isn't to fix them. It's just to give them a place to set it down for a while.”

“That's beautiful.”

“That's June.” His voice softened. “She would have liked you, Merritt. She would have said you belong here.”

“I'm starting to believe that.”

“Good. Because you do.” He clapped her on the shoulder. “Now go home. Get some rest. You've earned it.”

Merritt hung up her apron and grabbed her bag. She was halfway to the door when Justin caught up with her.

“I'll walk you out,” he said.

They stepped into the warm night air, the sound of the Gulf murmuring in the distance. The sky was full of stars, more than she'd ever seen in Maine, a vast canopy of light stretching from horizon to horizon.

“So,” Justin said. “What happens now?”

“I don't know. I guess we keep going. One day at a time.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He turned to face her, his expression serious. “I meant what I said earlier. About appreciating you.”

“Justin, we agreed. Just friends.”

“I know what we agreed. And I'm not trying to changeanything. Not yet.” He took a step closer. “But I want you to know that when you're ready, if you're ever ready, I'll be here. No pressure. No expectations. Just me, waiting.”

“That could be a long time.”

“I'm a patient man.” He smiled. “You're worth waiting for, Merritt.”

She didn't know what to say. So she did the only thing that felt right. She reached up and kissed him on the cheek, a soft brush of lips against stubble, a promise of something that wasn't ready to be named.

“Good night, Justin.”