Page 22 of Island Girl

He'd felt it too, that first day when she walked in for her interview. The way she carried herself. Polite, capable, but with something underneath. A weight she was trying not to show. She'd told him about her mother during the Zoom call, and he'd understood immediately. She was a caregiver. Had been for years. That kind of thing shaped a person.

Empaths, his mother used to call them. People who felt other people's pain like it was their own. She'd been one herself. It was part of what made her so good at her job, and part of what made her so tired at the end of every day. “It's a gift and a curse,” she'd told him once. “You can't turn it off. You just learn to manage it.”

Merritt had it. He could see it in the way she noticed things. The way she remembered that Margie liked extra lemon with her water, the way she softened her voice when someone seemed sad, even if she didn't know why.

And now she'd fixed that same attention on Ray.

Justin wiped down the bar and glanced at the clock. Almost nine. Ray had been in his corner for two hours, his Jameson untouched as usual. Merritt was finishing up her side work,folding napkins near the window. But every few minutes, her eyes drifted to that corner.

She wasn't going to let this go. He could feel it.

He thought about Paula.

Ray's sister came in maybe once a week, usually on Tuesday afternoons when the bar was quiet. She'd order a glass of wine, ask how Ray was doing, and sit with that information for a while before she left. She never pushed. Never asked Justin to intervene. She just checked in, like she was monitoring a situation she couldn't control.

Justin didn't know the whole story. Nobody did, except maybe Paula. He knew Ray was a veteran. Marines. He knew something had happened overseas, something bad enough to change him. He knew Ray had been married once and had a daughter somewhere. He knew the marriage ended and Ray had pulled away from everyone, including his own family.

But the details? The specifics of what Ray had seen, what he'd done, what haunted him? Those were locked away somewhere Justin couldn't reach. And he'd never tried. That wasn't his place.

What he did know was that Ray came to Shorebirds because it was safe. Because nobody bothered him here. Because Justin and Crocker had an unspoken agreement to let him be, and the regulars had learned to do the same.

If Merritt disrupted that, even with the best intentions, Ray might disappear. And Justin wasn't sure he'd come back.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled to Paula's number. He'd saved it years ago, back when Ray first started coming in. “Just in case,” she'd said. “If anything ever happens. If he ever seems worse than usual.”

He stared at the screen for a long moment.

What would he even say? “Hey, Paula. There's a new bartender here who keeps looking at your brother like she wants to save him. You might want to come talk some sense into her.”

That sounded ridiculous. And maybe it was premature.Merritt hadn't actually done anything yet. She'd respected the boundaries he'd set. She hadn't pushed, hadn't tried to force a conversation. She just watched.

But watching was how it started. He'd seen it before.

He put the phone away and decided to wait. Maybe Merritt would figure it out on her own. Maybe she'd see that Ray didn't want to be reached and she'd back off. Maybe he was worrying about nothing.

But if he saw her start to cross that line, he'd call Paula. Better to have the conversation sooner than later. Paula knew Ray better than anyone. She'd know how to explain it in a way that would make Merritt understand.

The front door opened and a group of tourists came in, loud and sunburned and looking for margaritas. Justin pushed off the bar and went to greet them.

The night went on. Orders came and went. The fishermen told their stories. Dottie said goodnight to Crocker, who almost smiled. Ed and Margie held hands across the table while they watched the last of the sunset.

Merritt worked efficiently, moving through the room with ease. She'd gotten good at this. Natural. Like she'd been doing it for years instead of weeks.

Around ten, Ray stood up. He left a few bills on the table, same as always, and walked toward the door. He didn't look at anyone. Didn't say goodbye.

But as he passed the bar, he paused. Just for a second. And he glanced at Merritt.

She was across the room, clearing a table, and didn't see it. But Justin did.

It was quick. Just a flicker of something in Ray's eyes. Awareness, maybe. Or curiosity. Then it was gone, and Ray was out the door, disappearing into the warm night air.

Justin stood very still, processing what he'd seen.

In two years, Ray had never looked at anyone. He came, he sat, he left. He was a ghost who happened to drink Jameson.

But tonight, for just a second, he'd noticed Merritt.

Justin didn't know what that meant. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.