Page 34 of Island Girl

Merritt's fingers faltered for a half-beat, then recovered. She held his gaze for a moment, just long enough to acknowledge him, then looked away. She didn't want to spook him. Didn't want to make him feel seen in a way that sent him running again.

She played three more songs. Each time she looked up, Ray was still watching. His expression hadn't changed, still guarded, still unreadable, but he hadn't looked away. He hadn't retreated into that empty stare that usually claimed him.

When she finished her last song, the bar applauded. Ed whistled through his teeth. Dottie raised her wine glass. Crocker nodded from behind the register, his eyes soft with something she recognized as gratitude.

Merritt stood and stretched her fingers, working out the ache that came from playing. She glanced at Ray's corner, expecting to see him gone.

He was still there.

His glass remained untouched. His hands rested on the table, loose and still. But he hadn't left. He'd stayed through the entire set, through every song, watching her as she played.

As she looked at him, he moved the slightest inclination of his head. A nod so small she might have imagined it.

But she didn't imagine it. She knew she didn't.

She nodded back, just as small, just as carefully. Then she turned and walked to the bar, her heart beating fast against her ribs.

Justin was waiting for her, a glass of water ready. “You saw that?”

“I saw.”

“He stayed the whole time.”

“I know.”

Justin set down the towel he'd been holding and leaned against the bar, his expression thoughtful. “That's new. He usually leaves after an hour. Two at most.”

Merritt took a long drink of water, trying to calm the flutter in her chest. “What do you think it means?”

“I don't know.” Justin glanced toward Ray's corner. “But it's something. It's more than he's given anyone in two years.”

Merritt followed his gaze. Ray hadn't moved. He sat in his corner, still and silent, his Jameson untouched. But there was something different about him tonight. A presence that hadn't been there before. Like he'd stepped back from wherever he usually went and was actually here, in this room, with the rest of them.

Merritt smiled and looked at Justin, “I'm not going to push,” she whispered. “I promised Paula I wouldn't.”

“I know you said that; I just hope you meant it.”

She nodded. “But I'm going to keep playing. If Crocker wants me to, that is.”

Justin nodded slowly. “Crocker wants you to. So do the customers.” He paused, his eyes meeting hers. “So do I.”

Something warm spread through her chest at his words. Not just because of what he said, but because of the way he said it. Like he trusted her. Like he believed she could do this without breaking anything.

“Thanks, Justin.”

“Thank yourself. You're the one up there with the guitar.”

She smiled and finished her water. The after-dinner crowd headed home for the night. Dottie paid her tab and said hergoodbyes. The fishermen drained their last beers and wandered out, their voices fading into the warm night air.

Around ten, Ray stood up.

Merritt watched him from behind the bar, where she was drying glasses. He moved the same way he always did, slow, deliberate, contained. He left money on the table and walked toward the door.

But this time, as he passed the bar, he stopped.

Merritt's hands went still on the glass she was holding.

Ray stood there for a moment, not quite looking at her but not looking away either. His jaw worked, as if he were trying to find words that wouldn't come. The silence stretched between them, heavy and fragile.