Page 80 of Island Girl

“You sit with it. You let it hurt. And eventually, one day, it hurts a little less.” He squeezed her hand. “You're not alone, Merritt. I know it feels that way, but you're not. You've got Paula and Crocker and your dad. And you've got me. I'm not going anywhere.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him. The kind eyes, the gentle smile, the quiet strength that radiated from him like warmth from a fire. He'd been there since the beginning, steadyand patient, never asking for anything, always giving whatever she needed.

“Why?” she asked. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because you matter to me. Because from the first night you walked into Shorebirds, something clicked. I don't know how to explain it. I just knew you were someone worth knowing.”

The words hung in the air between them. The waves kept rolling in. The stars kept appearing overhead. And something shifted, some invisible line that had always been there between them.

She leaned toward him without meaning to. He leaned toward her. And then, before either of them could think about what they were doing, his lips were on hers.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. It tasted like key lime pie and salt air and something else, something that felt like hope. She let herself sink into it, let herself forget for just a moment all the grief and guilt and worry that had been drowning her.

Then Justin pulled back.

His face was flushed, his eyes wide. He dropped her hand like it had burned him.

“I'm sorry,” he said quickly. “I shouldn't have done that. That was completely inappropriate. You're grieving, you're vulnerable, and I just took advantage of that. I'm so sorry.”

“Justin.”

“No, I mean it. That was wrong. You don't need me complicating things right now. You need a friend, and I just made everything weird.” He stood up, nearly knocking over his wine glass. “I should go. I'm sorry. I'll go.”

“Justin, wait.”

But he was already moving, already heading for the door. He paused just long enough to look back at her, his expression torn between embarrassment and something deeper.

“I'll see you at Shorebirds,” he said. “Take care of yourself, Merritt. Please.”

And then he was gone, his footsteps fading across the sand, the sound of his truck starting in the distance.

Merritt sat alone on the deck, her lips still tingling, her heart still racing. The kiss had lasted only a few seconds, but she could still feel it, like an echo in her body.

She should have stopped him. Should have told him it was okay, that she'd wanted it too, that he hadn't done anything wrong. But the words hadn't come fast enough, and now he was gone.

The wind chime sang. The waves rolled in. And Merritt sat in the darkness, touching her lips with her fingers, wondering how everything had gotten so complicated.

She'd come to Sanibel to start over. To find herself. To build a life that was hers alone.

She hadn't planned on falling for anyone. Hadn't planned on any of this.

But here she was, sitting on the deck of a dead man's bungalow, missing a kiss from a man who'd just apologized for giving it to her.

Life never went the way you planned. She knew that better than anyone.

She picked up her wine glass and drained it, then went inside and closed the French doors against the night. Tomorrow she would figure out what to do about Justin. Tomorrow she would think about Ray and the funeral and all the things she still had to face.

But tonight, she let herself sit with the memory of that kiss, soft and sweet and full of possibility.

Tomorrow could wait.

CHAPTER 26

Paula made the call on Sunday morning.

She'd been putting it off for days, telling herself that Ray would come back on his own, that he just needed time, that he'd done this before and he always found his way home eventually. But a week had passed since the explosion at Shorebirds, and there was still no sign of him. His truck kept appearing in different places around the island, then disappearing again before she could catch up. He was avoiding her on purpose, moving just ahead of her search, staying one step out of reach.

She was scared. More scared than she'd been in years.