Page 8 of Island Girl

Justin's expression shifted into something harder to read. “That's a complicated question.”

“What do you mean?”

He set down the rag and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Ray's a veteran. Marines. Did a few tours overseas, came back different. That's all I really know. He doesn't talk much, and nobody pushes him.”

Merritt looked at Ray again. Now that she knew, she could see it. The way he held himself, coiled tight even while sitting still. The way his eyes scanned the room every few minutes, checking exits, watching for threats that weren't there.

“Does he have family?”

“A sister. Paula. She comes in sometimes. Nice lady. Works as a nurse somewhere near here.” Justin picked up the rag again. “Look, Ray's a regular. He pays his tab, he doesn't cause trouble, and he keeps to himself. That's all you need to know.”

“But he seems so alone.”

“Some people want to be alone. It's not our job to fix that.” Justin's voice was gentle but firm. “You can be kind to him. You can check on him, make sure he has what he needs. But don't push. Don't try to save him. It won't go the way you think.”

Merritt nodded, but something nagged at her. She thought about what Justin said earlier, about learning the regulars, knowing their names and their drinks and their stories. Ray wasa regular. But his story seemed locked behind a door he didn't want anyone to open.

“What does he drink?” she asked.

“Jameson. Neat. One glass. He nurses it all night and then he leaves.”

“Every night?”

“Almost every night. Like clockwork.”

She looked at the corner again. Ray still hadn't moved. The ice in his glass had melted, diluting the whiskey, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

“Take your break,” Justin said. “Go upstairs for fifteen minutes. Rest your feet. You've earned it.”

Merritt nodded and headed for the back door. But as she climbed the stairs to her apartment, she couldn't stop thinking about the man in the corner. The one who came every night and spoke to no one. The one with the long hair and the empty eyes and the drink he never finished.

She thought about her mother, about the years of sitting by her bedside, trying to fill the silence with words and music and hope. She thought about all the times she'd tried to fix things that couldn't be fixed, just by being present, just by refusing to give up.

Maybe Justin was right. Maybe some people didn't want to be saved.

But she couldn't help wondering what had happened to Ray Maguire. What he'd seen, what he'd lost, what had turned him into a man who sat alone in corners and stared at nothing.

She sat on her bed and looked out the window at the darkening sky. The Gulf was turning purple and orange, the last light of the day bleeding into the water.

Tomorrow, she told herself. Tomorrow she'd learn more about this place, these people, this new life she was building.

Tonight, she just needed to rest.

She set a timer on her phone for fifteen minutes, lay back on the bed, and closed her eyes.

CHAPTER 3

Merritt woke early, her body still on Maine time.

The sun was barely up, the light soft and gray through the window. She lay in bed for a few minutes, listening to the gulls and the distant sound of someone hosing down the deck below. Her shift didn't start until four, which meant her mornings were her own. She liked that about this job. The quiet hours before the chaos, time to explore and think and settle into this new life.

She thought about calling her father, but it was too early. She'd call him tonight, after her shift. This morning, she was going to Captiva.

She'd been on the island for two days now, and she hadn't made the trip yet. Part of her had been waiting until she felt settled. Part of her had been nervous, though she couldn't say exactly why. Maybe because seeing Maggie would make this real in a way it hadn't been yet. Maybe because Maggie had a way of seeing straight through her, and Merritt wasn't sure what she'd find.

She showered and dressed in a sundress and sandals,something lighter than the jeans and T-shirts she'd been wearing for work. She grabbed her purse and keys and headed downstairs.

The bar was quiet. Justin was in the back somewhere. She could hear him moving boxes around. She slipped out the front door without saying anything, not wanting to explain where she was going or why.