Page 85 of Island Girl

But neither of them moved. Neither of them looked away. The air between them felt charged, electric, like the moment before a storm breaks.

“This is going to be harder than I thought,” Merritt said quietly.

“Yeah.” Justin's voice was rough. “It is.”

He turned and walked into the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind him. Merritt stood alone in the empty bar, her heart beating too fast, her hands gripping the edge of the counter.

Friends. They'd agreed. It was the right decision, the sensible decision, the only decision that made sense given everything that was happening. So why did it feel so wrong?

The afternoon shift was busy, which was a blessing. Merritt poured drinks and ran food and made small talk with the regulars, falling into the familiar rhythm of work. Ed and Margie were at their usual table by the window, sharing a basket of coconut shrimp and talking in the quiet, comfortable way of people who had been together for decades. The fishermen came in around four, loud and sunburned, ordering beers and arguing about the catch of the day.

Justin stayed mostly in the back, emerging only when the bar got too busy for Merritt to handle alone. They worked together smoothly, handing off glasses and bottles without needing to speak, their movements synchronized by months of practice. But every time their hands brushed, every time their eyes met, Merritt felt that same electric charge, that same awareness that something had shifted between them.

Around six, she found herself glancing at the corner where Ray usually sat. His chair was empty, his table bare. No untouched glass of Jameson, no silent presence watching from the shadows. Just an empty space where a broken man used to hide. She didn't know where he was. Paula was still looking, still checking all the places he might be. Still waiting.

The guilt rose up in her throat, and she pushed it back down. Not now. She couldn't think about that now.

“You okay?” Justin had appeared beside her, a tray of dirty glasses in his hands.

“Fine. Just thinking.”

“About Ray?”

“About everything.”

He set down the tray and started loading glasses into the dishwasher. Merritt wiped down the bar, her hands moving automatically.

“Crocker told me about your mother,” she said. “How she did the same thing with June. Gave up everything trying to save her.”

Justin's expression tightened, just slightly. “He told you that?”

“At the funeral. After he gave me his speech about not being able to save people.” She hesitated. “I'm sorry. About your mom. I know it was only two years ago.”

“It's okay.” But his voice had gone flat, the way it did when he was protecting himself from something. “It was cancer. There wasn't anything anyone could do.”

“Is that why you left Boston? After she died?”

“Part of it.”

She waited for him to say more, but he didn't. He just stood there, his hands braced against the edge of the bar, his eyes fixed on some point in the middle distance.

“You mentioned Kira,” Merritt said. “That night on the deck. You said you ended things with her.”

“I did.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I just realized it wasn't right.”

“After your mother died?”

“Around that time.” He picked up a rag and started wiping down the counter, even though it was already clean. “Can we talk about something else?”

“I'm just trying to understand. You know all these things about me. My mother, Weston, the wedding I ran away from. I feel like I don't know anything about you.”

“There's not much to know.”

“I don't believe that.”