Page 69 of On Fire

“No, you don’t understand. I can’t get the image of you in there, like that, and nearly losing you—out of my head.” He stops for a moment with his hands on knees and watches the water swirl between his feet. This is not usual behavior—the man is a super compartmentalizer. He can stick something in a drawer and leave it while he carries on his day.

“Keller said you gave up riding in the ambulance so he could be with me. He’s beyond grateful.” I lay a hand on his back as he stands back up. “Now you listen. I’m alive because of you. Because of them.” I tilt my head toward those ahead of us. “Despite my orders, by the way. We need to have a talk about that.”

He puts a light hand on my shoulder and we stand face-to-face. “You need to trust the people who love you. You need to trust your friends. And,” he swallows, “I know this is tricky. But you have to trust strangers and realize most people don’t give a fuck about who you fuck.” The threat of tears makes his gray eyes nearly the color of the sea behind him.

My heart beats hard, and I can feel it in the back of my throat.

“Look at those people, Nic. They are my family, professionally and personally. They all have someone, and we all get to enjoy that relationship. We get to see them happy. Stop denying us. We want to see you two happy together.”

I glance at the group up ahead by thirty feet or so. They are nearly back to The Inn when another person steps out onto the beach.

It’s Keller.

This must have been planned. The casual walk, the talk, Keller on the beach. One by one they stop and give him a hug, practically like a receiving line. Claire and Laurel give him a kiss on the cheek. He has to bend over to accommodate the shorter Russos and Maya—even with Chloe there’s a dip before the offer of a cheek.

Bryce and Travis hug him, and Mateus claps a hand to his shoulder before his hug. Luke gives his brother a warm embrace.

My stomach quivers with the effort not to let the hot lump in the back of my throat morph into something worse.

Finn gestures toward the scene and for a moment his voice cracks. “Do you see this? See how beautiful it is to see the people you love, together?”

I nod, afraid to speak. I clear my throat again, but I can only manage a husky whisper. “But it’s not just me.” I wait a moment before continuing in a more normal tone. “Keller has his own worries, issues. His job. His life. He’s so afraid. Even more than I am.”

Finn suddenly leans in and gives me a quick hug. In the distance I see Keller start to walk toward us. His khaki pants are rolled up mid-calf, uneven. His large oversized plain shirt billows in the wind. But he’s with me. He really is with me. When Finn steps back he says, “I’m not so sure those things matter anymore. You two need to talk. Then meet me in the office.”

Finn walks on ahead and takes Claire’s outstretched hand. Their arms swing together as they make their way to the porch and disappear behind a sand dune.

“So, you were in on this?” I say looking out at the sea.

He raises both hands. “I had nothing to do with it. Bryce texted me about an hour ago to come down to the beach. I had to stop by the firehouse first to put out a noncombustible fire.”

That means a personnel issue or something else.

He shrugs. “A thing with the schedules. So, I’m late.”

“No,” I say. “This is perfect timing.”

“What did I miss? What was all the kissy kissy about back there?” He gestures vaguely toward the porch. “Hey?” He puts a hand on my back.

A small group of tourists pass—a family with a toddler and a teenager.

His touch doesn’t crumble walls. It’s more like it syncs everything together. Everything I’ve ever survived, I’ve ever wanted, I’ve ever hoped for. Sliding both arms under his, I press him to me, burying my head in his neck. Certain he will resist, pull back, I tell myself to be prepared for the push away.

We’re in public, but I can’t help myself. I am so in love with him and it’s so weirdly destabilizing and yet so right.

Hang on.

But that resistance never comes. Instead, he holds me. Right there on the beach. In public. In view of summer tourists and four generation of fishermen. I lift my face to his, place my hand at the back of his head and kiss him.

The breeze plays around us. The tides rush between our feet. The hiss of water in sand and the hush of waves drowns the sound of something releasing in my throat. A small cry wells up and escapes when we pull apart. Then he gazes at me for a moment, a thumb on my lips before crushing me to him and kissing me in a rush of love and longing, of loss and hope, so intense my chest beats hard with the effort to keep tears back. He pulls away a second time. His eyes are hungry—his breath, quick. His jaw is set, his lips, soft and wet.

Then we kiss again.