Page 187 of Pull Me Under

‘Why?’

‘Because you built her. And you don’t do anything by halves.’

I’d kissed him then. Partly because I wanted to, partly to hide the fact that my eyes were stinging.

Turns out I’m not as tough as I thought I was.

Turns out that’s okay.

The sun’s fully up now. The harbour’s coming to life – fishermen heading out, tourists starting to trickle down to the beach, Nina opening the café with a clatter of chairs and a wave in my direction.

Jude’s phone buzzes. He checks it, smiles.

‘Kit. He’s on his way to pick me up.’

‘You’d better go, then. Don’t want to miss your train to your fancy university.’

‘Plymouth is not fancy.’

‘It’s fancier than anything I ever did.’

‘You restored a boat from scratch. I’d say that counts as an education.’

I walk him back to the cottage and watch him grab his bag, check his pockets three times for his keys, do all the nervous rituals of someone about to start a new life.

At the door, he stops. Turns.

‘I love you,’ he says. ‘I don’t think I say it enough. But I do. I love you, Brynn Trelawney.’

‘I love you too, Jude Harding.’

‘Even when I’m an idiot?’

‘Especially when you’re an idiot. Gives me something to feel superior about.’

He grins. Kisses me one last time. And then he’s gone, jogging down the lane toward Kit’s waiting car, toward Plymouth, toward the future he should have had all along.

I stand in the doorway and watch until the car disappears over the hill.

Then I turn back to the cottage. To the boat shed. To the life I’ve built in this village.

Funny how things work out.

Six months ago I came to Sea Salt Bay with no idea what would await me here. All I owned was a suitcase full of anger and a lonely shadow that followed me wherever I went. I never expected attachments, complications, falling in love with a cheeky fisherman who didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted and hid his pain under his hoodies and flip-flops.

Now I’ve got a business, a boat, a sister I never knew existed, and a man who’s learning – slowly, imperfectly, but genuinely – how to build a life for himself instead of just maintaining what someone else started.

It’s not the life I planned.

It’s better.

Betty rocks gently in the harbour, waiting for her maiden voyage. The sign above the boat shed catches the morning light. Somewhere in Bristol, Helen is probably already planning what to bring for Sunday lunch.

And me?

I’m home.