Page 86 of Pull Me Under

‘It’s not nothing. It’s the kind of thing that makes this village work.’ She squeezes my hand. ‘You’re already part of this place, Brynn. Whether you believe it or not.’

Jude turns back to his paperwork. The moment breaks. But a warmth flickers into life, a warmth that wasn’t there before. A crack in the wall I’ve built so carefully around myself.

Cassie pushes herself up with a grunt. ‘Now, I need to pee for the fourteenth time today, and you need to go back to pretending you’re not completely gone for that man.’

‘I’m not⁠—’

‘Sure you’re not.’ She pats my cheek, maternal despite being only a few years older. ‘Come have dinner with us sometime. Cal’s cooking is top tier and I make excellent company.’

‘I’d like that.’

‘Good. See you around, Brynn Trelawney. And for what it’s worth – I’m glad you came back too.’

She waddles off towards the village, one hand on her back, the other waving without looking.

I sit on the crate for a long moment. Sun high, morning chill burned away, harbour sparkling.

Jude emerges from the boathouse, wiping his hands on his jeans. He walks back, and I watch him come – the easy stride, that strand of sandy hair that seems to twist across his forehead.

‘Rotas are sorted,’ he says.

‘Good.’ I don’t ask if we are on the rota together. I’m softening, not losing my mind.

‘Cassie didn’t scare you off?’

‘She tried. I’m resilient.’

He laughs. ‘Yeah. I’m starting to figure that out.’

‘I should get back to Betty,’ I say, not moving.

‘Probably,’ he agrees, also not moving.

‘The fuel system won’t test itself.’

‘Very responsible.’

‘I’m known for my responsibility.’

‘Are you?’

‘No. Not even a little bit.’

He grins. That real grin, the one that transforms his whole face. ‘Dinner,’ he says. ‘Tomorrow night. Let me cook for you.’

‘You cook?’

‘Adequately. I won’t poison you.’ He winces, scrunching those damn freckles. ‘I think.’

‘That’s a low bar.’

‘It’s the bar I’m offering. Take it or leave it.’

I should leave it. Definitely, definitely leave it.

‘Fine,’ I say, because apparently I’m an idiot. ‘Tomorrow night. But if you give me food poisoning, I’m telling everyone you cried during the inspection.’

‘I didn’t cry during the inspection.’