She didn’t show up.
He’d given Piper time to think, and she’d realized that being with him required too much sacrifice, and she’d made her decision. He’d known it was too good to be real. That she would give up everything, her whole life, just for him. His jugular ached from supporting his heart. That’s where it sat now, every minute of the day; having Piper in his life had been so painfully sweet. So much better than he knew life could be.
It just hadn’t gone both ways.
Over a decade as a fisherman and he’d never once been seasick, but his stomach roiled now ominously. He’d been able to distract himself from the devastating blow, the memory of the empty dock, for the last two days, pushing the men and himself hard, poring over digital maps, and even working in the engine room while Fox manned the wheelhouse. If he stopped moving or thinking, there she was, and Jesus, he’d fucking lost her.
No. He’d never earned the right to her in the first place.
That was the problem.
It was Monday afternoon. Labor Day. Piper would be getting ready to open the bar. Did she still expect him there? Or would she assume he’d stay away now that she’d decided to move on? To leverage the new bar into a trip home. If he showed up at Cross and Daughters, he might be in her way. She may not want him there.
Brendan dug the knuckles of his index fingers into both eyes, images of Piper slaughtering him. Mussed-up, grumpy morning Piper. Confused in the grocery store Piper. Holding a flaming frying pan, crying over him in the hospital, moaning into his pillow Piper. Each and every incarnation of her was a stab to the chest, until he swore going overboard and sinking to the bottom of the icy fucking ocean sounded preferable to living with the memories . . . and not having the actual woman.
But she’d done the right thing for herself. Hadn’t she?
Didn’t he have to respect that?
Respect that this woman he wanted for his wife was leaving?
Jesus Christ. He might never hold her again.
A drizzle started, but he made no move to go inside to grab his slicker. Getting soaked and dying from pneumonia sounded like a pretty good plan at present. A moment later, though, Sanders passed by and handed the rain jacket to Brendan. Simply to have something to do with his hands, he put it on and slid both hands into the pockets.
Something glossy slipped between his fingers.
He drew it out—and there was Piper smiling back at him.
A picture of them. One he hadn’t been aware of her taking.
She’d taken a selfie behind his back while he held her in the recharging station. And her eyes were sex-drowsed and blissful. Happy. In love.
With an ax splitting his jugular in half, Brendan turned over the picture and saw she’d written a loopy, feminine message.
For your bunk, Captain.
Come back to me safely.
I love you so much, Piper.
The wind had been knocked out of him.
A wave rocked the boat, and he could barely make his legs compensate. All functioning power had deserted his body, because his heart required all of it to pound so furiously. He closed his eyes and clutched the picture to his chest, his mind picking through a million memories of Piper to find the one of her standing in his doorway. The last time he’d seen her.
Please . . . don’t doubt me, Brendan. Not you. Have faith in me. Okay?
But hadn’t he done exactly that by leaving?
He’d left her. After demanding over and over again she take a leap of faith, he’d walked out and ruined her tenuous trust. For God’s sake, she’d only been in town for what? Five weeks? What did he want from her?
Everything, that’s what. He’d asked for everything—and that hadn’t been fair.
So she’d kept a few safety nets. Good. As the man who loved her, that’s exactly what he should have been encouraging. Piper’s safety. What the hell had he done instead?
Punished her for it.
No wonder she hadn’t shown up at the dock. He hadn’t deserved to see her there, much less stand there praying for her to show up, begging God to make her appear, when he now realized full well . . . that she shouldn’t have come.
And now, when it was too late, the obvious solution to keeping her, to deserving her, bore down on him like a meteor. She didn’t have to give up everything. He loved her enough to find solutions. That’s what he did. There was no inconvenience or obstacle he wouldn’t face if it meant having her in his life, so he’d fucking face them. He’d adapt, like Piper had.
“I made a mistake,” he rasped, razor wire wrapping around his heart and pulling taut. “Jesus, I made a fucking mistake.”