Leaving her there, he dressed quickly, pulling on a long-sleeved thermal shirt, jeans, and a sweatshirt. Tugging thick socks onto his feet and shoving them into his boots. Fitting a cap onto his head. Restless now, he took one last look at her and walked out of the room.
Outside, morning mist enveloped him so that he couldn’t see his building after a few hundred yards, and the pit in his stomach grew with every step he took toward the docks.
Go back.
Tell her to move here.
That seeing her on a daily basis would be your version of heaven.
God knew it was the truth. A few minutes away from her arms and he was already back to being cold.
He stopped halfway across the street, purpose beginning to settle over him. What if he could make her happy? What if they could prove everyone wrong? What if she just stayed and stayed and stayed, so he could wake up every morning and feel fucking substantial and alive, the way he’d done today? He would do everything in his power to give her that same feeling, so she’d never regret leaving LA—
“Fox!”
Brendan’s voice beckoned him through the fog, and he took a few reluctant steps forward, the mist moving out of his way to reveal the harbor, the Della Ray in her usual slip in the distance. He nodded at his friend. They pounded fists.
Guilt he didn’t want to feel tripped and fell in his belly.
He’d been so consumed with Hannah and the separate reality they’d created together that he’d all but forgotten Brendan’s request that Fox keep his hands off his future sister-in-law. Realistically, nothing could have stopped him. His feelings for Hannah were too powerful to heed any kind of warning. That was obvious now. But the guilt wouldn’t be pushed aside. Not when Fox knew Brendan’s concern was warranted. After all, they’d been friends for a long time. While Brendan had been studying, learning the fishing business, Fox had been participating in very different extracurricular activities.
“What’s up?” Fox asked, shouldering his duffel bag.
Brendan’s gaze was unusually elusive. The captain was the type to look someone in the eye when speaking, impressing upon them his Very Important Words. “Something came up and I need to drive my parents home.”
Fox processed that. “They’re not flying?”
“No. There was some flooding in their basement while they were gone. Figured I’d drive them home and get it straightened out.”
“All right,” Fox said slowly. What was going on here? Brendan had never missed a job. Not once since Fox had known him. And surely if this was going to be the first time, he would have called and saved everyone the hassle of packing and hauling their asses down to the harbor. “So . . . the trip is canceled?”
The utter joy that blared through Fox almost knocked him over.
Five added days with Hannah.
He was going to be back inside her warmth in two minutes flat. And tonight he was going to take her to dinner. Wherever she wanted to go. A concert. She’d love a concert—
“No, it’s not canceled. I’m just handing over the captain duties for the trip.” Before Fox could react, Brendan was dropping the keys to the Della Ray into his palm. “She’s all yours.”
Fox’s relief screeched to a halt. Brendan was now busy folding back the sleeve of his shirt with jerky movements. His friend had never been very good at deception, had he? Yeah, he’d even showed up at school on senior ditch day while everyone else had gone to the beach. This was a man who’d stayed faithful to his deceased wife for seven damn years. He was as honest as the ocean glimmering with the sunrise behind him, and there was no way he’d forgo a fishing trip for a flooded basement. His responsibilities and his customs were stitched into his very fabric.
For the first time, Fox was envious of that.
Even while annoyance nagged at the back of his neck.
Brendan had absolute conviction when it came to making decisions and sticking to them. He knew exactly what he wanted the future to look like, and he executed the steps to make it happen. Proposing to Piper. Commissioning a second boat to expand the business. The only place Brendan seemed to fall short was the absurd belief that Fox belonged in a wheelhouse. Believed it so much that he’d stand there and lie.
Fox nodded stiffly, flipping the keys over once in his hand. “Did you really think you could pull this off?”
Brendan squared up, firming his jaw. “Pull what off?”
“This. Lying to me about some imaginary flood so I’d be forced to captain the boat. What did you think? If I did it once, I’d realize it’s meant to be?”
Brendan thought about holding on to his story, but visibly gave up after 2.8 seconds. “I hoped you’d realize the responsibility is nothing to be scared of.” He shook his head. “You don’t think you’ve earned the right? The trust that comes with it?”