Chapter 22

Chapter

Twenty-Two

As Will reverseshis boat out of the little marina and I stand there to wave him goodbye, I can’t help noticing that I’m not alone.

Murph is crouching by the cleats on the dock, double-checking the ropes securing his barge in place.

He doesn’t moor here all the time. But on a late night with a high tide, it’s not that unusual. What is unusual is the way he’s taking his sweet time. Normally, he’d linger on the barge pretending to do things until I’ve left. Or he’d speed-walk up the dock while I have my back turned.

He doesn’t hate people—he’s just very good at avoiding any conversations he doesn’t absolutely have to be involved in.

Really, Murph is just the anti-Berty. For every force, an equal and opposite force.

I’m turning to head up the wharf, and conveniently, Murph has just finished checking over the knots he ties all day, every day.

“Thank you for your help,” I tell him as he falls into step beside me and we climb up to dry land together. Not that it’s a ramp at high tide—it’s more like a walkway. “It means a lot to me. To both of us.”

Murph grunts and tips his head a little bit as he lifts his shoulder, which I think means you’re welcome in his world. But then he glances sideways at me.

Something in his expression gives me pause. He’s not going to say it out loud, but I can tell that something’s wrong.

Shit, shit, shit.

Suddenly, I’m envisioning some terrible accident—the cider barrel slipping loose and crushing Gage, or the orchard catching fire, or the festival being called off…

“Murph? What is it?” I stop dead in my tracks at the top of the wharf, just underneath the little shelter.

He comes to a halt a few steps ahead of me and turns, the gravel crunching under him as he studies me. My mouth goes dry as I scan his expression for the slightest clue.

At last, he sighs. “How come you didn’t tell him?”

Fuck.

My heart leaps into my throat as panic floods me. I’m tired and spaced-out enough that it feels like the moment a dream announces itself as a nightmare.

Fuuuck fuck bloody fucking shitty hell, that can only mean one thing, right?

“T-Tell him…” I just about manage, my voice croaking. Murph just looks at me levelly, and I shake my head slowly. The guilt is written all over my face. I can feel it.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Murph just waits for my answer, and I hang my head, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Who… who did?” I ask, my voice trembling. If it’s Murph, I can’t really be mad at him. I didn’t ask anyone to keep it a secret. And he’s probably looking out for his friend.

“I did.”

That’s Berty’s voice from nearby. He’s walking through the golf cart parking lot to meet us, Ladybird’s keys still dangling from his fingers. He holds them up with a half-hearted smile. “You want a ride, kid?”

Whoa. I’ve never gotten that offer before.

Berty must feel guilty as hell right now. But it’s not his fault, either. From him, I know it was just a slip of the tongue—and, like Murph, he didn’t know it was a secret.

It wasn’t really supposed to be a secret, either. It just became one. And that’s all my fault.

I tear my eyes away from the keys in Berty’s hand, slowly shaking my head to try to think straight. I can see my front door from here, so he’s not offering me a ride home—he’s offering to drive me to Gage’s place.

“Is it…” I trail off, my mouth dry. I gulp hard, glancing in the direction I think the orchard lies from here. “Should I even go…”

“Yes.”

The answer came from both men at the same time. I have to laugh, even if it’s a wispy, pained little noise that feels like a razor blade against the back of my throat.

If the most talkative and the least talkative man I know tell me the same thing at the same time… I should probably listen.

Berty pockets the keys and pulls out a dry tissue, and it’s only then that I realize how watery the world is right now. There are tears rolling down my cheeks, dripping silently from my nose.

I swallow back the ugly little sob that threatens to break free, accepting the tissue to dab my eyes. “I… I was just scared,” I finally whisper, staring at my feet. “I hate being helpless. Stuck. Backed into a corner.”

Then I steel myself against all the guilt and the fear that are flooding the very pit of my stomach, glancing up at both men—both of my friends.

“I never wanted to feel that way again.”

Berty nods slowly. “You don’t want to leave, do you?” he asks quietly.

Almost before he’s finished, I’m shaking my head. “Which is the worst part. I—I didn’t plan to stay this long. I knew there was a risk this place would become…”

I can’t say the word. The impossibility hurts too much.

“Home,” Murph finishes, and I nod. Then he looks at the poster board in this little shelter at the top of the wharf, and I follow his gaze.

Shit. It’s another poster for the festival. There’s my face, holding a glass of cider, Sunrise Cider logo in plain view. Smiling out of frame at Gage.

These images plaster the island. I can barely take a step without them taunting me. It’s like a smack in the face to realise that’s the very feeling I ran so far away from.

But here I am once again.

Can’t I just stay in bed tomorrow? And every day for the rest of my life?

Something in my chest twists and wrenches apart.

I can’t. Because I didn’t just break my own heart—I think I’ve hurt Gage, too. And even if he doesn’t give me a second chance, I owe him an explanation… and an apology.

I swallow hard around the frog in my throat.

“Is it too late to hand in my notice?” I whisper hoarsely.

Berty doesn’t look unkind, but he nods anyway. “I’m off work ’til Monday, son.”

“Damn it,” I puff out a little laugh, but I can’t even turn my sunshine on. I’m too distraught. “I just… what do I tell him?”

Berty draws a deep breath, like he’s preparing a whole speech, but Murph interrupts him.

“The truth.”

Berty looks startled, opens his mouth and then closes it… and then he nods. “Yeah. What Murph said.”

“Is that enough?”

“I don’t know,” Berty admits to me quietly. “But if this is meant to be… it has to be, right?”

I stop and think for a moment, my brow slowly furrowing.

I guess he’s right.

Never mind the visa. We can’t have a future together if I don’t tell him the truth… or if he isn’t willing to hear me out and forgive me. And I won’t know until I try.

“Ride?” Berty offers again, jerking his head toward his garage.

But I shake my head, because now isn’t the right moment. I haven’t earned it yet, and I know it.

“I’ll walk,” I tell them, drawing a deep breath and letting it out. “Thanks, guys.”

“Anything for a neighbour,” Berty tells me as Murph nods. “You’re one of us now, kid.”

God, how I wish that could be true… but I’m afraid it’s already too late.