17. Chapter 17

Chapter seventeen

Fenella

I don't answer that.

I laugh, but I don't admit that I think he's amazing. That the more time I spend with Silas Bell, the more I want to know about him. What makes him so decent and kind? What are his favourite things, and how can I make sure he gets them?

And why in the world hasn't some woman snatched him up?

What kind of woman would he want to snatch him up?

"Where are you taking me?" I ask instead as I turn onto a road that's even more deserted than the one we were following.

"There's, uh, sort of a park along the water. Just here. Pull over here."

I do as he asks, pulling the car to the side of the road and tucking it under the trees. The spot doesn't seem like any sort of park that I've ever visited. There's a clearing near the water, but nothing is there but a bench. Like the area near the lighthouse, the ground is made up of huge rocks jutting over the ocean .

"This is a sort of park?" I ask as I idle the engine.

"Sort of. It's a bench." He huffs in indecision. "There was an older couple who used to live around here, and they would come here to look at the stars. When she died, he built a bench here."

"Is this older couple your grandparents?" I wonder.

"Great-aunt and uncle. He's the one who taught me about the stars," Silas confesses.

And he brought me to this spot that is obviously special for him. Warmth floods me as I turn off the car. "It's a perfect spot for our picnic." I reach into the back for the thermos. "Or for eating the chowder."

The car clicks as the engine cools. A cold breeze rustles the leaves on the ground and those remaining on the branches above. It's dark, deserted, and might be slightly spooky if Silas hadn't grabbed my hand as I was about to walk across the road without checking.

"Look both ways," he warns. "Cars do come along here."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

Silas's hands are large and weathered, with long fingers and neatly clipped nails. I can't help but think of how I used to marvel at Tiger's hands, with his calluses from playing guitar and his black-painted nails. They were the hands of a boy playing at being a rock star.

Silas doesn't have to play at anything. He's a man; a good man .

Still holding my hand, Silas leads me across the road and along the path to the bench. The wind is stronger, blowing off the ocean, and colder. I shiver into my pink puffer jacket—warmer than the one I wore last night, but not nearly enough protection.

"Do you have a blanket in the car?" Silas asks.

"I have nothing in the car."

He holds out his hand. "Keys. I'll check the trunk. Keep away from the edge," he warns as he takes the keys from me and heads back to the car.

I stop at the bench in the middle of nowhere and look out to the water. Waves crash incessantly with an almost hypnotic rhythm.

There are whales out there. Icebergs. Boats, like Coy in his fishing trawler.

I can't see a thing in the dark except the odd whitecap breaking over the water.

It's not until I sit down that I look up.

"Wow," I breathe.

Pinpricks of light dot the sky, which is a rainbow of shades of mauve and purple reaching to the indigo straight above me. I tilt my head back and take it all in.

"A lot of stars," Silas says from behind me.

"Uh-huh. Beautiful."

"Uh-huh." He clears his throat. "I found this." He has a wool blanket in his hands. "Coy left his emergency pack in the trunk."

"That was nice of him. How did you know there'd be something there?" I ask as Silas drops the blanket on my lap.

"Around here, everyone has something in their trunk." He joins me on the bench, the heat of his body making my right side toasty warm.

"Do you think we'll see more shooting stars?"

"Maybe." He clears his throat and moves just a little closer, so his thigh rests against mine. "But the Draconid meteor shower is due to start in a week or so."

"Meteors? Aren't they what crash into the oceans and cause giant tidal waves that destroy the world?"

"Big ones, sure, but I like to hope that's only going to happen in the movies."

I point to the water. "Because if it was real, then Laandia would be gone."

"Probably. And I like it here."

"So do I."

And I do. In the last two days, Battle Harbour has gone from a boring little town where Gunnar lives and not much happens, to a place where I like to spend time.

I'm enjoying myself here, not simply hiding out and planning my next move, and hoping time flies by.

I don't remember the last time I just sat . Not talking, not looking at my phone, just being still. I can't even meditate when I'm home, so this should be painful for me.

Only it's not.

"It's so peaceful," I tell him, still staring above.

He hums. "I like peaceful."

"I never thought I did, but I like this."

We sit in silence for a long moment, but it's not awkward or uncomfortable. We just sit , breathing in the cool air, admiring the beauty of the spot.

"No taking pictures?" he asks.

I shake my head. This is different than last night—more solitary. It's not only that my latest posts got more traffic than I expected, and that there may be a ‘Find Fenella' game on TikTok, much like Pokémon Go, but for once, I don't need to have video evidence of everywhere I go.

"Don't you take pictures?" I ask.

"Sometimes." Silas tilts his head back and I let my gaze skim the column of his throat. "But I find that people are too concerned with taking the perfect picture and miss out on so much. I think forgetting about the phone or the camera means you take in more. Enjoy it more. Experience it fully so you can have that memory, not just a picture on your camera reel that you may never look at again."

I just want to enjoy this moment. Experience it. And no one needs my memory of it.

Silas is solid beside me, my shoulder resting against his arm, his thigh pressing lightly against mine. His coffee/pine/sweet-something scent surrounds me, making me think it might be nice to get a little closer to him. Not just for warmth but because he smells really good .

What would happen if I slid onto his lap? Rested my head against his chest? Twined my fingers in his wavy hair, teasing the curls at the back of his neck. Moving my mouth close enough to touch my lips against his.

The image hits me like a wave crashing against the rocks below.

What would happen if I acted on it?

What could happen is that he might be surprised enough that he'd dump me in the water by accident, so I best not try any of the above. Silas gives me the impression that he moves at a slower pace than I'm used to, so I check my speed.

"We should have chowder," I decide. "Only… I don't have a spoon."

"Well, that's a shame." He takes the thermos from me. "But this here is a cup, so we're good. It is soup, after all." As Silas carefully opens the silver container and pours a cupful, I spread the blanket across our laps, careful not to knock his arm.

Not to touch him at all because I'm afraid if I do, I'll forget about surprising him and give in to the urge and crawl right onto his lap.

I've never stopped myself from acting on my attraction to a man.

If I meet someone and there's a connection, I act on it. I don't wait for him to call or make the first move. There's no wondering if he'll kiss me tonight or wait for the next date .

I'm a go-getter. If I see someone I want, I go get him. It's how every single one of my relationships has begun—me taking initiative.

I'm not going to do this with Silas because I don't think me making the first move on this new attraction is the right thing to do.

This attraction isn't exactly new—if I'm being honest, I've been secretly interested in Silas since the first time he handed me my pumpkin spice latte, with the hearts etched on the foam. I just never imagined ever being in the position to do anything about it. We're from different worlds. Small town, big city. He drives a solid, staid Corolla and I race around in my flashy yellow Charger.

That says it right there.

But when Silas hands me the cup of chowder, steam rising and the scent of cream and butter and lobster making my mouth water, something inside me says that maybe sliding into his world might not be the worst thing.

"Thank you," I say, brushing my fingers against his as I take the cup. I blow on the soup before I take a sip and then— "Oh. Wow." Rich, creamy broth flavoured with lobster. Chunks of lobster meat. "This is so good." I moan, taking an even bigger mouthful.

"Smells good."

"I'm going to eat it all unless you stop me," I warn.

"Take as much as you like. I'll just sit and listen to the sounds of your appreciation."

It sounds… interesting… the way he says that. And then I take another mouthful and moan again.

Oh.

"Do you come here often?" I ask to take my mind off everything else it's thinking.

"Not really. I've come a few times by myself, brought Wyatt a couple more."

"What's the best thing about living here?"

"The water," he says. "When I went to school, I couldn't hear the waves and it took me forever to fall asleep. The sound, and the movement… it's like a part of me."

"So you have to live here forever."

"No, I just need to be near water. Preferably the ocean." He glances over. "Where do you live? I don't even know that."

"I'm ‘from away' as everyone calls it. That's all you need to know."

"I'd like to know more."

The sincerity in his tone twists my stomach in a good way. Trying to tell my heart to quit with the high-speed pitter-patter, I finish the chowder and hand the cup back to Silas. "Your turn. My father has houses in Los Angeles, London, and an apartment in Tokyo," I begin. "There's another apartment in New York and a place in St. Lucia. I live in any number of those places, depending on what I've got going on, unless I'm staying with one of my friends. "

"Your friends are—"

"The Billionaire Brats. You can call us that. Unlike the Brat Pack of the 1980s, we don't take offence."

"You don't seem too bratty," he muses, holding the cup of chowder up and breathing in the smell.

"Tell that to my mother. No—" I make a cutting motion with my hand. "I am not about to ruin a perfectly nice evening with thoughts of her."

I hold my breath as Silas sips, expecting him to pepper me with questions about my parents. But he doesn't.

"You mentioned in the car that you refuse to regret anything. What if you did?" Silas asks. "What would you regret?"

"Never falling in love," I say without giving it any thought.

"You've never been in love?" he asks with surprise. "But you've been engaged…"

"Unfortunately," I agree. "And maybe I thought I was in love at the time, but looking back, I'm not sure. What I felt for them wasn't what I thought love feels like."

"What do you think love feels like?"

I have to think about that for a moment; a long moment, enough for Silas to finish the cup and offer me more. I ask for half a cup.

"This," I finally admit in a low voice. "Not— this ." I gesture between us with the cup. "But being comfortable. Being able to be myself with someone. I always felt I had to be the person they wanted me to be. Not me."

"Are you able to be just you very often? "

"Not really, no. I think that's why I like it here. I'm just able to be me , and no one is judging me, or laughing behind my back, or trying to win me over because they want something from me."

Just saying that makes me feel sad.

I nudge Silas with my shoulder. "You're not allowed to ask all the questions. What do you like about living here?"

He takes a deep breath. Is that a slight lean towards me, or is it in my head? "The community. Obviously not everyone, but I like that we're all in this together. We get through the storms together, we get to have a really cool king. We care about each other, there's always support. It's like family, but more."

"I've never had that before," I tell him wistfully. "I have my friends and I love them, but other people aren't that supportive. It's different here. Meeting Sophie and Leodie, even Laura—it makes me feel good. Being here makes me feel good—when I'm not feeling left out because I don't have my own community."

"This can be your community," Silas assures me. "When you're here."

I can hear the unspoken question in his voice. How long will you be here?

I don't want him to ask out loud because I don't know the answer.

"What's that star?" I ask to fill the silence. I point to a bright light in the sky .

Silas takes the cup and refills it for himself. "That might be the International Space Station," he says with a chuckle. "But that one—" —he moves my hand— "—is Aldebaran, part of the Taurus constellation."

"The Bull. I'm a Scorpio myself."

"I might have been able to guess that, if I followed that sort of thing."

"Stars, but not horoscopes. Got it."

Silas finishes the soup and sets the thermos on the ground before us. I adjust the blanket and we sit quietly for a long time, looking up.

"Why did you hire me?" I ask finally.

"I thought you'd be fun," Silas says softly.

"And what do you think now?"

"I suspect you might be more fun than I can handle. You did kidnap me, after all."

I smile with cold lips. "I persuaded you with lobster chowder. There's a difference."