Epilogue

1. Milo

By the time my plane hit the Miami tarmac, exhaustion clung to me like a second skin. I wasn’t prepared for the full force of the terminal’s cacophony—toddlers wailing, throngs of people weaving in every direction, and the scent of fast food thick in the air. After the laid-back rhythms of island life, it was like being dunked head first into a cup of extra strong coffee.

Keep moving.

Passport control, baggage claim. Arrivals.

A pink jumpsuit cut through the crowd. God, Katie. Her henna-red hair was piled high atop her head, grin wide enough to outshine a lighthouse. Something in my chest clicked into place, exhaustion lifting just slightly.

“There you are!” she hollered.

I ditched my suitcase and fell into her arms. The familiar scent of coconut sunscreen and cigarette smoke wrapped around me like a well-worn sweater, and I hung on for long seconds, maybe a minute. Home .

“Are you trying to guide ships into port?” I asked when we pulled apart. “Outfit like that....”

“Only my very favorite failboat.” With a small laugh, she stepped back. “It’s good to see you, babe. Welcome back to civilization.”

“Funny—feels more like a jungle than Dominica.”

“We’ll ease you back in.” She gave me a once-over, eyes warm. “First stop, my place. I even fluffed your old pillows, just so you know.”

Even though tiredness still weighed me down, my smile felt effortless. “You’re a saint.”

“Don’t I know it.” She grabbed my suitcase. “Come on. Let’s get out of this madhouse.”

We wove our way through the parking garage until we reached her beat-up Jeep. Traffic was just as bad as I remembered, but I drank in the city’s sprawling skyline and warm air, memories dancing at my fingertips. Good ones. Mostly.

Back at Katie’s place, we hauled my suitcase up the narrow staircase. The apartment still looked the same—colorful art, a mix of vintage furniture, and the quiet gurgle of her coffeemaker.

“Home sweet home,” she declared, pushing open the door to the guest room. “Fresh sheets and all. Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

I dropped my suitcase and looked around, familiarity settling in my bones like a low, pleasant hum. “Thank you,” I told her, more serious than I’d intended.

Her expression softened. “Of course. We’re family, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” I swallowed against the sudden prick of tears. Jesus, get a grip . “Yeah, we are.”

“Speaking of…” Arms crossed, she leaned against the doorway, hesitating for a moment. “You gonna reach out to your parents?”

Right to the bone—classic Katie.

“I...” It shouldn’t be this difficult to find the words. After all, I’d discussed it with Logan, my mind made up. Because, really, what did I have to lose? “Yeah, I’ve got a letter drafted in my head. ”

“You gonna send it, too?” she asked with the tiniest hint of a smile, and I nodded.

“That’s the plan.”

We watched each other for a moment, and God, she was… family, yeah. The sister I’d never had, and it’d been too fucking long since I’d last seen her. Before I could say as much, she shot me a smirk, her tone deliberately light. “So, when do I get to meet Prince Charming?”

Logan? More like Prince Knock-Down-Every-Wall-I-Built. Lethal dimples and a brain to match.

“Soon. He’s just wrapping up a couple more things in Dominica.” I tried to keep the stupid grin off my face. “And you already met him.”

“It’s different now. Back then, he was just a cutie trying to bribe an octopus with shiny shells. Now?” She arched her manicured brows. “I’ve been working on my you-hurt-him-I-maim-you speech.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Lovely. Need a second opinion?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Another beat of hesitation passed as her mouth twisted into a thoughtful line. “What about Michael? Are you… You’re good?”

It was strange how the name barely even resonated anymore.

“I’m good, yeah. And, you know, I thought about reaching out, closure and all.” I shrugged. “But honestly, what’s the point? He’s in the rearview mirror. So if we run into each other, fine, but I’m not going out of my way.”

“Good.” She sounded deeply satisfied. “He doesn’t deserve any more of your headspace.”

“Amen.”

We stood there for a moment, listening to the distant hum of the city through the open window—honking horns, a faint siren, the occasional burst of laughter from the street below. Sunlight bounced off one wall and onto a photo I’d taken years ago. It showed a school of silvery tarpon gliding through Biscayne Bay, caught in a gleam of perfect synchrony against the warm, turquoise water.

I inhaled, lungs expanding with it. “You know, it’s good to be back. ”

“It’s good to have you back,” she said quietly, a damp sheen to her eyes. “Welcome home.”

Something bright and hopeful settled behind my ribs, exhaustion briefly lifting as a genuine smile spread across my face. “Thank you.”

Miami. God .

Dominica would always hold a special place in my heart—Nia and the dive center, the humid weight of an incoming downpour. I’d grown into myself there, and a small part of me would remain anchored among the island’s brilliant blues and greens. But unlike Nia, I’d never truly belonged. I hadn’t put down roots.

This, here, was home. Still and again. The only thing missing was Logan, and he’d be here in a matter of days.

I’d arrived.