Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

Rose

I settle into my usual spot on the houseboat deck. Today, inspiration feels like it’s within reach. This trip has sparked something in me, a flow of creativity that I haven’t felt in ages. I’m ahead on all my paid work for once, including this branding project I’m doing for an author client. I’m making excellent progress on some logo options, and I can’t help but think that with all the extra sketches I’ve done of the coast, I’m about to walk away from this trip with a greatly expanded portfolio.

I add some finishing touches to the logo, double-checking against the client’s previous feedback to ensure I’ve captured everything she wanted. Perfect. After attaching the file to an email, I send it off, eager for the client’s feedback. Just as I press send, my phone lights up with an incoming call, and I can’t help but grin when I see Heather’s name.

“Hey, stranger!” she chirps. “I just looked at the landscape image you sent – it’s perfect! The red rock mesa is exactly what I had in mind, and the colors you chose match the yarn samples perfectly. My clients are going to love this project. I’ve chosen an ombre shawl for them to knit, so those earthy oranges, purples, and that dusky pink will look stunning together.”

“I’m so glad you like it. Let me know if you want any changes,” I say, pleased as hell that she loves it. “I can’t wait to see how it all comes together in the craft boxes.”

“Nah, no changes needed. It’s perfect, just as it is. But forget about that for a moment; I want to talk about your hot new boy toy. Tell me everything.”

“We need to get you back on the dating scene since you’re so obsessed with my love life. You need to stop trying to live vicariously through me,” I tease.

Heather groans dramatically. “ Come on ! Don’t leave me hanging. Tell me how it’s going.”

My heart flutters, and I find myself smiling. “It’s… it’s amazing. He’s amazing.”

“And? Spill it – what will happen when you come home in three days?”

Three days. It’s like a distant bell ringing through me, bringing a weight I’m not ready to face. “I don’t know. I haven’t yet worked up the courage to ask the ‘what are we’ question. I keep telling myself I’ll wait for the right moment… but I’m running out of time.”

“Where is he now?”

“Out on the fishing boat. He’s been on it most of this week, helping Captain Mike. I’ll see him for dinner later… and after,” I add, trying not to blush at my words.

Heather laughs knowingly. “You, my friend, are a goner. What have you been up to while he’s out working?”

“Mostly relaxing, working on my art, and exploring the area,” I say. I leave out the part about spending time with a kraken.

Heather sighs, the way only she can when she’s about to say something blunt. “Well, you know I’m rooting for you two. But you need to talk to him. Long-distance relationships work all the time. Even if it doesn’t, wouldn’t you rather know that you tried and it didn’t work out for sure than spend the rest of your life wondering?”

I chew my lip, the ache of her words settling in. Of course, she’s right. “I know, Heather. I’ll… I’ll talk to him. Promise.”

“Good. I love you, Rose. Do I still need to pick you up from the airport?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, please. Try stopping me.” She laughs again, a bright sound that makes me feel connected across the miles. We exchange our goodbyes, and I turn back to my laptop, trying to refocus. But my thoughts keep drifting to Levi and what I will say to him tonight.

I start to open another file, but all I can think about is Levi’s face when he looks at me, that warmth in his stormy eyes. Every day, I’m trying to figure out how to broach the subject, all while counting down the days until I leave with a growing sense of dread. I don’t even know where to begin, and suddenly, all my confidence after talking to Heather evaporates. Should I be direct about my feelings, or try to ease into the subject that’s been consuming my thoughts?

Time blurs as I try to focus, but my mind is a restless storm.

As I wait, my phone buzzes with a text from Levi: Hey, Rose. I might be a little late tonight. The boat’s engine is giving us trouble, so we’re working on getting it fixed. I’ll keep you posted when we’re done.

I feel a pang of disappointment, but I type back quickly: Be safe! Good luck with the boat.

Almost immediately, an I miss you followed by a heart emoji appears on my screen and my pulse flutters. I can practically feel him smiling on the other end of the screen. I shake my head at myself, but I can’t stop grinning, feeling the warmth of his message settle into me.

For an hour, I try to focus on my art, but my attention keeps drifting to the sea. I pause every few minutes to scan the water, waiting for any sign of my kraken. His absence feels wrong. By now, I usually sense him close by, a quiet presence that’s grown as familiar as my own heartbeat. But today, there’s nothing.

The reminder of my limited time here fills me with a sense of urgency to find my kraken. Grabbing my kayak, I slide it into the water, and soon, I’m paddling out of the marina, heading to the usual spots where we hang out.

I glide past rocky outcroppings along the coast, checking each of our favorite spots. I check the narrow cove lined with tall pines, a small hidden beach where waves gently lap at the shore, and even circle a small, seaweed-strewn island dotted with seabirds. By the time I reach our mooring buoy, my arms ache from the steady paddling, and a hint of exhaustion weighs on me. I scan the water’s surface, glancing into the depths, but he’s nowhere in sight. As I drift near the buoy, the water is unusually still, amplifying the quiet surrounding me. I try to shake off my worry and paddle around the mooring buoy once more before placing my oar across my lap and letting myself rest while I drift. I wait, the gentle rocking of the kayak the only movement in the vast, empty water.

Minutes pass, and just when I’m about to give up, that familiar sense of other ripples through the water around me, just as a murky shadow passes beneath my kayak. The water stirs, rippling in wide circles as something massive moves beneath the surface. Relief floods me. Leaning over the edge of the kayak, I call out, “Kraken, there you are! I was starting to worry. We have a little extra time today – Levi’s still out working on the fishing boat.”

But there’s no immediate response, no playful brush against the kayak. Instead, it remains below me, a dark shadow. The silence stretches into what feels like an eternity. Unease creeps into my voice as I call again, “Is… is everything okay, kraken?”

When the creature finally surfaces, it rises like a living mountain from the deep. I freeze, a chill prickling my skin. The posture, the darker coloration, the cold, calculating eyes – this isn’t my kraken.

The dark leviathan looms above the water’s surface, its unblinking stare pinning me in place. Every instinct screams danger as those eyes study me with calculating intelligence. My throat dry, I manage to whisper, “Hi… um… I mean no harm.”

It doesn’t react, its gaze remaining cold and unyielding. My stomach cramps with apprehension. I don’t know this kraken; I don’t know if it even understands my words. My thoughts flash to the scars covering my kraken’s body, marks that came from another of its kind.

After a few more moments of tense silence, it reaches out and wraps a tentacle around my wrist. The touch isn’t sweet or gentle like my kraken’s; instead, it’s impersonal, almost clinical, as if I’m an object to be inspected. I tense, feeling the roughness of its suckers as it continues to examine me in a detached manner that borders on rudeness, pressing against me in ways that feel invasive, yet thankfully not painful.

“Stop it,” I manage, trying to sound firm but hearing the tremor in my voice. The creature continues its methodical examination, indifferent to my discomfort. Heart pounding, I reach for my oar, intending to push it back or whack it if it won’t let me go. However, the kraken plucks it from my hands with one of its other tentacles, flinging it away.

Panic rises in me as hostile energy begins to radiate from the kraken, its posture and coloring are far different from my kraken’s gentle, calming presence. I look around, realizing with a sinking feeling that I’m too far from shore to call for help. I am alone with a creature that doesn’t seem to have any intention of letting me go.

As I am looking around for help, it wraps a thick tentacle around my waist before I can react. I claw at the rubbery appendage, trying to pry it from me. The grip tightens, unyielding, and I scream, “Let me go!”

My scream bounces off the waves and fades into nothing. The vast ocean stretches empty in every direction. Terror grips me by the throat as the full weight of my situation crashes over me. I’m in danger.