Especially then.
Chapter 6
Shifting Patterns
River
River stared at the same pH reading for the third time in five minutes, his concentration shot to hell and back. The numbers blurred together like alphabet soup, meaningless data that normally would have his full attention but today felt about as important as counting grains of sand. His mind kept drifting to auburn hair catching afternoon light, to brown eyes that seemed to hold secrets he desperately wanted to decode, to the way Finn had fit against his chest when he'd caught him from falling.
“Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head and forcing himself to focus on the water samples arranged across his lab bench. “Get your shit together, Hayes.”
But his brain had other plans. Instead of chemical analysis, he found himself replaying every moment of yesterday's tide pool exploration, from Finn's genuine fascination with marine ecosystems to the charged moment when they'd almost kissed to the comfortable domesticity of sharing coffee in his cottage. Thememory made his chest warm and his hands slightly unsteady as he tried to measure precise amounts of testing solution.
Something about Finn's instant understanding of marine ecology nagged at him, though. Not in a suspicious way—more like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit but felt important. River had spent years teaching undergraduates basic tide pool concepts, and most people needed multiple explanations before they grasped ecosystem relationships. But Finn had absorbed complex information like he already had the framework to understand it.
The lab door opened with its usual squeak, and Dr. Reeves walked in carrying her ever-present clipboard and the expression of someone who'd noticed things weren't quite right. River straightened automatically, trying to look like he'd been absorbed in important scientific work instead of daydreaming about a certain bookshop owner.
“Good morning, River,” she said, settling into the chair beside his workstation with the careful attention of someone preparing for a potentially difficult conversation. “How's the data analysis coming along?”
“Fine,” River replied, then glanced at the samples he'd supposedly been processing for the past hour and realized he'd made almost no progress. “Actually, maybe not so fine. I'm having trouble concentrating today.”
Dr. Reeves followed his gaze to the largely untouched samples, then back to his face with the perceptive look that made her such an effective supervisor. “Everything okay? You seem distracted, which isn't like you. Usually I can barely get your attention when you're in analysis mode.”
River considered deflecting with some excuse about poor sleep or equipment problems, but Dr. Reeves had been mentoring him long enough to see through bullshit with laser accuracy. Plus, she'd been encouraging him to developconnections outside of work for months, so maybe honesty wouldn't be completely unwelcome.
“I met someone,” he said finally, the admission feeling both natural and terrifying. “Someone I'm interested in. And apparently my brain has decided that's more important than marine chemistry.”
Dr. Reeves's eyebrows rose, but her expression was pleased rather than concerned. “Someone interesting enough to derail your legendary focus? This is significant news.”
“Maybe too significant,” River admitted. “I've known him less than a week, but I can't stop thinking about him. We spent yesterday afternoon exploring the tide pools, and it was...” He trailed off, searching for words that wouldn't sound completely ridiculous. “It was the best afternoon I've had in years.”
“That's wonderful, River. You've been isolating yourself since your father's death, and while your research is important, human connection is equally necessary for long-term wellbeing.” Dr. Reeves leaned forward with genuine interest. “Tell me about him.”
River found himself describing Finn with more enthusiasm than he'd shown for anything non-marine-related in recent memory. The bookshop, the restoration work, Finn's gentle intelligence and surprising knowledge of coastal ecosystems. The way they'd communicated like old friends despite being strangers, the domestic comfort of sharing coffee and conversation.
“He sounds lovely,” Dr. Reeves said when River finally paused for breath. “And you sound happier than I've heard you in months. But I have to ask—is this affecting your work quality? Because while I support your personal growth, we have research deadlines and data that marine conservation groups are depending on.”
River looked at his neglected samples with a mixture of guilt and something else he couldn't quite name. Not defiance, exactly, but a growing sense that maybe there were things more important than perfect data collection. “It's affecting my concentration, but not my commitment to the work. I just need to figure out how to balance things better.”
“Balance is good. Obsession, whether with work or relationships, is not.” Dr. Reeves stood and moved toward the door, then paused. “Take the afternoon off. Get your personal life sorted, then come back tomorrow ready to focus. The ocean will still be here, and so will the data.”
After she left, River sat alone in his lab, surrounded by the familiar chaos of scientific equipment and marine samples that had been his world for the past two years. But today, it felt incomplete. Like he'd discovered there were rooms in his house he'd never bothered to explore, and now the space he'd been living in felt cramped and insufficient.
He found himself pulling out his field notebooks, flipping through pages of observations and data that suddenly seemed connected to Finn in ways he couldn't explain. Weather patterns that might affect optimal diving conditions. Ecosystem recovery rates that paralleled manuscript restoration techniques. Marine behavior observations that felt like they'd been written with Finn's insights in mind.
River shook his head, telling himself he was seeing patterns that weren't there. But the feeling persisted—like his research and his growing connection to Finn were part of the same story, written in a language he was only beginning to understand.
The harbor-side pub where River and Jake usually met for lunch was crowded with the usual mix of local fishermen, Coast Guard personnel, and tourists who'd discovered that the best seafood came from places that looked like they might collapse if you sneezed too hard. River found Jake at their regular table in the back corner, already nursing a beer and wearing the expression of someone who'd been waiting for juicy gossip.
“You look different,” Jake said without preamble as River slid into the opposite chair. “Good different. Like you remembered you're a human being instead of a marine biology robot.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.” River signaled the waitress for his own beer, then settled back to endure what he knew would be thorough interrogation about his personal life. “Dr. Reeves noticed too. Apparently my legendary focus has turned into legendary distraction.”
“Because of bookshop guy?”
“His name is Finn, and yes.” River accepted his beer with grateful hands, taking a long drink before continuing. “We spent yesterday afternoon together, and it was...” He paused, trying to find words that wouldn't sound like something from a romantic comedy. “It was perfect. Easy and comfortable and exciting all at the same time.”
Jake's grin was knowing and slightly smug. “You're falling for him.”
