"At the ferry dock. People talking while they waited for the supply boat."
"People talk." His voice was flat. "Doesn't make it news."
"They said Derek was driving. That everyone knew Derek was driving, but somehow you ended up bearing the blame anyway."
The muscles in Wes's forearms tensed visibly. He set down the section of the net he'd been working on and stared at his hands.
"They said your family turned their backs on you when things got complicated."
"Eric." The tone of his voice sounded like a warning.
I looked at him directly for the first time since sitting down. His profile was sharp against the fading light, jaw clenched tight.
I continued to speak in a soft tone. "I don't want to hurt you, but I don't want to pretend I didn't hear what I heard. And I sure as hell don't want to pretend yesterday didn't happen."
Wes finally turned to meet my gaze. His eyes were the color of slate. "What do you want me to say? That it was hard? That I've spent all these years on this island because going home meant watching people cross the street to avoid talking to me?"
"I want you to stop treating me like I'm one of them, and I'm going to do the same thing."
Wes blinked once, processing something he hadn't expected to hear.
"You don't know me well enough to prove that."
"Maybe not. But I know myself well enough to mean it."
A gust of wind rattled through the clearing, sending loose sections of the net fluttering like captured birds. Wes stood abruptly, abandoning his work. "Getting late," he muttered. "Should head in."
Instead of walking toward the cottage, he turned toward the path that led to the bluff—the high ground that overlooked the open ocean. I watched him take several steps in that direction before stopping, his shoulders sagging like he didn't have enough energy to run away.
I left the rope coil where it was and followed him—not crowding, only following.
The bluff was Ironhook's highest point, a granite outcropping that jutted into the Atlantic like a ship's prow. The path up was steep and narrow, carved by decades of footsteps that had worn the rock smooth. Wes climbed it with the fluid efficiency of someone who'd made the journey countless times.
I found him standing at the edge, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, staring out at the water that stretched unbroken to the horizon. The sun hung low and orange, painting the waves in shades of copper and gold. A fishing boat moved across the distant swells.
The kind of view that belonged in someone else's life—one without my complications.
I sat on a flat section of granite a few feet away from Wes. "You said something once about how quiet lets you breathe. Sometimes, though, silence doesn't soothe. Sometimes, it suffocates."
Wes's hands clenched inside his jacket pockets.
My voice was barely above a whisper. "Sixteen years is a long time to hold your breath."
The wind picked up. Wes turned toward me.
"You think I want to be this way? You think I chose this?"
"No, I think you survived it. You built something here that kept you alive when everything else fell apart."
"Damn right I did." His voice cracked slightly. "You know what it's like to have everyone you trusted decide you're not worth the trouble? To wake up one day and realize the people who raised you would rather pretend you never existed than deal with the mess you've become?"
The raw pain was evident in his voice. I wanted to reach for him, but something in his posture warned me to stay still.
"I learned to stop wanting things." He stared back out at the water. "You know what I wanted most after the accident? Just to hear my name said without pity. That's it. Something that simple, and I couldn't have it. The people who matter most will find a way to disappoint you, and the ones who don't matter... they'll leave anyway."
He crouched down and picked up a piece of sea glass from the granite ledge—smooth and green, worn transparent by years of storms. He turned it over in his palm, thumb tracing its edges.
"Found this my first week here," he said quietly, examining the glass. "Left it where I found it—thought it was worthless. It was broken bottle glass that got beaten up by the ocean."
