Rusty barks once, wagging his tail, satisfied that he’s done his job. I roll out of bed, my body stiff, and head into the kitchen.
The sun barely peeks through the clouds, and the smell of damp earth and fresh rain hangs in the air. I’m not in the mood for anything today, but I can’t sit still.
I fill Rusty’s food bowl, watching him eat with the enthusiasm only a dog could muster. He’s messy about it, bits of kibble spilling onto the floor, and I laugh under my breath.
After he finishes, I make some breakfast, my mind wandering back to the dream. It’s frustrating how often Cora has been on my mind lately.
I didn’t want to be that guy, the one who thinks about someone more than he should, especially when it’s complicated between us.
But that doesn’t stop me from thinking about her, her laugh, the way her eyes light up when she talks about something she’s passionate about. It’s impossible not to.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and start scrambling eggs, my eyes flicking to the window.
The sky is overcast, the kind of weather that makes you want to stay indoors. Part of me wants to drive into town, swing by her bakery, maybe apologize for how things went down yesterday.
Maybe apologize for the way I left things between us. But I know it’s pointless. She won’t open up to me in this weather, not with the way the clouds are hanging low like they’re about to burst.
So, I stay in.
I sit at the table with my coffee, trying to distract myself with the latest book I’ve been reading.
I’ve been diving into environmental topics lately, a mix of ecology and sustainable technologies.
It’s a hobby, something to pass the time in between working on my ideas. And that’s when it hits me again—my mind circling around the invention I’ve been sitting on for the past few months.
It’s a game changer, something that could take everything I’ve done up to this point to a new level.
It’s a solar-powered filtration system. Not just for water but for air, too. It’s the kind of thing that could be used in cities, especially in areas where air quality is low.
It’s a simple concept—solar panels that collect energy, which then power a filtration system that scrubs the air and water in residential areas.
It’s affordable, efficient, and could revolutionize how we handle pollution in urban environments. And I’m the one who gets to build it.
I pull out my notebook, the one I use to sketch out ideas when I’m not busy with anything else.
My fingers move quickly, making lines and calculations as I lose myself in the process. I patented my first invention years ago, a renewable energy source that could power small towns on its own.
It sold for nearly five million dollars, enough for me to live comfortably without having to worry about money for the rest of my life. But that’s never been the point.
The point has always been to make things better. To do something meaningful.
I can’t help but feel a twinge of pride when I think back on that first success. It was the one that really launched everything—gave me the ability to create more, to fund my own projects.
It’s the reason I can afford to live in Driftwood Cove and not worry about finances.
I’d always planned to settle down somewhere small, away from the noise and chaos of bigger cities.
I never imagined I’d be here, in this tiny town, spending my days tinkering with inventions and trying to figure out ways to improve the world around me.
But that’s where I am now, sitting at my kitchen table, distracted from the weight of the past by the potential of the future.
As the day drags on, I find myself fully immersed in the details of the filtration system.
I sketch out blueprints, make notes, and research materials I’ll need to source. Every detail matters—I can’t afford to let anything slip, not when this could be the next big thing.
Hours pass, and I’ve barely thought about anything else. Not about Cora, or Julian, or any of the mess that’s still unresolved.
Not even about Damien and the past that I can’t outrun. The only thing that occupies my mind is this invention, this idea that might actually change the world.
