Page 36 of Timber Ridge
We drive for another twenty minutes. Each time the ATV hits a bump, he instinctively reaches out to steady me. His hand is quick to ensure I'm safe, an action that makes my pulse quicken. I'm so aware of his closeness, and it seems like more than just a reflex. When we arrive, his hand falls away, leaving a ghost of his touch. I step down, my skin still tingling from the contact.
He helps Hailey out and then walks us to the door, where he kisses her on the cheek. As he steps away, a swirl of anticipation stirs within me. There’s a fleeting moment where our eyes meet, and in that instant, I'm filled again with boldness that only comes from not wanting to let a moment slip away. Before I can second-guess the impulse, I close the distance, reach up, and plant a kiss on his cheek.
“Have a great day,” I say.
I watch him walk away, and there's a sudden drop in my stomach, a mix of gladness for the connection we just shared and the disappointment of him leaving. I’m left standing there, slightly breathless, wondering what the rest of the day will bring and how long it will be until he comes back.
Chapter Fourteen
KANE
The sea's churning up something fierce today, matching the storm brewing inside me. Aurora is battling the waves, her old metal frame groaning against the swell. She's been a good boat, but every trip out is a gamble these days.
When Timber kissed me on the cheek, it was like a jolt through my system. I didn't expect it, yet I hoped for something, some sign. It wasn’t the kiss I wanted—no, I wanted something deeper, but I'm treading carefully, unsure of crossing lines that might change everything.
In that moment, I wanted to pull her in for a real kiss, to show her just how much her being here meant to me, but I held back. It’s a precarious balance between this growing need for her and the protective walls I’ve built around Hailey and myself.
I attempt to shake her from my thoughts and focus on the day's goal of catching lots of salmon. Beyond the usual boundaries I set for myself, there's a stretch of water where the current runs just right, and the depth drops off, giving way to the rich feeding grounds that salmon can't resist. Though it’s far out there, Dad used to say it was like a dinner bell for the fish—the way the river runoff hits the saltwater, mixing up a perfect cocktail of fresh and brackish that the salmon love. It's where he and Grandpa would bring in hauls that were the stuff of local legend. While I would have liked to experience it with Dad, I have no idea when he’ll return, and my needs can’t wait. I steer Aurora toward it, thoughts of a new boat fueling me.
As the familiar shoreline fades into the distance, and the only sounds are the slap of waves against the hull and the call of seabirds overhead, there's a sense of calm. My grip on the wheel is steady until I reach my destination hours later. I carefully drop the nets, watching as they disappear into the blue depths.
Time slips by, marked by the rocking of the boat and the sea. My arms work in time with the waves, pulling in the nets heavy with thrashing, silver-bodied salmon. Each one that hits the deck is a whisper of a new start, a sturdier boat beneath my feet, and a safer future for Hailey and me.
I allow myself a rare moment of pride as I survey the swelling hold. It's a good day's work, the kind that could mean a real change in luck. The thought of that new boat, sleek and reliable, edges closer to reality with each fish I ice down.
Hunger hits, and I go for the cooler. Timber's packed lunch is nothing fancy, but you can sense the care put into it. I tear into a sandwich, and it's good, really good. Then I spot her note under the chips. Unfolding it, her handwriting greets me, neat and sure.
Kane,
This is just a little something to keep your strength up out there. Don't worry—I've got you covered. Good luck today and come back safely.
Warm food and warmer smiles are waiting for you back home.
T
Just a few words on a scrap of paper, but it's like sunshine breaking through the clouds. She's here with me, in a way, out on the water. It's funny how something so small can lift you. I read it again, and I can almost hear her voice. I'm chasing the day's catch, but it's Timber's thoughtfulness that catches me off guard, making me grateful in ways I don't expect.
I stare out at the horizon as I remember her face—her smile. It's a strange sensation, unsettling but not unwelcome. For a moment, I let it wash over me, that sense of wanting something more. This thing building between us—it’s like a current, strong and silent. I’m not sure where it's headed, but it's clear now. Ignoring it isn't an option anymore.
A distant murmur of the storm has been a low growl on the horizon for hours, but as the first drops of rain pelt the ocean's surface, they're like cold little warnings against my skin. I should head back and steer Aurora to the safety of the harbor. But the nets are full, bowing deeply in the water. The haul is too good to abandon.
With Timber watching over Hailey, it seems safe to take some risks out here. I push Aurora harder, thinking of the future I'm trying to build. There's a saying that rings in my head— no risk, no reward—and today, that seems truer than ever. It's a shot at a better tomorrow. Comfort seeps in. The idea of this being my new normal—it’s a tempting thought. But as the storm picks up, so do my doubts. It's a gamble, out here on the rough waters, and so is letting someone in. But maybe, the risk is worth the chance of a reward, like having Timber as part of my forever.
Heaving the nets aboard, my muscles scream while rain slicks my face, mingling with the salt spray kicked up by an increasingly angry sea. I've got the rhythm down, a routine I've done a thousand times before, but today, my thoughts betray me. All day, I've shoved these thoughts aside, telling myself there's no room for distraction. But now, as I'm surrounded by the ocean's roar, I let myself think of her—the softness of her lips and that damn near-kiss.
A sudden squall hits, Aurora lurches, and for a split second, I'm a rookie again, fumbling.
The net catches my foot and coils around it. For a terrifying moment, as the boat tips precariously, I'm nearly dragged overboard into the icy water. I fight it, kick hard, my chest pounding louder than the storm.
I manage to free myself. A harsh laugh is caught in my throat, more from relief than amusement. It's a mistake that shouldn't happen, not with my experience. But then, I hadn't counted on being so damn distracted.
As I haul the last of the catch in, the wind howls at my back. I know it's time to go home. The storm won't wait for the likes of me, and there's too much to lose now.
The tempest's fury intensifies as I steer Aurora from within the confines of the weather-beaten cabin. With every giant swell, she groans, a sound that echoes the fear tightening in my chest. The sturdy metal around me is the only barrier between me and the chaos outside. Yet, as the waves crash against us, the cabin offers little comfort. The glass windows, streaked with salt and rain, are my only eyes to the outside world, now covered by the storm's rainy wrath.
Despite the cabin's protection, the cold seeps into my bones. My clothes cling to my skin, damp remnants of the struggle on deck. I'm shivering, partly from the chill and partly from the onset of a realization I've been trying to ignore. Aurora isn't invincible.
I'm fighting the wheel as Aurora pitches and rolls. This is bad, worse than I expect. I need to get out of this mess, not just for me, but for Hailey. She needs her dad. And Timber—she's stepped in without asking for anything in return. I can't leave her to explain to my little girl why I didn't come back. My brothers, they're tough, but I'm the one they count on to hold things together.