by Megan Crane
He let out a breath then, long, hard, ragged. As if he’d just finished one of his revolting workouts.
“When I was hopeless,” she whispered, “the only hope I had was you. I tried so hard to hate you for that. But all I could ever seem to do was love you instead.”
“Baby.” And his voice came out of him like it belonged to someone else, tortured and wild. “Caradine. You’re killing me.”
“When I went to Germany, I had every intention of wandering off into the wilds of Europe and losing myself forever. Because that was what I always thought I wanted to do. But, Isaac. When I was finally free, when Jimmy was dead and no one was coming after me and I could finally do anything I wanted, the only thing I wanted was you.”
“Listen to me.” He grabbed her shoulders then, in a grip that might have been uncomfortable if she didn’t long for it the way she did. If it didn’t thrill her. “You weren’t wrong. Those things you said to me in Boston . . . I wanted to dismiss it all out of hand, but I couldn’t. Because you were right.”
“This isn’t about who’s right and who’s wrong,” she said, sounding as wild as he did. As if the Alaskan sea all around them was in them, too. “This is about what has always been between us. Always, Isaac.”
“From day one. I know.”
Caradine smiled, and there were tears everywhere. But she truly didn’t care. She slid her hands onto his chest. “What if, once in our lives, we got to do it over? The right way, this time. What if we got to make this one thing right?”
She watched this man, this beautiful, remarkably tough man, crumble.
She watched that storm break in his gray gaze. She watched the thunder, the rain, and then everything was silver.
Isaac dropped his forehead down to hers, and then they were both gasping for air together, as if they might never breathe normally again.
Then he was kissing her, or she was kissing him.
And it was so hot it burned, but it was more than heat.
It had always been more than heat. Even that very first night, when he’d kissed her here and changed them both. Forever.
“We don’t have to do it over,” Isaac said against her mouth. “I don’t regret a single moment of the past five years. Not if it brought us here.”
“We were always coming here,” Caradine said right back. “Always. If it wasn’t worth it, we wouldn’t have fought it so hard.”
Isaac lifted her up, wrapping her in his arms and grinning when her legs went around his waist.
“No more running,” he said. “No more hiding.”
“I won’t if you won’t,” she vowed, wrapped around him at last.
And this time, she never planned to stop. This time, she could fall asleep in his arms and wake up with him, only to do it all over again. This time, maybe he would sleep, too.
This time, they could love each other the way they should have from the start. Openly. Happily.
“The only place I’m running,” Caradine promised him, “is straight to you.”
The way she always had, even when she hadn’t wanted to admit it. Even when she’d run all the way to Maine, she’d known he would come after her. She hadn’t believed that anyone could save her, but deep down, that part of her she’d pretended wasn’t there had hoped that he would.
Because he already had.
The same way, she thought, she’d saved him. One hope, one smile, one winter made of stolen bits of happiness woven into the darkness, one at a time.
That was how they’d made it here.
That was how they’d go on.
Nothing beige about it.
Isaac kissed her again, deep and long, right there on the spot where he’d kissed her the first time. Horatio, too smart by far, barked his approval from the shore.
She would push him, but he wouldn’t break, because he was tough and strong and the kind of man who held on to the things he loved. And she would hold him tight right back, no matter how he challenged her, because she’d been waiting all her life for someone to truly love her—and five long years to allow herself to love him.
And it wasn’t a do-over. They didn’t need one.
But starting now, they were going to do it right. They were going to love each other forever, openly and honestly and always.
At last.
Caradine couldn’t wait to see how they saved each other next.
Twenty-seven
Blue married Everly while it was still technically summer. Alaska had other ideas, dressing up Grizzly Harbor in fine fall colors with the requisite cold, foggy mornings, rainy days that sometimes yielded to the moody sun, and deep, thick nights that hinted of the dark winter to come.
It was Isaac’s favorite time of year.
On the wedding day itself, all the friends and family who’d made the trek from the Lower 48 to celebrate the tough ex-SEAL and the woman who had been his neighbor as a child were treated to a little bit of the kind of Alaskan splendor that made Isaac prouder than usual to be born and bred right here, where he stood.
The bride was gorgeous, of course. Her smile was so big and wide as she walked down the aisle they’d made on the hill overlooking the water that it made everybody else smile, too.
Especially Blue, waiting for her in his dress blues.
And Isaac thought that the rest of his Alaska Force friends and colleagues stood a little taller, because one of their own was taking this step none of them could have imagined possible a few years ago. Not for Blue—and not for any of them, either.
Because when an individual had seen as much as they all had, sometimes it was tempting to imagine they’d never see anything else. Isaac knew that all too well.
But everything was different now.
Isaac stood at attention while Blue and Everly said their vows, high above the waters of the harbor. And Alaska put on a show for them, with whales spouting in the distance and a sunset so magnificent it made everyone gasp.
Still, his eyes were for the caterer of this wedding, who stood at the back of the gathered assembly.
Scowling, naturally.
And Isaac was an expert on those scowls. This one was Caradine pretending not to be moved by the ceremony taking place—or the jaw-dropping sunset, for that matter. And if he wasn’t mistaken, and he very rarely was on this subject, she was also ever so slightly stressed out about the fact that she was going to be feeding all these people.
Something she would rather die than admit.
And when her eyes met his and her scowl deepened, he knew that one was all for him.
They were figuring it out, one step at a time. The first thing Isaac had done, that night on the rock, was take Caradine back to her apartment. Where they both reacquainted themselves with each other on her bed, the way they had the first night they’d met.
And all those nights afterward.
Are you going to throw me out? he’d asked lazily, a long while later, when they were both sprawled out and breathless.
I’m thinking about it, she’d replied, grinning at him. Just for the sake of historical accuracy, you understand.
He’d done his best to convince her that history was best when it was revisited but conscientiously updated to fit the modern era.
And that was the first night that he allowed himself to fall asleep while he was lying next to her. Then stay asleep, with his arms wrapped around her and his head near hers, for the whole of the night.
He hadn’t actually known that was possible.
Good God, Gentry, she’d said the following morning when she’d woken him up, which had to be the first time in as long as he could remember that he’d had to be woken up by another person. I thought you were dead.
But the truth was, Isaac felt fully alive.
Alive and kicking for the first time since that plane had gone down so many years ago.
> In that vein, he’d called up his sister. Amy had come out to Grizzly Harbor, and the two of them had made the trek out to Uncle Theo’s cabin, where they’d spent a surprisingly pleasant night. And then all three of them had gone to the blue house there on the hill and cleaned it out at last. Until it was a house again, a potential home, not a sad grave marker to two people who would never, ever have wanted to be stuck in stone.
Mom and Dad would love this for you, Amy said fiercely after a breakfast in the Water’s Edge Café the morning she left. She was headed north to the house she kept up in Fairbanks, but only in the summer. During the winters, she and her husband left Fairbanks to the snow and subzero temperatures and poked around the Lower 48 in their fifth wheel, visiting her kids at college and usually finding their way to a selection of beaches. They would love Caradine.
Isaac had looked back at the café, standing tall and shiny and new. And its owner, who wasn’t as cheerful as the colors she’d used on her walls—but wasn’t exactly the grumpy black cloud she’d pretended to be for five years, either. Especially with her new addiction to screamingly bright nail polish.
They would, he’d agreed. They really would.
I can tell you as a parent, Isaac. Amy had smiled when she’d hugged him. They just wanted us happy.
He thought about that a lot, particularly today. Because a man he would have said had no more acquaintance with real happiness than he did looked . . . swamped with it. Blue was grinning ear to ear, especially once Everly became his wife.
“That’s forever, baby,” Blue said, though that wasn’t in his vows.
“That sounds like a good start,” Everly replied.
And it was hard to say who kissed whom, only that it sure looked a lot like forever from where Isaac was standing.
After the ceremony, everyone gathered in the big tent Isaac and the others had helped put up behind the wedding site. The whole village was invited, because that was how they did it here in Grizzly Harbor. A wedding was like another one of their beloved festivals. A local band played, everyone wandered around and got acquainted while Everly and Blue took pictures, and Caradine bustled here and there with her usual fierce energy and smart mouth, feeding all of them appetizers.
Her food had always been love. Isaac knew that now.
But tonight it was something even better than that.
Because she was happy, too, and he was pretty sure everyone could taste it. He knew he could.
Once the blue house had been cleaned, repainted, and taken care of the way it should have been years ago, Isaac had moved in.
You have a cabin in Fool’s Cove, Caradine had said, glaring at him from the fancy new kitchen of the Water’s Edge Café while she made lunch for a few tables. Why do you need two residences on one island?
Because sometimes I’ll need to be in Fool’s Cove, and sometimes I’ll need to be here, he said. He raised a brow at her. Won’t I?
I thought we were all in, she’d said, frowning at him. Or is this one of your cute little games? The ones you pretend you’re not playing when we all know you are. And then we end up going round and round and—
I want you to live in it with me, jackass. He’d cut her off. I thought that was the plan. Isn’t that what you asked me in Boston? You can stay in both places, too, unless you’d rather have your own place you can throw me out of. Are we doing that again?
She’d scowled at him. And burned a grilled cheese.
No, she’d said, grinning down at the ruined sandwich as she scraped it out of the pan. We’re definitely not doing that.
And that was how, almost five years exactly after their first night together, Isaac and Caradine not only stopped hiding their relationship, they solidified it by shacking up together. In the blue house on the hill that she’d christened with a strange painting of sailboats and red canoes.
Now, can we talk about you and Isaac? Mariah had asked Caradine a few moments later from a nearby table, grinning over the top of her laptop, where she was working on her various accounting spreadsheets.
Sure, Caradine had replied serenely. If you want a lifetime ban from the café.
Because she was still Caradine. She didn’t magically transform into a Disney princess overnight, thank God.
The truth was, Isaac liked her a little surly. He liked her grumpy, he loved that scowl, and he would have had to beat someone up if there had ever been menus in the Water’s Edge Café. Or the artistic chalkboards detailing specials, complete with smiley faces, that she showed him on her phone at night while she laughed like a lunatic.
Over the course of that first month, they both learned how to be all the things they were with each other for the first time, instead of just feeling them. Because it was one thing to make grand, sweeping announcements about how no one was hiding anymore. And it was something else to turn those statements into actual intimacy.
Waking up together. Sleeping together. Simple negotiations about things like counter space in a bathroom. There was roommate stuff, relationship stuff, and, for them, the fascinating shift from knowing each other for a long time, plus sex, into building something that was about both of them. Together.
It was like the tables his grandfather had made. It wasn’t enough to choose the right piece of wood. The wood had to reveal itself to the maker, too. Art only happened when those two things were aligned.
And if you’re lucky, his gruff grandpa had told Isaac when he was small, you figure out how to make it beautiful.
As goals went, Isaac liked that one the most.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Everly said now, clapping her hands together to get the crowd’s attention and direct it to where she and Blue stood. “Dinner is served.”
She looked over her shoulder at the long tables where Caradine had set up her offerings and was now standing off to the side, looking mulish and put out.
Everly grinned. “For those of you who aren’t lucky enough to know my friend Caradine, she’s famous here in Grizzly Harbor.”
“I wasn’t told there would be speeches,” Caradine muttered.
“Suck it up,” Isaac suggested from beside her, winning a scowl for his trouble.
Everly was addressing the crowd again. “When I first arrived in Grizzly Harbor, looking for Blue, I made the mistake of trying to order something from Caradine’s café.” All the locals groaned at that, and Everly laughed. “The thing about the Water’s Edge Café is that you don’t order. Caradine gives you what you want, whether you want it or not, and you accept that. Because it’s usually the best food you’ve ever had in your life.”
Caradine’s brows rose. “Usually?”
Isaac only grinned.
“When Blue and I decided to get married here,” Everly said, pausing for a moment to smile up at her brand-new husband, who gripped her hand like he had no intention of ever letting go, “we knew that no celebration could possibly be complete without Caradine’s food. In true Caradine style, there have been no tastings, no consultations, and Blue and I have absolutely no idea what we’re about to feed you.”
Everly looked over at Caradine then, her eyes full.
And, if Isaac wasn’t mistaken, Caradine’s eyes were suspiciously bright as well. Though if he pointed it out, she’d deny it. And probably hit him.
“But I already know one thing,” Everly said, her voice a little thick. “If you could put love on a plate, that’s what Caradine does, every single day, as long as I’ve known her. This is going to be the best food you’ve ever had at a wedding. Maybe in your whole life.”
And it was.
Later, after the crowd had stopped cheering at all the speeches, the ones that made everyone laugh, and the ones that made them cry, Isaac found his favorite caterer standing by herself, her arms crossed, biting back a smile while Blue and Everly had their first dance.
“If you came over here to say nice th
ings to me,” Caradine told him, scowling ferociously to hide the hectic glitter in her blue eyes, “you can stop right there. Mariah hugged me extensively and without my consent. Kate almost did, which was worse. And then Bethan got emotional about my salmon. I’m full up, Isaac.”
“Too bad, baby,” he replied.
He took her hand, still amazed that he got to do that. Right here in public, where everyone could see. He wanted them to see.
He drew her out with him as other couples joined Blue and Everly on the dance floor. Mariah and Griffin. Templeton and Kate. Blue’s mom and stepfather. Everly’s parents.
Isaac pulled his woman into his arms, where she still fit. Perfectly.
“I don’t dance,” Caradine told him.
He grinned down at her. “You do with me.”
And the Alaskan winter would come in hard, the way it always did. Life would do the same, throwing up obstacles and testing them to see what they were made of. To show them who they were.
Luckily, they already knew.
He spun Caradine out and she laughed, tossing back her head and letting out a sound of pure delight. He couldn’t get enough of it. And when Isaac glanced around the tent, he could see the startled looks on the faces of all these people here who loved her, too. From the bride and the groom right on down to crotchety old Otis Taggert.
Because this was family. And Caradine was theirs.
And Isaac planned to dedicate his life to making her happy, but these were the people, and this was the place, that would help keep the both of them whole.
“I love you, Gentry,” she said when he spun her back to him.
“You used to call me that when you wanted to keep me in my place. Now you do it when you’re holding me close. You can see how that’s confusing.”