Every Step of the Way: (Smugglers Cove #1)

by Anna Lindgren

  Hilary glances over at me throughout the night. We haven’t talked much since I told her I was leaving. I know it hurts her, I just hope, one day, she’ll understand why I had to go.

  We close up, and I place my hands softly against the door once it’s locked up tight.

  “Thank you,” I whisper slowly into the quiet night air. With my final goodbye, I step away.

  Hilary and I decide to walk along the dock through town on our way home, a sense of sadness overwhelms me.

  “You don’t have to go,” Hilary says softly as if reading my thoughts.

  “I know, but I do.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  I laugh. “I know it doesn’t. I haven’t made much sense these last few weeks.”

  “Have you told Jake?” She turns toward me.

  “No,” I say flatly as I look straight ahead.

  She doesn’t fight me, but it’s clear she doesn’t agree with my decision to leave and to not tell him. The thing is, I’m petrified that if he knew, he would convince me to stay. I wouldn’t be able to say no to him. I couldn’t face those dark eyes that have a way of searching through me and finding the truth. I would be completely shattered if he ever chose to walk out of my life for good.

  We make it home, and my thoughts continue to flow through me. I lie in bed, awake, as I stare up at the ceiling. My heart feels slow and heavy. My soul feels empty, like there is this piece of me missing. I shake my head at myself and do my best to remind myself nothing has changed. I’m the same as I’ve always been.

  Nothing is different.

  But it is different, I think. Everything is different since Jake. When we met, a piece I’d been missing clicked as he fell into place so effortlessly, and now I’m leaving for fear of the destruction his love would inevitably leave.

  Coward.

  If I told him before I left, he’d never let me go. I know, without a doubt, if he asked me to stay, I would. He’d toss me over his shoulder and carry me home. The idea of being caged beneath his arms sends chills across my skin, and my mind drifts back to our night together.

  My hand brushes across the surface of my skin that he once claimed like he had found new territory—space no other man had explored. He staked his claim on me the moment he brushed himself against me. He left an imprint across my body as if to say, ‘this is mine,’ and I let him.

  I wanted someone to see me the way he did. See that I was tired of keeping it together the best I could. I wanted someone to see me fall apart, someone to see all my imperfections and choose me anyway. I wanted him to see me that way, vulnerable, and he did.

  Fear aside, there would be no denying him, and if he wanted me, he could have me. I couldn’t deny this feeling between us. I couldn’t look into those eyes, feel his rough skin against mine, and say no. I feel, even if I left, ran away, he would spend his life searching for me, doing everything he could to bring me back to where I belong—with him.

  I roll over and grab my phone off the side of the bed. I’m going to text Jake, by chance he sees it before I get on the ferry tomorrow, then maybe I would stay—if he asked me to. If not, it isn’t meant to be.

  Me: I’m leaving for home tomorrow.

  Me: I just wanted you to know.

  I place my phone back on my nightstand and roll over, willing myself to get some rest before my early morning and long day of travel.

  Surprisingly, sleep doesn’t come. Instead, my brain works through all of the issues I’ve been hiding from: my dad abandoning me, my resentment toward my mom, and my feelings toward Jake. Feelings I know won’t go away.

  I will spend the rest of my life trying to suppress them with other people, knowing they won’t ever measure up to the love I once had. Knowing if this past month was all we had, then at least we will leave it perfectly incomplete.

  * * *

  I awake, startled, the next morning to the blaring sound of my alarm. I stumble out of bed in a hurried mess, checking my phone as I stand.

  No messages.

  I breathe deeply, feeling a pang of disappointment. I do my best to remind myself it’s okay. He was supposed to be home yesterday evening, so he should have seen my text by now. Maybe he meant what he said, go home.

  The thought stings through my core, and fear washes over me like a wave as I wonder how he might feel about me now. “Doesn’t matter,” I mutter to myself and close the bedroom door behind me. Hilary’s in the kitchen waiting for me with a cup of coffee.

  “Ready?” she says with a weak smile. She’s trying hard to pretend like everything’s okay, even though I know she doesn’t feel that way.

  “Yep,” I try to sound more enthusiastic than I feel, hoping she will believe I’m okay with this decision, even though it doesn’t feel right.

  We drive the short commute to the ferry terminal and I run inside the old, makeshift hut to get my ticket. Since we don’t have a local airport, we have to take the state ferry to the larger island of Ketchikan and get on a flight there.

  I get back in Hilary’s car, ticket in hand, and spend the last of our moments together. It’s another low cloud coverage day, the rain is pummeling the pavement and large raindrops spread across the channel. The tinkering of rain consumes our voices as it crashes against the top of Hilary’s roof.

  We make plans to see each other next year and laugh about our adventures while I lived here. She makes jokes about how she is glad to be getting her bathroom back to herself and I poke fun and remind her how much she will miss me.

  The smile across her face falters a little, and I see tears well in her eyes.

  “Don’t you dare cry,” I scold her, turning away, knowing if I see her cry, I won’t be able to hold mine back.

  “I can’t help it!” she wails as she wipes her tears away.

  “Ugh, jerk,” I say, looking back at her, wiping my own tears from my cheeks.

  We laugh together, and I pull her in for an embrace.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper into her wavy blonde hair.

  “I’m sorry,” she says as she pulls back. “I’m sorry this place couldn’t convince you to stay. I’m sorry Jake was an ass and didn’t hear what you had to say. Maybe if he had, things would be different. Maybe if he hadn’t thrown a fit, you wouldn’t be leaving.”

  I shake my head. “I would be leaving either way. You know me. I can’t hold on to anything good for too long,” I try and make a weak joke at my expense.

  Hilary glares at me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “If you keep trying to convince yourself you aren’t worthy of good things happening, then you will continue to believe you aren’t capable of them.”

  “I’m not doing that,” I argue.

  “You totally are,” she fights back. “Figure your shit out, or the rest of your life will be spent blowing everything up because that’s more comfortable then sticking it out.”

  I clear my throat. “Alright.”

  “Alright, good.” She opens the car door, and I follow suit. We meet at the front and wrap our arms around each other once more.

  “I’m really going to freaking miss you,” Hilary says, her voice crippled from emotion.

  “I’m really going to miss you, too.” I let the tears flow freely as another sob bursts from my chest. “You are my family, Hil.”

  “And you’re mine,” she says.

  We stand there embracing one another, not knowing the next time we will see each other. Hilary sighs heavily and pulls apart from me as the ferry horn signals my impending departure.

  “Go, or you’ll miss the boat.” She says with a weak grin. “Then I really won’t let you leave.”

  I smile back and make my way down the long, tunneled ramp, turning around as I go to wave goodbye to Hilary and to take in the sight of Smuggler’s Cove.

  I’m going to really miss this place, my home.

  Twenty-Five

  Jake

  Ryan slows the boat as we putter through the harbor. We slowly approac
h the slip before I jump onto the dock to tie us off to the cleats. The weather is disgusting giving the rampant town an illusion of lifelessness. My eyes scan the harbor looking for the comfort of a familiar face, but hers is nowhere to be found.

  I wonder if it has always felt this gray on weather days like today or if it feels darker because of how Cammie and I left things. After a few grueling talks with Ryan I’ve decided, as soon as the boat is unloaded, I’m going to see her. I’ll go to her house and apologize for being an ass and if she’s chosen Brandon, I’ll convince her to reconsider. I’ll do what it takes to make my case.

  She doesn’t love him like she loves me, and he won’t ever love her the way I do.

  “Well, that was a shit trip,” Ryan describes the last few days with precision.

  “Agreed,” I say, grabbing a tote off the boat and hauling it onto the dock.

  I have layers of gear on and still feel soaked to my bones. We had to stay another night out in the field due to having more streams to sample and because the trip was sprung on me last minute, I didn’t have time to run out to my house and grab the satellite phone. I hated that I couldn’t let Cammie know we were staying another night. I didn’t want her to worry or think I was still upset.

  I felt discarded when she had asked me to leave. After I had some time to cool down, I realized that was my own insecurity in our relationship. I knew she was scared, and I constantly felt like any wrong move might send her running.

  I would apologize for it all, every single time. I would hear her out even if I didn’t want to listen to what she had to say. I was never going to not want to hear her voice.

  Ryan and I have nearly finished unloading the boat when a springy, petite blonde starts making her way down the ramp.

  “Ugh,” Ryan says, defeated, with a dramatic eye roll in my direction. I look up quickly to see what he’s groaning about—Samantha.

  For crying out loud.

  “Shit,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head.

  “Hey, boys,” Samantha’s sing-song voice travels over the water.

  Ryan nods his head, and I do my best to avoid eye contact. I grab a large load and begin walking up the ramp. Samantha doesn’t take the hint and continues to vie for my attention despite carrying heavy gear on a slick dock.

  “Hey, Jake,” it doesn’t get past me how awfully chipper she sounds.

  “What can I do for you, Samantha?” I ask, annoyed.

  “I just came to check in and see how you were doing.” She rubs a hand along my shoulder. I jerk it away reflexively.

  I groan as I reposition the tote in my arms but she continues talking away about whatever the hell she wants while I’m more focused on trying not to drop the tote on the ground. Once at the top of the ramp, I ease the tote into the back of the truck.

  “I was just wondering if you wanted to grab a bite to eat sometime,” she says.

  “You know I’m already seeing someone,” I say, tossing a hand through my hair, brushing it out from my face.

  “Cammie?” She pulls back, disgust written across her face.

  “Yes, Cammie,” I say, irritation getting the better of me.

  “But she—"

  “Samantha, I don’t know what you’re doing here. I’m not interested in seeing you. I’m only interested in Cammie,” I say, tossing my hands out to my side.

  “I just thought, since she left, that you guys broke up,” she says, dropping her eyes to my shoes.

  Confusion sends a tidal wave over me. I couldn’t have heard her right. Did she say Cammie left? That we broke up? Confusion swallows every word my brain tries to formulate, I can’t speak. Instead, I stand there, gawking at Samantha like a complete idiot.

  “Do you,” She swallows. “Do you love her?” Her eyes look up to meet mine.

  I nod.

  Her expression changes and becomes softer. It seems as though my disinterest has finally resonated. Ryan approaches us at the top of the ramp, setting his tote down.

  “Samantha,” he says with disdain.

  “Ryan,” her icy voice clips back.

  I can’t catch my breath. My heart is hammering against my chest, ripping apart my ribs. I try to speak, but nothing. I’m lost for words, caught in a standoff between Ryan and Samantha who are glaring each other down.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, finally willing myself to speak. “Did you say that Cammie left?”

  Ryan whips his head toward me with the same look of confusion I feel.

  “Yeah,” she says bewildered. “She left this morning. She’s going home. I thought you knew.”

  “When?” I demand just as my phone pings in my pocket. I reach for it and pull it out to see two texts from Cammie.

  “She told me she’s moving back to Denver, last night at the Fish House.” She scans my face. “She’s never going to be one of us, Jake. She’ll never understand our way of life the way we do.” She reaches for my arm, but I rip it out of her reach.

  “It’s her,” I croak the words out. “She’s leaving.” I look up to Ryan with trepidation in my eyes.

  Ryan clasps a hand to my back, “go.”

  Without another thought, I bolt toward my truck, fumbling the keys out of my pocket, dropping them onto the gravel parking lot.

  “Come on,” I groan, struggling to unlock the driver’s door. I rev the engine and tear out of the parking lot, speeding toward the ferry terminal. “Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter, when I see the clock and realize I may be too late. The ferry was supposed to leave ten minutes ago.

  My heart rips across my chest, filled with adrenaline at the thought of losing Cammie. I hate this feeling, I haven’t felt helpless since my dad died. I couldn’t do anything then, but I sure as hell can do something about this.

  I reach for my phone and try dialing Cammie’s number. It goes straight to voicemail.

  “Shit,” I mutter, trying again. Straight to voicemail again. I leave a message anyway. “Don’t get on the boat, Cammie. I’m on my way.” I plead. “Don’t get on the boat, please. Don’t leave.”

  I hang up, and a million thoughts race through my head. Is she leaving because she chose Brandon? Could she really just walk away from me like what we had never mattered? This doesn’t feel like the Cammie I held in my arms. These aren’t the actions of the woman I got to know over the past month. The very woman I fell in love with the moment I laid eyes on her.

  I pick my phone back up and dial Hilary. She answers on the first ring.

  “Jake?” She sounds like she’s been crying.

  “Hilary,” I shout out as I release the breath I’d been holding. “Where is Cammie? What’s going on?”

  “She,” Hilary breaks her sentence with a sob. “She’s leaving. I tried to stop her. She’s made up her mind. She isn’t coming back.”

  My heart breaks at the finality of Hilary’s statement. I hang up the phone without another word. She can’t be leaving.

  I speed through town and wave at the cars I nearly run off the road. I can explain later, when I have the chance, but if I don’t rush to her now, I might never get the chance to find her again. Cammie’s a piece to me I didn’t know I was missing. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on her, I was drawn to her with a magnetic pull. I was as certain of it as the tides that come and go with the ocean.

  When I was growing up, my mom used to tell me stories about soulmates. How she and Dad were each other’s. I believed it as a child, knowing one day I would meet mine. As a teenager, and then an adult, I realized it was just a romantic story, some sort of crutch my mom used for never going out and meeting someone else. It wasn’t until I met Cammie that I knew, I knew instantly this was it, she was the person made for me.

  I skid into the parking lot at the ferry terminal and see the boat’s still docked up.

  “There’s still time,” I mutter to myself as I toss my seatbelt off and jump out of the car. I run inside and see Alan working the front desk. He’s not his normal, blurry-eyed self. I guess I’ve never
seen him at work before. Or sober, I think.

  “Alan,” I pant at him, placing my hands on either side of the window.

  “Jake,” He greets me with a warm smile.

  “I need to get on the boat,” I point toward the ferry, trying to catch my breath.

  “No can do,” he gestures his thumb over his shoulder. “She’s leaving.”

  “Alan, you don’t understand. I need to get on that boat,” I plead and see a glimmer of mischief behind his eyes.

  He strokes his long, graying beard and leans far back into his chair. “Sounds like you are awfully desperate to get on this boat here.” I nod, waiting to see where this is going. “Might not be a problem if, say, that property of mine had the right permits.”

  For just a moment, I’m confused, and then it hits me. Alan is extorting me.

  “You can’t be serious,” I say incredulous.

  “Oh, I’m as serious as those fish in my damn stream,” he says, frustration accenting every word.

  “Yes, fine,” I say without another moment of hesitation. I watch his smile grow wickedly across his rough, windblown skin.

  He grabs his radio. “Hold the door; we’ve got one more coming down,” he radios, and I hear the reluctant agreement from the crew.

  Alan salutes me as I peel out of the building and down the long, tunneled ramp. I peer up at the large vessel as I race onboard, waving at the crew who permitted me on as the familiar faces stream past me in a blur as I sprint up the stairs.

  The ferry is packed this time of year, filled to the brim with tourists and locals alike. I work from the stern to the bow on every level in a rush but I don’t see her. I jog toward the back of the boat where the cafeteria is and search through the sea of people.

  Nothing.

  I maneuver past couples and families, apologizing as I bump and collide into them.

  I rush toward the front lounge next and see captain seats filled with people but still no sight of Cammie. I try calling her again, but her phone goes unanswered.

  The horn blares out once more, marking our departure from Smuggler’s Cove. We start to slowly drift from the dock as I jog up the stairs to the movie lounge. I peer through the rows and rows of people but still see no sign of Cammie amidst the dimly lit theater. I pace back and forth between the rows, squinting my eyes as they adjust to the lack of light.