Page 92 of Forget Me Not

“It needs fixed,” I grunt, messing with shit I know nothing about.

I’ll be honest, when Sophie brought it up, I knew it wasn’t the job for me, but then Nova told me about how expensive it is to get people to come out to the island to fix things, I just . . . couldn’t let her do it on her own.

So, here I am, fixing a century-old boiler in an old and musty basement in the off chance it makes her smile.

Manto’s right. I am fucking whipped.

“I told her to hire someone,” Manto says, taking a seat on an old stack of lumber that looks like it crossed the Atlantic on the Mayflower. “She’s stubborn.”

I snort, turning some old nuts with a wrench so I can feel like I’m doing something, at least. “Tell me about it.”

“Saw you spent the day with her family yesterday. How did that go?”

Chucking the wrench down, I fall on my ass on the floor and rest my elbows on my knees, defeated. Might be time to have Beth look the boiler up on the internet and print me out instructions on how to bring the dead back to life.

“They’re good people.”

Manto nods, though his expression is anything but cheery.

“They are, I guess.”

I eye him as he runs his tongue over his gold tooth, seemingly lost in thought.

“You guess?”

He shrugs. “They were pretty hard on Nova about moving out here and taking care of the inn. Just didn’t sit well with me. She’s young, but she’s got a good head on her shoulders. She’s smart. Too nice for the likes of people like you and me.”

You can say that again.

“Have you ever thought about finding something else?”

“No. Cooking’s what I love. I told Nova, so long as she’s here, I’ll be here. This family’s done a lot for me. For the town. I want to be a part of that.”

“Sounds like a damn Hallmark movie,” I mutter, scrubbing my hands on my jeans. Beth is going to be pissed when I hand her my laundry—she’s been doing it for me, refusing to allow me to do it myself because, as she says, Old Clunk isn’t the easiest beast to wrangle.

Manto chuckles, running his hand over the back of his head.

“How you think I landed Tara?”

“Touché.”

“You hear about your boat, yet?”

I shake my head, moving back to the boiler. I can see a few disconnected lines hanging out in the back, right by the Godzilla of spiders.

“No, but I’m going to have to go out tomorrow. Already got a boat lined up with Al.”

“You need help?”

I pause, looking back at him. “You fish?”

“I know my way around the job. If you need help, I can come out with you.”

I almost tell him no. I’ve never fished lobster with another person, but . . . I’m pretty fucking far behind. It would take weeks on my own to catch everything up and with my helping at the inn, my time is getting limited.

Part of me enjoys that I’ve been able to keep busy while trapped on the island. I can fix things around the inn that most people probably don’t know how to do; help Nova. Maybe pull her in a closet like I did this afternoon, just so I can catch a few seconds alone with her.

The other part, the part of me that enjoys the freedom the water gives me, fucking hates it. It’s not what my life is. I’m not a schedule man. I don’t do anything by the book and that stagnant feeling I’m always waiting for will surely creep in when I’m least expecting it.

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