Page 38 of Tide Over

Liam sets his mug down and pushes his sleeves up, the warm sun coaxing him to roll them higher. As he does, my eyes land on the tattoos that cover his right hand, fingers, and forearm. It’s completely covered in ink, but one in particular catches my eye. It looks fresher than the rest of them, and I recognize it as the Triquetra — a Celtic knot with interwoven lines and endless loops, symbolizing the eternal bond between friends.

I divert my eyes as Liam catches me looking at it, and I shift my gaze out over the water. But before I can scold myself for checking out his ink, Liam surprises me.

“I got it for a friend,” he says.

I turn my head to look at him, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the ocean.

“He died.”

My heart sinks as I take in the emotion written all over his face.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say quietly.

His text to me yesterday flashes in my mind, as I remember what he said about knowing how quickly everything can change, and that he ended up here because he couldn’t make himself go home.

Liam just nods stiffly, still looking out over the water. His fingers fidget in his lap as his jaw tics, and it looks like he’s just barely holding it together.

I know that feeling.

“I thought my life was over when my dad died,” I say, dropping my eyes to his hands as he picks at his fingers.

He turns to look at me, his eyes full of sadness.

“I learned everything from him,” I continue, releasing a breath. “He was my best friend. We did everything together, and I wanted to be just like him. I know I’ve said it felt like I didn’t have a choice, and this was all decided for me, but… I also wanted to walk in his shoes. Because to me, he was everything.” I pause for a moment as emotion swells and catches in my throat. “And then all of a sudden, he’s gone, and I’m doing it all without him. It’s a heavy weight, and a lot to manage.”

Liam nods, his eyes flicking between mine. “How did you do it?”

I release a sigh and shake my head slightly. “I don’t know if I’m the right person to ask.”

He nods again and brings his gaze back to the water.

But I keep mine on him.

“Time does help,” I say softly. “And… I’m here if you want to talk. I think my biggest mistake was keeping it all in.” I pause as Liam looks at me, and warmth rushes through me once again. “Keeping everything in.”

His brow furrows a bit as he keeps his eyes locked on mine, before he gives me a soft nod. “Same.”

A soft breeze rustles his hair as we sit here, side by side. And as we look into each other’s eyes, another layer of understanding passes between us.

And I want nothing more than to reach out and touch him. To comfort him and take away whatever pain he’s feeling.

But then his eyes soften as they gently roam my face. “Thank you.”

All I do is nod, because more words feel unnecessary. In this moment, the quiet between us says it all, and the connection we share speaks louder than anything we could put into words.

SIXTEEN

Miss Bobber pounceson her toy mouse, her little paws swatting it towards me. I bat it back, chuckling as she scrambles across the kitchen floor in hot pursuit. The smell of coffee fills the kitchen as I stand and look out the window, watching the gentle waves lap against the shore.

I managed to sleep in for the first time in what feels like forever. After yesterday’s long flight and the last three weeks of intense, non-stop work, I needed it. Though I woke when Theo came down the stairs this morning, the comforting sounds of him getting ready for work eased me back into a deep sleep. I can’t remember the last time I slept that long, or that well.

As I gaze out the window at the wide expanse of the ocean, my thoughts remain on Theo. I keep thinking of yesterday, and the conversation we had where we each shared something so deeply personal. Telling him about Nick’s death almost broke me right there in front of him… but as usual, he understands. And like always, he didn’t push for more. He remained a calm, comforting presence, and shared more of himself as well.

Even now, as the familiar ache of grief begins to swell again, it feels different. The need for pain isn’t as demanding, and thethoughts urging me to punish myself aren’t as loud. It still hurts, and I still want to hurt, but it almost feels… manageable.

And I have no idea how to feel about that.

But what I do know is that I don’t feel so alone in those feelings of sadness and grief anymore.

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