Page 13 of Breaking Through

"And if you happen to need a certain park ranger's permission to photograph them?" Parker's eyes twinkled.

"Then I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." I sipped my coffee, letting its warmth spread through me. "One step at a time."

"You know," Cole said as our coffee cups hit empty, "from a purely business perspective, the park content has been great for the blog's engagement."

Lightning flickered outside, briefly turning the diner windows into mirrors. In that flash, I caught my own reflection. My cheeks flushed, and my hair dried in waves that would misbehave later.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The pieces about Michigami State Park resonate with readers." Cole pulled out his tablet, ever the data-driven business manager. "That story about the new accessible trails? Second most-read post this year. People care about the park, even if they don't always notice the work that goes into maintaining it."

Parker explained. "That's because Holden captures it differently. Remember that photo series about the morning fog on the trails? The comments were full of people saying they'd never seen the park that way before."

Cole nodded. "It's interesting—the park's become this heart of the community, but most people only see the surface. They don't realize how much thought and care goes into keeping it both wild and accessible."

"While being staffed by exceptionally dedicated rangers." Parker smirked slightly at me.

I felt my cheeks warm. "Can we maybe not discuss the park staff while looking at your blog metrics?"

"Hey, the numbers don't lie." Cole turned his tablet so I could see. "Your social media posts about the park's programs and conservation efforts get fantastic engagement. People respond to authenticity, Holden. The way you capture the park, and the way you tell its stories—it's different from the usual tourist snapshots."

"That's because Holden sees the heart of things." Parker reached for Cole's hand. "It's why I hired him."

"It's why you hired him for the social media position," Cole corrected. "But he's become essential toTales of Blue Harborbecause he understands what makes this place special. Just like the park staff does, even if they show it differently."

I stirred the remains of my coffee, watching the liquid swirl. "Some of them barely interact with the public at all."

Thunder rumbled outside, and I found myself wondering what other stories the park held, waiting to be discovered and shared.

"Just... don't give up too easily on those park stories." Cole's voice sounded wistful. "Sometimes people need someone to see the beauty in what they do, even through the morning mist."

I shook my head. "You're getting poetic for a business manager."

"It's the storm. Makes everyone philosophical." Cole glanced out at the rain. "Particularly those on a search for beauty."

"I haven't even decided if I'm trying to find anything."

Parker snorted. "Right. That's why you drove halfway to the state park in a hurricane this morning."

"It's not a hurricane anymore." I corrected him. "Just the remnants of—" I stopped at their knowing looks. "Okay, fine. Maybe I'm a little invested."

"A little." Cole repeated the crucial words. "Like the park is a little important to this town."

The lunch crowd started to filter in, shaking off umbrellas and stomping wet boots. The growing buzz of conversation mixed with the storm's constant drumming, but our booth was like its own island, protected by coffee steam and shared secrets.

Thunder rolled again, somewhat softer now, almost contemplative. Like the storm was settling in for a long conversation with the lake.

My phone lit up with another text from Maria:

"Still good here. He's napping."

I thought about Wade out there in the storm, doing what rangers do best—protecting, preserving, and keeping others safe. But who made sure the guardians were looked after? Who watched over the watchmen?

Chapter six

Wade

Ihadn't looked at the papers I held in my hands for months. I pulled them out to prepare for a 9 a.m. meeting at the shelter with Holden. The pages were starting to yellow at the edges, and the text was slightly fuzzy. They were photocopies of local coverage of the shelter's history, plus art reviews from Milwaukee papers and even a few preservation guidelines I'd tracked down through interlibrary loan.

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