Page 3 of Breaking Through

Sarah raised an eyebrow as she fashioned my usual latte with an extra shot. "Is there a lucky guy? Don't tell me you had a morning date with a seagull again. Those stories make me worry a little about you."

Buying time, I sipped the latte and considered my words. "Hard to know whether there was luck involved, but my morning photography was a little more interesting than usual."

As I expected, my mysterious comment sparked her curiosity. She leaned across the counter, wafting aromas of coffee and vanilla toward me. "Did you meet a handsome stranger? Or… was it a Lake Michigan merman? There are tales about those."

I chuckled. She didn't know how close she came to the truth. "I don't think he had a tail, but he was at ease in the water. I'm certain of that."

Sarah shook a finger at me. "Holden, you are not allowed to step away from the counter until you share every last detail. Who was it? How did he look? And the key question, is he single?"

I held up my hands. "Honestly, I haven't got much to share. I saw him. He stood there, shedding water like a Greek god. About all I remember is a lot of muscle and a brooding stare." I took a breath. "And then he disappeared."

Sarah swooned. "So romantic… like a movie. We could call itTides of Passion, something ridiculous and fun."

I smiled between sips. "Parker's blog has gotten to you, hasn't it? Blue Harbor is still a real place, not a platform for fairytale romances."

Sarah reached out to grip my hand. "You have to learn. This town has a touch of magic you don't find in most places. Go drink your coffee and shuffle off to work, but I want a complete update if you ever run into Poseidon—or was it Neptune—again."

I found my way to my usual corner table. As I sat, I felt something in my gut. It was tingly. Something was happening.

Pulling out the Polaroid snapshot, I rested it on the table before me. It was time to study the man who emerged from the lake's water. The entire image had a soft focus due to the mist in the air. It did give the man an almost mythical appearance.

I followed the outline of his body with my index finger. Somehow, I'd captured the essence of the moment well. A shiver raced through my body. Was this an important moment? Would the stranger enter my life again?

For a moment, I reflected on the dozens of shots I'd taken since Parker handed me the camera. I had a slew of sunrises and sunsets, laughing faces, and the gnarled fingers with mottled skin of the old men who met every morning at Joe's Diner.

They were all fascinating to look at, but the subject matter was ordinary. None of those photos made my pulse quicken like the one I'd captured less than an hour ago.

Who was that man in the photo? Was he someone I'd seen around town fully dressed, but I'd passed him by? Or was he a visitor, a tourist, who loved swimming in the Great Lakes? The romantic side of me—the side I figured I'd left behind while cycling across the Steel Bridge back in Portland—hoped that I had seen him before and would again.

While I sipped my coffee, I started weaving stories about the stranger in my brain. In one, he was a reclusive writer tucked away in a cabin in the woods. In another, he was a friendly forest ranger, a bit shy around people but absolutely comfortable in nature.

Stop it.I shook my head. I had plenty of responsibilities to keep me busy in my real life. I had a challenging job, and I had Grandpa to look after. There was no need to add a romantic fantasy to the list.

But still…

I couldn't shake the feeling that the morning adventure would turn out to be a significant turning point. As if all the pieces of my new life—moving to Blue Harbor, working for Parker, caring for my grandfather, even my daily ritual with the Polaroid camera—had been leading to that moment when the lake delivered a stunning mystery.

Carefully, I tucked the Polaroid into my battered leather journal, between pages full of notes about Parker's Blue Harbor stories. Tomorrow, I'd return to that same stretch of beach. Maybe he'd be there, or maybe he wouldn't. For the first time since arriving in Blue Harbor, I felt something entirely new stirring in my chest—not just acceptance of my new home, but anticipation. Possibility.

The lake had been harboring a huge secret, and it had finally decided to share.

Chapter two

Wade

Lake Michigan cradled me like a lover I didn't deserve. I surrendered myself to her cold embrace in the early morning whenever I could, counting strokes until the burn scars stopped screaming. One-two-three-breathe. One-two-three-breathe.

The rhythm was as familiar to me as my heartbeat, and the water was dark and private in the pre-dawn light. I could read the lake's moods like a weather map. This morning, she was restless, small waves slapping against my shoulders with unusual force.

Bad weather was coming. I could taste it in the metallic tang of the air and feel it in the way the water seemed to pulse with gathered energy.

I'd chosen the hour carefully. Usually, I encountered few tourists with their chattering voices and pointing fingers. After Labor Day, they were almost entirely gone.

No locals walked their dogs so early. It was just the lake, the first rays of morning light, and the kind of solitude I'd spent three years cultivating since I left Chicago—since I'd tradedin my firefighter's helmet for a ranger's badge and a need to disappear.

The spring-fed depths soothed places deep beneath my skin. Surrounded by inky water and wisps of mist, I could ditch the nightmares and remember why I chose a northern Wisconsin ranger position over running into burning buildings.

For a few minutes every morning, I forgot the screams that still echoed in my dreams and the choices that haunted me.

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