Page 111 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

“The charging ports and the electric vehicles too?”

His eyes brighten. “The electric SUVs were Quinn’s idea. Unfortunately, they don’t make electric sea planes yet.”

“That’s all so thoughtful.”

His eyes fill with remorse. “I know I hurt you, Lexie.”

“I made mistakes too. I shouldn’t have gone up to the camp.” The memory of fire crawling up the ceiling, filling the air with black, acrid smoke makes my breath hitch.

“You were only trying to honor your heart, Lexie. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

His words wash through me like a soothing ocean wave. “You saved my life.”

Carefully, he brushes the hair back from my face. “You saved mine long before that.”

“Dawson,” I whisper. “I wish we could start over.”

He cradles my face. “We can, sweetheart. We can start right now.”

Tears burn my eyes. With shaking hands, I reach for him. He kisses my cheeks where the tears are spilling down, then presses his salty lips to mine.

“You’re all I want, Lexie. That’s what matters to me.”

“I want you too. So much.”

He kisses me again, his warmth and tender desire setting off sparks inside me.

“But what about Brielle won’t let you go, after all of this.”

“I have a workaround, but it’s going to take time.” He kisses me softly. “We’re going to have to be patient.”

I laugh and wipe my cheeks. “Are you nuts? Patience isn’t my strength.”

He smiles. “But determination is. Say yes, Lexie. Say we can start again.”

“Yes,” I gasp. “Right now.”

He grabs me and lifts me up in a spin. I hold on, laughing and crying as the room spins.

* * *

My first dayin my new studio, after I get a fire going and the tea kettle heating, I gather my materials and open the envelope with my locket. The oval face has a dent from when I was thrown to the ground during the explosion, but the etched design and the hinge survived. I just need to fix the jump ring and replace the friction clasp, which snapped off.

After dipping the broken section of the jump ring into the flux solution, I clamp the new piece of replacement metal into place and carefully fuse them with the torch. Once it’s cooled in the water tub, I move on to the friction clasp.

When Mom first gave me the locket, I liked to open and close it. The tiny wedge of metal that is forced into the hollowjust rightwhen it closes creates a very satisfying sensory experience—a softsnapas well as the feel of the metal pieces fitting together perfectly. But Mom explained that the clasp was too fragile to be played with. So I stopped, and to this day rarely open it.

To fix the clasp, I have to solder a tiny scrap of metal in place where the old one broke off. It has to fit perfectly into the gap on the other side. It’s a more delicate operation than what I normally do. The pictures inside are protected with resin, but I need a way to keep them from melting when I fuse the new clasp. I could cover them with a layer of heat shield putty, but that risks damaging them.

Using my magnifying loupe, I search the oval seam for a way to safely peel away the picture. If I can get it off, it’ll give me a chance to fix the dent from the inside. A section of the lower right edge is not as flush to the metal frame as the top. I take my pointed blade tool and slide the tip alongside it. There’s a good chance I’m going to break my blade, but I manage to work the tip deeper into the space.

I use my vice to gently grip the locket so I don’t accidentally slip and slice my hand, then continue working the blade around the edge of the picture. Separating the resin from the frame is like cutting glass with a butter knife, so it’s more of an exercise in leverage than precise cutting. When I get about halfway, the knife hits something solid. I try wiggling the knife tip, repositioning it, but the knife refuses to move.

I’ve got about half the picture—it’s the one of Mom as a baby, dressed in a white christening gown, her big hazel eyes serene in her cherubic face—enough that I can pry open a gap that reveals the cavity beneath the picture. I don’t have a high-powered light out here yet, so I use the flashlight feature on my phone to peer inside. What is blocking my knife?

I need another set of hands. I can’t hold the loupe, light, and knife at the same time. But Dawson and Jared are practicing for an upcoming show and Evan took the rest of the clan camping.

Could I wedge something in place of the knife tip to hold the space open? After several tries, I finally get a scrap of metal in place. The gap I’m staring into is maybe two millimeters wide, and the space is smaller my thumb. I peer at the place my knife got stuck. There’s something in there. It’s got straight edges. If it’s extra metal fused to strengthen the thin metal plating from the inside, there’s no way I can get around it.

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