Page 82 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

She knew me too damn well.

Kyle nodded sagely. “Yeah, that’s one of my patients’ greatest hits.”

“What’s this?” I raised my hands, palms up. “National Gang-Up-On-Milo Day?”

“Somany dirty places this could go,” Kyle commented, while Logan’s knee pressed harder against mine.

“Will you?” he asked in an undertone, the words meant only for me. “Reach out to your parents, I mean. If you’re really going back…” His eyes were soft and hesitant, like the idea of me coming to Miami with him was something he’d yet to grasp fully.

“When I go back,” I corrected, reaching up to thumb at the corner of his mouth until it lifted for me. Only then did I continue. “And… maybe. Yeah. I think so.” The words tasted heavy and raw on my tongue. “I mean, what’ve I got to lose, right?”

He covered my hand with his own, fingers slotting together. “Hey, I’ll be right there with you. Whatever happens.”

“I know,” I said, and what I really meant was,I love youandI trust youandthis is it—for me, you’re it.I didn’t say any of that. But the way Logan smiled at me, our ankles knocking together under the table, told me he’d heard it anyway.

I’d arrived.

EPILOGUE

1. Milo

By the time my plane hit the Miami tarmac, exhaustion clung to me like a second skin. I wasn’t prepared for the full force of the terminal’s cacophony—toddlers wailing, throngs of people weaving in every direction, and the scent of fast food thick in the air. After the laid-back rhythms of island life, it was like being dunked head first into a cup of extra strong coffee.

Keep moving.

Passport control, baggage claim. Arrivals.

A pink jumpsuit cut through the crowd. God,Katie.Her henna-red hair was piled high atop her head, grin wide enough to outshine a lighthouse. Something in my chest clicked into place, exhaustion lifting just slightly.

“There you are!” she hollered.

I ditched my suitcase and fell into her arms. The familiar scent of coconut sunscreen and cigarette smoke wrapped around me like a well-worn sweater, and I hung on for long seconds, maybe a minute.Home.

“Are you trying to guide ships into port?” I asked when we pulled apart. “Outfit like that....”

“Only my very favorite failboat.” With a small laugh, she stepped back. “It’s good to see you, babe. Welcome back to civilization.”

“Funny—feels more like a jungle than Dominica.”

“We’ll ease you back in.” She gave me a once-over, eyes warm. “First stop, my place. I even fluffed your old pillows, just so you know.”

Even though tiredness still weighed me down, my smile felt effortless. “You’re a saint.”

“Don’t I know it.” She grabbed my suitcase. “Come on. Let’s get out of this madhouse.”

We wove our way through the parking garage until we reached her beat-up Jeep. Traffic was just as bad as I remembered, but I drank in the city’s sprawling skyline and warm air, memories dancing at my fingertips. Good ones. Mostly.

Back at Katie’s place, we hauled my suitcase up the narrow staircase. The apartment still looked the same—colorful art, a mix of vintage furniture, and the quiet gurgle of her coffeemaker.

“Home sweet home,” she declared, pushing open the door to the guest room. “Fresh sheets and all. Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

I dropped my suitcase and looked around, familiarity settling in my bones like a low, pleasant hum. “Thank you,” I told her, more serious than I’d intended.

Her expression softened. “Of course. We’re family, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” I swallowed against the sudden prick of tears. Jesus, get agrip. “Yeah, we are.”

“Speaking of…” Arms crossed, she leaned against the doorway, hesitating for a moment. “You gonna reach out to your parents?”

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