Page 83 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

Right to the bone—classic Katie.

“I...” It shouldn’t be this difficult to find the words. After all, I’d discussed it with Logan, my mind made up. Because, really, what did I have to lose? “Yeah, I’ve got a letter drafted in my head.”

“You gonna send it, too?” she asked with the tiniest hint of a smile, and I nodded.

“That’s the plan.”

We watched each other for a moment, and God, she was… family, yeah. The sister I’d never had, and it’d been too fuckinglongsince I’d last seen her. Before I could say as much, she shot me a smirk, her tone deliberately light. “So, when do I get to meet Prince Charming?”

Logan? More like Prince Knock-Down-Every-Wall-I-Built. Lethal dimples and a brain to match.

“Soon. He’s just wrapping up a couple more things in Dominica.” I tried to keep the stupid grin off my face. “And you already met him.”

“It’s different now. Back then, he was just a cutie trying to bribe an octopus with shiny shells. Now?” She arched her manicured brows. “I’ve been working on my you-hurt-him-I-maim-you speech.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Lovely. Need a second opinion?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Another beat of hesitation passed as her mouth twisted into a thoughtful line. “What about Michael? Are you… You’re good?”

It was strange how the name barely even resonated anymore.

“I’m good, yeah. And, you know, I thought about reaching out, closure and all.” I shrugged. “But honestly, what’s the point? He’s in the rearview mirror. So if we run into each other, fine, but I’m not going out of my way.”

“Good.” She sounded deeply satisfied. “He doesn’t deserve any more of your headspace.”

“Amen.”

We stood there for a moment, listening to the distant hum of the city through the open window—honking horns, a faint siren, the occasional burst of laughter from the street below. Sunlight bounced off one wall and onto a photo I’d taken years ago. It showed a school of silvery tarpon gliding through Biscayne Bay, caught in a gleam of perfect synchrony against the warm, turquoise water.

I inhaled, lungs expanding with it. “You know, it’s good to be back.”

“It’s good to have you back,” she said quietly, a damp sheen to her eyes. “Welcome home.”

Something bright and hopeful settled behind my ribs, exhaustion briefly lifting as a genuine smile spread across my face. “Thank you.”

Miami.God.

Dominica would always hold a special place in my heart—Nia and the dive center, the humid weight of an incoming downpour. I’d grown into myself there, and a small part of me would remain anchored among the island’s brilliant blues and greens. But unlike Nia, I’d never truly belonged. I hadn’t put down roots.

This, here, was home. Still and again. The only thing missing was Logan, and he’d be here in a matter of days.

I’d arrived.

2. Milo

The Wynwood Art District screamed in color. A kaleidoscope of graffiti and murals demanded attention, dragons intertwining with abstract shapes, faces emerging from splashes of pink and blue. I felt a strange kinship with the fragmented art—trying to make sense of the mess I’d made.

I checked my watch. Three minutes early. Or five years late, depending on your perspective.

The coffee shop Logan had suggested as neutral ground with plenty of conversational hooks was right ahead. It was one of those hipster havens with Edison bulbs and reclaimed wood tables. Hurray. I just loved it when the barista judged me for ordering anything less complex than a triple-shot oat milk latte with a caramel swirl.

‘You’ve got this,’Logan had texted only minutes ago.‘Dinner’s on me tonight. Love you.’

Yeah. I sohadn’tgot this.

But I was here, and that had to count for something. With a deep breath, I pushed open the door and entered.

I stepped into the scent of fresh coffee and music by some indie band, likely with an unpronounceable name. My parents werealready there, seated at a corner table beneath a mural of a woman with flowing blue hair. Mom stirred her tea with a precision that suggested the fate of nations depended on it. Dad flipped through a magazine he wasn’t reading. They looked… older. Or maybe just cautious. Tired.

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