Page 31 of When We Are Falling

I whistle for Bandit, who bounds over, tail wagging. “Ready to hit the beach, boy?” I ruffle his ears. He barks in response, as if understanding every word.

The morning air is starting to hint at the heat to come as we step outside, the sun fully over the horizon, the sky coming alive with vivid streaks of orange and pink. Bandit jumps into the truck, settling into his usual spot with his head hanging out the window.

We head off through town, people just waking up, and pull into the beach parking lot, the familiar scent of saltwater and the sound of waves crashing greeting us. I set up the equipment in the long shadow cast by the lighthouse, and look over everything, making sure we’re ready and organized for the day ahead, before checking on the booms we placed yesterday to stop the oil spreading further.

The volunteers start trickling in not long after I’ve got everything ready. Tom’s the first, lugging bags of croissants from his bakery like usual. Joy follows soon after, pulling up in her car packed with other volunteers. I wave them over, directing them to where everything is set up.

Then Blake shows up. She’s carrying large bottles of freshly squeezed juice, her red hair catching the sunlight in a way that makes her look almost ethereal. A Greek goddess. Her smile is a burst of sunshine, full of enthusiasm as she greets everyone with her infectious energy.

Watching her for a moment, struck by how beautiful she looks. It’s more than just her face, her body; it’s the way she carries herself, the strength and warmth she so freely shares with everyone.

She catches my eye. So far she’s made no mention of what happened in my bedroom, or David showing up at the bar, and I’m not sure how to bring either subject up. I’ve never felt so far out of my depth with a woman. Ever.

She’s setting the juice up on the table and no one else is close by. Taking the opportunity, I head over to stand beside her, forcing myself not to stare like an idiot.

“Morning, you look so beautiful today.” My voice is rough in my throat, but the words are sincere. I couldn’t give Blake a line, even if I wanted to.

She laughs, mouth open, lips pink with something that smells of cherries. “Thanks.” She indicates to the bottles. “I brought juice for everyone. Thought we could use some extra energy today.”

“Good thinking. We’re going to need it. Looks like it’s going to be a hot one.” I hold her gaze, willing myself to say something more meaningful, but then the moment passes.

Blake pulls out some cups made from recycled paper and we share out the croissants and juice, her sunny expression eliciting plenty of grins in return. She’s a natural at pulling people together and getting them motivated, even though the work is grueling.

We spend the next few hours picking up tar balls, shoveling contaminated sand, and helping the affected wildlife. The once pristine beach is still a battlefield against the encroaching oil, and the physical effort is intense, muscles burning and sweat pouring down our faces.

But no matter what I’m doing, I’m watching Blake or aware of where she is. She’s tireless, never loses her smile, her words of encouragement keeping everyone’s morale up.

Just being near her makes me more self aware, more grounded and present, than I have felt in a long time.

I just need to figure out how to shift things out of the friend zone.

Chapter 15

Ethan

Toward the endof the day, I notice Blake struggling with an oil-soaked bird. The poor creature, a black cormorant, is flapping with the last of its strength, trying to get away, its feathers matted and heavy with oil.

“Hey, let me help you.”

Blake looks up, a stubbornness glinting in the deep green of her eyes. “I’ve got it,” she insists, her voice strained as she tries to hold the bird steady and avoid its frantic pecks.

I don’t back down, gently placing my hands over the bird’s wings. “I know you do, but it’ll be easier with two people. Come on, let’s get this little guy cleaned up.”

She hesitates for a moment. “Alright, but only because I care about the welfare of this bird.”

Her words linger in the air, and it’s pretty clear there’s more meaning behind them—she’s not just talking about the bird. She was adamant that night about wanting to handle the David situation on her own and I guess she hasn’t changed her mind.

“Got it,” I reply, keeping my tone light. “Let’s save this little guy.”

We work together, moving with a now practiced efficiency. I hold the cormorant gently but firmly, its body trembling in my hands. Blake carefully applies the soap, working it into the bird’s feathers with gentle, circular motions before allowing it to soak in the warm water.

“Hang in there, buddy,” I say to the cormorant, the spread of my hands holding its wings down. “You’re doing great.”

Blake meets my eyes, appreciation in her gaze before she looks back at the bird. “Thanks for the help. I just hate seeing them like this. It’s not fair.”

“I know.”

She rinses the soap off, and we continue working in silence, our movements synchronized. Finally, the cormorant is clean. Its feathers look much better, and it’s no longer struggling as much. I help Blake place it gently into a cage and put it in the shade with the other cleaned animals.

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