Page 18 of When We Are Falling

He doesn’t mention the kiss, or the fact I ended up half-naked, thank God, and I smirk, trying to keep my cool despite the butterflies in my stomach. “Always. Just don’t get in my way, Mr. Boss Man.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Bandit trots over, and Ethan reaches down to ruffle the dog’s fur. “Who’s a good boy, huh?” His voice is filled with affection. Bandit wags his tail furiously, looking up at Ethan like he’s the center of Bandit’s world. And it’s clear the feeling is mutual.

“You really love that dog, don’t you?”

Ethan glances at me, his expression tender. “Yeah, he’s my buddy. Always has my back.”

Everyone gets to work and Ethan remains by my side, shovel in hand as I hold a bag open for him. We soon settle into a rhythm, working efficiently together, chatting with that ease we’ve always had, and I’m glad things aren’t awkward between us, despite last night.

“Remember that time in biology when you accidentally set your hair on fire?” Ethan teases, dropping a load of oily sand into the bag.

We were lab partners in the same biology class in senior year, and spent almost every lesson driving our teacher, Mrs. Hill, mad with our incessant chatter.

I laugh, shaking my head. “It was an experiment gone wrong! And it was a tiny flame. Besides, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who knocked over the Bunsen burner.”

“Details, details. I seem to remember being the one to put it out, though.”

“Yeah, by dumping an entire bucket of water on my head!”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it? And you were cooler for the rest of the day.”

I shake my head, laughing. “You’re impossible. It was the middle of winter!”

“And yet, you keep coming back for more.”

“Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment,” I reply, my heart beating a little faster.

“Or maybe you just like my company.” He’s staring at me.

“Don’t get too full of yourself.” I try to sound stern but fail miserably.

We keep shoveling tarred sand into bags until Tom calls out from across the beach, “Has anyone seen the extra shovels?”

“They’re over here.” I raise a hand and wave at Tom, before bending down and grabbing the sack of tools. “Hey, Mr. Boss Man, think you can handle this heavy lifting?”

Ethan hoists the bag effortlessly. “Watch and learn. This is what real muscle looks like.” He flexes his biceps.

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t throw your back out, old man.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m surprisingly flexible, and I’ve got plenty of stamina.” The way he looks at me, I know he’s no longer talking about lifting tools.

“Blake! Can you give me a hand here?” Carlos calls to me from the other side of the beach.

“Saved by the bell.”

Ethan leans in close, his breath warm against my cheek. “For now,” he whispers before straightening up.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. This day is going to be interesting, that’s for sure. I just need to keep reminding myself we’re friends. Nothing more.

I cross the beach quickly, where Carlos tells me what he needs. We start by laying absorbent booms along the waterline to keep the oil from spreading further, then scoop up the contaminated sand and rocks, dumping them into heavy-duty bags for proper disposal. It’s a messy, exhausting job, and the acrid smell of oil clings to everything, but every bit of the black sludge we remove feels like a small victory.

Nearby, a makeshift wildlife rescue station has been set up. I take a moment to watch as a team gently cleans a seabird, its feathers matted with oil. They’re using a mix of warm water and dish soap, meticulously washing each feather, trying to save the poor creature—a repeat of what Ethan and I did outside the Tavern on the first day of the spill.

The bird flutters weakly, but gradually calms under their careful hands. A stack of cages sit beside them full of birds who have already been cleaned—volunteers will pick up the animals later and take them to the wildlife rehabilitation center to rest and recover.

By the time we take a break, I’m sweaty and tired, but there’s a sense of accomplishment and camaraderie that fills the air. Ethan seeks me out, handing me a water bottle, his fingers lingering as they brush mine.

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