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I bury my face in her throat, kissing her soft skin. “I might just be the luckiest man in the universe,” I murmur.

“And don’t you forget it,” she replies, and then we lose ourselves to each other once again.

The scent of coffee and eggs fills the kitchen. Charlie sits across from me, her hair pulled into a messy bun, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she eats. She looks like a dream—peaceful and vibrant, completely unaware of the way she lights up the room just by being in it.

“You know,” she says, pushing her empty plate aside, “I overheard someone in Saturday yoga talking about EMDR therapy for PTSD. It sounded like it really helped them. Maybe you could ask your therapist about it?”

Her voice is casual, her tone light, but I can feel the weight of her concern.

I nod, taking a sip of coffee to mask my discomfort. “I’ll get his thoughts on it,” I say, aiming for nonchalant.

Charlie’s eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn’t press. She just nods, her gaze lingering on me a moment longer before she picks up her mug.

The silence between us feels heavy, and I hate it. I hate that my issues are spilling over into her world, that she’s had to see the cracks I’ve worked so hard to hide.

“How do you like teaching us islanders?” I ask, desperate to steer the conversation away from me. “Probably a different vibe than you’re used to back in Wildrose.”

Charlie’s smile returns, softening the tension in the room. “I love it. Though, honestly, people are people wherever you live. I think my boss thought it might be a problem, though. She may have mentioned the position could just be temporary at least ten times in the half-hour interview.” She laughs, and I’m not sure why.

“Temporary, huh?” I lean back in my chair, my fingers tightening around my mug. The word sticks in my throat like a burr.

Charlie cocks her head, studying me. “I’m kidding. I mean, she did say that, but only because I didn’t know how long I’d be here. It didn’t feel right committing to a full-time position.”

“Smart,” I say, forcing a smile. “Responsible. How long did you commit to?”

“We agreed to take it on a month-by-month basis.”

I nod, staring into my coffee.

“I don’t have any plans to leave,” she adds quickly, her voice softening. “I mean, my brother might eventually get tired of me being the fourth wheel, but there’s nothing for me in Wildrose. No job. No house.” Her gaze meets mine, steady and sincere. “No you.”

Her words should reassure me, but they don’t. Not entirely.

I smile and press a kiss into her hand, my promise from last night ringing through my mind.

I’m not going anywhere.

And that’s true. I’m not.

But I’m suddenly not sure she can say the same.

I stand, grabbing our mugs. “Need a refill?” I ask, keeping my tone light.

“Yeah. Thanks.” She slides her mug my way, her brow furrowing slightly. “You okay?”

“Never been better,” I lie, plastering on a smile as I kiss her forehead.

But as I turn to the coffee pot, a question lingers in my mind, heavy and unspoken…

What if this is temporary, too?

FORTY-ONE

Charlie

The drive home stretches before me, the miles passing in a haze as my thoughts swirl like a storm cloud, dark and unrelenting. The joy of being with Nick, of watching him thaw and transform back into the man I remember, feels tinged with shadows. This morning’s nightmare creeps into my mind, unbidden and jarring. I hate myself for letting it linger. Shouldn’t I be focused on the progress? On the way his laughter comes more easily, or how his eyes have softened in a way I thought they never could again?

I should be thinking about the picture frames on the table, finally turned upright, or the perfect date on the pier. I should be basking in the memory of his hands, his touch, his words. But instead, I’m stuck on the image of him, sweat-soaked and trembling, gasping like a man on the edge of a cliff. And worse, I can’t stop wondering if I’m just a Band-Aid over something far deeper.

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