Page 27 of Unmoored

He’s typing again... and there it is.

EDEN

Or are you just bringing me the booty?

I roll my eyes as he sends a pirate flag emoji, then several winking emojis, then a whole string of skulls. God help me, Eden’stryingto kill me. If not with innuendo, by an avalanche of emojis. It’s the digital equivalent of his habit of chattering, like he’s trying not to let anything too meaningful hang in the air for too long.

Fuck it, I’ll just send him a voice note.

“I’ll be back on Sunrise at, uh… six or seven? Maybe eight? No late than nine. This is why people don’t date skippers.”

I laugh sheepishly and then let go of the button to send the message.

Almost instantly, the little icon changes to “listened”, and then Eden puts a little laugh reaction on it. The moment his response arrives, I hit play—and there’s the sound of his laughter.

“That gives me more time to get the place shipshape. Get it? Ha. Anyway, I’ll let you come anytime, skipper.”

Shit. Someone’s coming.

I scramble to hit pause, but the voice note is already done, so I narrowly avoid playing it again.

Kieran is wandering down the ramp, hands in his pockets. “Will is on his way with the truck. So… what’s made you so happy? The marine forecast?” He’s grinning like the cat who got the cream.

“Hm,” I grunt, sending Eden a no-mouth emoji before shoving my phone back in my pocket to hop back down to the loading ramp. “Clear skies.”

Kieran rolls his eyes and huffs impatiently. “I want the gossip.”

“Mmm.” I squint, shielding my eyes as the orchard owner’s truck rumbles into view.

“You’ve been cheerful all day. And you were smiling like the noon sun,” Kieran persists, elbowing me. “I know something’s going on.”

I’m trying not to grin as Will turns the truck around, backing it slowly down the loading ramp. “Hm.”

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me…” Kieran fidgets with a lock of his bright-pink hair. “But I’d love to hear it. But you don’thaveto. But I’ll keep asking.”

“Mmm.” I wave for Will to stop, then pull the tailgate down.

Kieran sighs with disappointment, but I don’t feel bad. It’s actually kind of fun, having my own secret. But I know it’s too soon to talk about this, and thinking too much about things ties me in knots. That’s just the way I am.

My heart tells me to act, not talk—keep Eden a secret for a little bit longer. And the one thing I always tell people is to let their hearts lead the way. So I’ll take a spoonful of my own medicine… I just hope it keeps going down this sweetly.

ChapterEleven

EDEN

My living roomis almost date-ready.

I’ve scrubbed plywood floors and broken several nails while prying open windows to wash them. My folding card table and plastic lawn chairs look nicer with the drop cloth—now repurposed as a tablecloth. In the middle of the table is a cluster of the tea lights I packed at the last minute, in case the boat was dark at night. Next to them is a Mason jar flower posy, which I bribed a bunch of kids to pick and deliver.

I’m feeling proud of myself for everything I’ve done. So why do I feel a strange, creeping dread every time I look around? Like something that was once familiar has come back to haunt me?

Wait. That’s it.

I swallow hard, turning on my heel. There it is: the half-finished painting of Sunrise Island, still leaning against the living room wall. All those layers and layers of storm clouds watching me… it just feels like a bad omen.

A shiver runs down my spine. I gulp and shake my head. “Nope,” I tell the painting a little too loudly, like bravado will help me contain its strange power. I grab the frame, turning it around to face the wall. “We can do better.”

I flip through the canvases leaning against each other nearby until I land on exactly the right one. “And the lucky winner is…”

---