Page 16 of Our Bay Will Come

"Beer at The Anchor?" Cole suggests as he does most Fridays.

"I can't," Rowan says. Cilla's cooking dinner. You're welcome to join us, though."

Cole shakes his head. "No thanks. I've seen enough googly eyes today." He turns to me. "Fox? Beer? Or are you too busy texting your girlfriend?"

"She's not my—" I start, then stop myself. What is she, exactly? "Rain check. I've got plans."

"Plans?" Cole raises an eyebrow. "Like what?"

I think of driving to Seattle, the idea forming even as I speak. I imagine surprising Prue and seeing if this thing between us can be more than texts and memories.

"Just plans," I say, loading my toolbox into the back of my truck. "See you Monday."

As I drive home, my mind races with possibilities. It's crazy to drive three hours on a whim. I don't even know if Prue will want to see me. But the thought of waiting until her next visit to Cedar Bay feels impossible suddenly.

When I arrive, my cabin is quiet, just the sound of the waves against the shore below. I shower quickly, changing into cleanjeans and a dark blue button-down that Sarah once said brought out my eyes.

Sarah. I haven't thought about her in months, but now, standing in front of my mirror, I wonder what she'd think of Prue. They're nothing alike—Sarah's calculated moves and practiced smiles, Prue's unfiltered honesty and genuine laugh.

I grab my phone, hesitating only briefly before calling instead of texting.

Prue answers on the third ring. "Fox?"

Just the sound of her voice sends a current through me. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just—" I take a breath. "What would you say if I told you I was thinking about driving to Seattle tonight?"

The silence stretches between us long enough that I start to regret asking.

"I'd say that's a three-hour drive," she finally replies. "And it's already past six."

"I know."

"And you'd get here late."

"I know that too."

Another pause. "Why would you do that?"

Because I can't stop thinking about you. Because every text makes me want to see your face. Because one night wasn't nearly enough.

"Because I want to see you," I say simply. "But if it's too much, or too soon?—"

"No," she interrupts. "I mean, yes. I mean—" She takes a breath. "I want to see you too."

Relief floods through me. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she confirms. "But Fox, I don't want you driving that late. It's not safe."

Her concern warms something in my chest. "I've driven worse roads in worse conditions."

"Still," she insists. "What about tomorrow? You could come up in the morning, stay the night, drive back Sunday?"

The idea of spending a whole weekend with Prue sends my pulse racing. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose."

She laughs, the sound like music through the phone. "You're inviting yourself to my city. Might as well do it properly."

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