Page 29 of Second Chance with the Half-Elf
Below, Drokhaz is cursing in a half-dozen dialects while hauling a steel drum into place.
“Harbormaster broods worse than a tide shark in mating season,” he mutters.
“I heard that,” I call.
“You were meant to,” he says.
Rowan appears below me again. Hands on hips, ponytail swinging like a challenge. “You okay?”
“Busy,” I grunt.
“Not what I asked.”
“Don’t push, Rowan.”
“Don’t dodge, Aeron.”
I finish tying the last of the cord. Let my knuckles whiten around the knot.
She waits until I climb down before cornering me with that look—equal parts patience and blunt force.
“She didn’t leave town,” Rowan says. “Didn’t vanish. She walked into town this morning like she might stick around. That’s not nothing.”
“It’s not everything either.”
“You’re mad.”
I shake my head. “I’m... tired.”
Rowan softens. “You still love her.”
The words hang in the air between us, quiet and immovable.
Drokhaz grunts. “Three days till he admits it.”
Rowan crosses her arms. “Two. Unless he broods extra hard.”
I glare at both of them. “I’m right here.”
“And yet,” Rowan says, “miles away.”
Silence. Long and sharp like winter wind.
“She left without a word,” I finally say. “And I waited. For years. Not days. Not weeks.Years.”
“She was hurting.”
“So was I.”
Rowan tilts her head. “She’s not the only one who changed.”
I look out toward the water. The sea doesn’t answer.
“She’s different now,” I say. “Harder. Angrier.”
“So are you,” Rowan says gently. “But maybe that’s not the worst thing.”
I sigh. Run a hand through my hair. Salt and tension cling to my fingers.
