Page 3 of Second Chance with the Half-Elf
“Exactly why you should do it. Get out, get moving. You’re good with a lens.”
I cross my arms. “I didn’t come back to play town event paparazzi.”
Rowan gives me a look. The look. The one that says she knows me too well for my own damn good. “Evie... it’ll help. Trust me.”
“Rowan—”
“And Aeron’s helping run it.” She smirks, all innocent-like.
I scowl. “You’re evil.”
“You love me.” She grabs my arm and hauls me toward the door. “C’mon. Opening meeting’s at the boardwalk in an hour.”
“Fine.” I yank my camera bag off the hook. “But I’m charging overtime.”
“That’s the spirit.”
I follow her out into the salt-stained morning, wondering when exactly I lost the ability to say no to her. Probably around the same time I lost my heart to this damn town.
CHAPTER 2
AERON
She’s back.
Of all the damn things this week could’ve thrown at me—a half-sunken fishing boat, another stack of council paperwork, another rusted railing on the west dock—Evie Bright walking out of her mother’s house wasn’t on the list.
Fifteen years, and the first thing she does is throw up that wall of hers like no time’s passed at all. A glass of wine in her hand, that same stubborn tilt to her mouth.
And those eyes.
Still gold when she’s trying not to feel too much. Still sharp enough to cut through whatever calm I’ve built since she left.
I grip the edge of the harbor desk a little harder than necessary. The ledger creaks beneath my fingers. Rowan’s note sits nearby—Salt & Sea prep, final checks with Drokhaz today, see you there!—as if I’m not already drowning in this damn festival.
I roll my shoulders back, straighten the stack of shipping manifests, and shove the memory of her voice back where it belongs. Somewhere deep. Somewhere unreachable.
For fifteen years, I’ve made a home in that distance. One look at her and it cracks like thin ice.
“Morning, boss.”
I glance up. Caleb Marrow—one of the younger dockhands—leans in the doorway, windblown and grinning. Human kid, sharp and fast.
“Morning,” I say, voice low. “West dock status?”
“Cleared the driftwood. Ropes’re holding fine.” He hesitates, then adds, “Heard Evie Bright’s back.”
Of course he did. The town’s smaller than a fishing net.
“She is,” I say evenly.
He waits a beat for more. I give him nothing.
“Uh... right.” Caleb scratches the back of his neck. “See you at the boardwalk then.”
I nod once, and he vanishes like smoke.
With a sigh, I close the ledger and lock it away. The drawer beneath it holds something older—a battered metal tin. I tell myself not to open it. My hand moves anyway.
