Page 30 of Second Chance with the Half-Elf
“She’s not mine anymore.”
“Maybe she never was,” Rowan replies. “Doesn’t mean she can’t choose to be now.”
Drokhaz throws a net onto a table. “Love’s like bait. If it’s still fresh, something always bites.”
I grunt. “Thanks for the poetry, D.”
Rowan steps closer. “You left her the camera, didn’t you?”
I don’t answer.
She smiles. “Then you already made your move.”
I walk away before she can say anything else, footsteps echoing on the planks.
The wind picks up, and the rigging above hums like a warning.
And I wonder if this time, maybe the storm is ours to survive together.
—
The harbor’s quieter at dusk.
Most of the volunteers have filtered out, leaving half-finished booths and coils of extension cords snaking across the planks like lazy sea serpents.
I stand at the end of Dock C, wind sharp and briny against my face, watching the sun fold itself into the ocean. That same old ache rolls through me—like the tide, like her.
My fingers curl around the rail.
The sea’s always been my place to breathe. But right now, it presses in like a memory I can’t exhale.
I think of her—hair wild from salt wind, eyes sharp as broken glass, smile like the promise of summer.
And the way she looked curled up beside me last night, not afraid, just… guarded. But there.
Real. Present.
Not a ghost this time.
I drag a hand down my face.
“I never stopped loving her.”
The words come quiet. Cracked.
But saying them out loud—it hits like surf against the rocks.
Sudden. Inevitable.
True.
Fifteen years didn’t sand it down. Her leaving didn’t scrub it out.
All that space between us only gave the feeling more room to breathe.
And now she’s back.
Not for me.
