Page 58 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2
Never tried to claim exclusive ownership of the woman we both love.
The surf crashes against the rocks twenty feet away, salt spray catching the afternoon light. Seagulls wheel overhead, their cries mixing with the constant rumble of waves.
It should be peaceful.
It should help me process this mess between us.
Instead, it gives me time to think, and I don’t like the direction of my thoughts.
An hour passes. Maybe two. The sun drops closer to the horizon, turning the ocean surface into molten gold. The teamspreads out across the beach—Blake and Rigel comparing rock formations, Walt carving something on a piece of driftwood, Carter examining a tide pool with the focused attention of a detective studying a crime scene.
Everyone’s getting restless. Hungry. The kind of low-level agitation that comes from forced downtime when your mind wants to be anywhere else.
I separate from the group, walking toward the far end of the beach where the cliff curves inward, creating a series of deep tide pools cut off from the main shoreline. The water here is crystal clear, undisturbed by the larger waves that pound the outer rocks.
My boots splash through ankle-deep water as I move from pool to pool. Sea anemones cling to the rocks like green and purple flowers, their tentacles swaying in the gentle current. Hermit crabs scuttle between patches of seaweed, carrying their borrowed homes on their backs. Small fish dart between underwater crevices, silver flashes against the dark stone.
Perfect miniature ecosystems, each one complete and balanced. Each one exists in isolation while connected to something larger.
Ally, Gabe, and I—three separate people who became something more when we came together. A system that worked because each part understood its role, its boundaries, and its purpose.
Until Malfor tore it apart.
Until fear made Gabe claim ownership of something that belonged to all of us. Until I let pride and anger drive a wedge between us when we need each other the most.
I crouch beside one of the larger pools, watching a sea star slowly make its way across the bottom. Methodical. Patient. Focused on the simple task of moving from one point to another despite the obstacles in its path.
The water reflects my face back at me. I’m tired, but underneath the exhaustion, there’s something else. The need for Gabe and me to be solid.
For the foundation to hold.
Without that, I’m not sure I can get throughthis.
I don’t want to end things with Gabe, but there’s still friction between us. A fight and some words don’t erase that. He apologized, admitted he overstepped, but there’s lingering uncertainty in my mind about whether we can trust each other with the thing that matters most.
Whether I can trust him with her.
A wave larger than the rest crashes against the outer rocks, sending spray shooting thirty feet into the air. The mist drifts over the tide pools, carrying the scent of the deep ocean and ancient salt, reminding me that some forces are greater than one individual.
Some things require working together to survive.
Footsteps crunch through the rocky shore behind me. Every muscle in my back tightens. I don’t need to look to know who it is. Gabe’s got a particular kind of presence—wired too tight, shoulders buzzing with tension, jaw clenched like he’s trying not to scream.
He’s been circling me all damn day like a dog that knows it pissed off the alpha and doesn’t know how to fix it.
“Got a minute?”
“Not really.” The words scrape across my nerves, brittle and forced, and I don’t bother turning around.
I look around the beach—at Blake skipping stones, at Rigel cataloging tide pool specimens, at the rest of the team scattered across the rocks.
“Well, what the fuck are you gonna do for the next couple of hours? Just sit there and keep ignoring me?”
His voice has an air of something. It’s strained and desperate. Like he knows he fucked this up and doesn’t know how to reel it in.
“I’m not ignoring you.” My voice remains flat, controlled. “I’m processing.”
“Processing, what? We worked things out at the gym and then at home.”
