Page 21 of Christmas Harbor Secrets
“Maybe,” he said. Then, softer, “When it matters.”
She studied him in the dim light, the burn on his hand, the unflinching way he stood even when accused. Whatever ghosts walked beside this man, they weren’t gone. But they hadn’t taken all his goodness with them either.
As Echo leaned into Rone’s leg and the moon caught the gleam of his wet fur, Isobel realized her pulse was finally slowing. She didn’t know what kind of trouble had foundits way to the docks—or what this man was hiding—but for the first time since the fire, she felt strangely safe.
And that terrified her more than the smoke ever had.
“Good boy,” Rone said, down on the planks, both hands reaching without thinking. One slid around the dog’s wet ruff, the other braced his shoulder. Echo leaned into all of it, shaking once, hard. A spray of dark water arched and patterned their faces, and Isobel laughed again, this time without the edge. She knelt and palmed the dog’s chest, feeling the heavy pound of his heart. Echo bumped her chin with his nose as if to say,See? Do you not trust me by now?
“You followed him?” she asked, checking the dog’s legs, the pads of his feet, the meat of his shoulders. No cuts, only scrapes. A smear of soot along one flank made him look rakish. Echo sneezed as if in agreement.
Rone looked down the row where smoke still smeared the air, smoothed Echo’s ears, and didn’t hide the shake that ran through his fingers after.
Echo stood and leaned into Rone’s knees, then did the same to Isobel, distributing his weight like he was reinforcing both of them. It worked. Some rib-deep tightness let go.
“Home.” Rone pointed to her boat, not his.
They walked back slowly. People had started to drift inside, conversations dissolving into the clink of cups in sinks, the murmur of doors shutting. The dockmaster made notes, like handwriting could keep the night from happening again. Somewhere, a radio crackled, someone reporting “contained.”
By the time they reachedFamily First, the air inside was almost cool. It was absurdly comforting, that low hum—a machine doing what it promised. Echo leapt into the cockpit and executed a full-body shake that would have mortified him if he were human. He looked pleased with the arc of droplets he flung across Rone’s shirt. Rone didn’tcomplain.
He grabbed the handle and winced.
“Sit,” she said softly, opening the door to the salon.
“Isobel—”
“Please.” She didn’t lace it with force this time. Only care.
He obeyed like the word itself had eased something shut down in him. He sank onto the settee, the ache in his shoulders visible now that urgency had let go. Echo hopped up beside him without permission and pressed against his thigh, panting, tongue lolling. Rone’s left hand found the dog’s collar and held.
Isobel got a bowl and filled it with cool water.
She knelt in front of Rone. Closer than before. The room felt smaller with Echo taking up the middle and the night crowding the windows. Close wasn’t unwelcome. It felt like the right size for hearing truth.
“Let me see,” she said.
He offered his hand. Not sheepish, not dramatizing. Simply giving her the thing she’d asked for. The bandage had held through all the running and the dock crawl. The edges were damp now. She peeled the tape back carefully.
The crescent was angrier. Heat radiated from it, a little pulse of complaint. The skin hadn’t blistered deep, thank God. “Still within what we can handle,” she murmured.
He exhaled, as if he’d been prepared to argue and had decided not to. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“You did enough fooling tonight,” she said, mouth quirked. “You should’ve told me Echo was Shade’s.”
“And I told you, Echo decides who he wants to be with.”
Not a lie technically. “An omission of truth is a gateway to a lie. I want the truth, no matter what. Understand?”
He gave a curt nod.
“That guy tonight… What do you think my father has that I don’t know about? If I give it to him, then he’ll leave me alone.”
He flinched—not away, but toward,subtle and telling. “You give him what he wants and you’re dead. Best to disappear. Warned Shade to do that a few days before his drowning.”
“He said,” she continued, because once she’d begun it felt wrong to stop, “if I ever want to see my father again, I’ll give it back.”
Rone’s breath went rough for a single beat. He covered it with a small shift of his shoulders, glanced down at Echo as if the dog had opinions. Echo thumped his tail once, then stared at nothing, protecting them both by keeping his eyes on the middle distance.
