Page 29 of These Rough Waters

“Compliments of Ruthie’s cellar.”

“She knows right?”

I don’t wait for him to respond as I cross into the kitchen to grab the wine glasses. I was very aware of his presence, very aware of his energy and know the moment I feel him step up behind me as I attempt to reach for the wineglasses on the top shelf. His chest presses into my back as he reaches over me, leaning until I’m pinned to the counter with his body behind mine. The glasses clink and my breath gets stuck in my throat.

“She knows,” he confirms as he places the glasses in front of me, staying close at my back. The seconds drag into what feels like minutes before he finally steps away from me and I’m able to pour the wine.

“You okay there, little doe?” Torin leans, crossing his arms, “You seem a little flustered.”

I stare at him, “I don’t know how to take you.” I blurt out.

He grins, “Good. You should always remain alert, Maya.”

I stare at his back as he moves into the living room, glass of wine in hand regardless of the fact that he said he doesn’t drink it, and stares at the fire I had started earlier which was slowly dying. He starts to stoke that, the muscles in his back rippling as he shifts the logs and places a new one on the pile. Harper chooses that moment to come running full speed into the living room, practically launching herself like a pocket sized rocket at Torin who only just manages to maintain his balance. She clings around his waist while he stands, momentarily shocked staring down at the top of her little head.

“You came!” She squeals, “I knew we were best friends!”

“Uh,” He stammers, awkwardly patting my daughter on the head.

“See momma!” Harper looks over her shoulder, still clinging, “I told you we were friends.”

I sigh. I didn’t know what to do in these situations with Harper, part of me wants to give her what she wants and for whatever reason she’s taken a shine to Torin, but based on that look on his face, Torin doesn’t know what to do with kids.

“Harper, come help set the table?” I ask, drawing her away from him.

“Can Torin sit next to me?” She asks, skipping to the cutlery drawer to grab the utensils. “I’ll put him here and momma,” she sets the forks down in place, “You can sit here right at the top of the table and then me here, so I’m in the middle!”

Dinner was as awkward as I expected it to be, and Harper carried the conversation. Torin played her game through dinner, and I chugged the expensive wine, while Torin was still nursing the same glass, and I struggled to figure out what to say to the man who clearly disliked me. But now dinner was over, and Harper was in front of the fire, her pajamas on and ready for bed.

I expected Torin to make his escape while I took her to bed but when I come out five minutes later, he’s at the sink, clearing up the plates from dinner, his shoulders stiff and eyes out the window.

“A storm is coming,” his deep gravelly voice rivals the comforting sound of the crackling fire.

“How do you know?”

“These waters get rough during a storm,” He gestures with his chin to the window, “usually right before one hits you can tell by the ocean, you see how turbulent it is?”

I make my way to his side, my shoulder brushing his as I glance out the window and while it was dark, I could see the inky waters as the waves roughly smash against the shore, could hear it too.

“Have you always been a fisherman?” I ask quietly.

“No.”

“What did you used to do?”

I feel his eyes stroke my face, his gaze penetrating as he looks down to me, but I pretend I don’t notice and keep my eyes trained on the dark waters that surround this tiny island.

“Why did you come here?” He asks instead of answers.

“A fresh start,” I reply honestly.

“Running?”

Swallowing, I finally risk a glance at the man, finding his striking grey eyes trained on my face or rather the scar in my brow, “The reasons as to why I’m here are my business.”

His mouth ticks up into a smirk, “Secrets rarely remain in the dark in a town as small as this.”

“So, everyone knows your secrets then?”

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