The rest of the day was quiet enough that they were down to finishing work and a first coat of paint by five.

“I’m going to knock off and make dinner for Gramps,” Sophie said with a stretch.

“Why don’t you invite him to join us at the pub?”

“Honestly? The pub is great but ask me to recite the menu. I can do it, word for word.”

“I hear ya,” he said as he wrapped a paint roller. “I eat there so often I don’t need a menu, either.”

“Come join us,” she offered impulsively. “I’m only making salmon patties with a salad, but Gramps will enjoy your company.”

It turned into a nice evening with a good meal and some big belly laughs.

“What time does the boy get in tomorrow?” Gramps asked at one point.

“Around two.”

“I’ll come to get him and inspect this new office of yours while I’m there,” Gramps told Logan, briefly turning melancholy as he added, “I wish Wilf could see all the work you boys are getting done. It would have made him really happy.”

Sophie caught the flex of anguish on Logan’s face. She felt it.

So did Gramps because he said, “He did the best he could, son. That’s all any of us can do.”

“Yeah,” Logan said under his breath and ran his hands up and down his thighs.

Sophie heard his regret, his inner question as to whether he had done his best.

“He was really proud of you guys, though,” Sophie said. “It’s not as if he thought you should have stayed here, rather than accomplish all the things you’ve done.”

“We could have come back now and again, though,” Logan said with quiet self-contempt. “I could have thanked him, just once, instead of being so angry…” He shook his head at himself, profile carved to a sharp line as he stared at his empty plate. “Such a waste of energy.”

And time. And opportunity. She felt that, too, as she thought about how much she had resented Logan’s presence here all these weeks, only lately coming around to forgiving him.

He swore under his breath, then shook off his mood. “Everyone done? I’ll wash dishes.”

While Logan did the dishes and Sophie started laundry, Gramps moved into his chair. He was snoring by the time she got back to the kitchen.

“It’s really nice out,” Sophie said as she came in and took up the tea towel. “The sky is pink and the tide is low. If Biyen was here, we would go down to the beach and dig for geoducks.”

“He eats them?”

“No. He likes to count their rings to see how old they are. Sixty-two is the record.”

“That kid,” Logan said with a chuckle. Then, as he rinsed the sink, asked, “Why would you tell me that? You know how competitive I am.”

“You want to go dig geoducks?”

“I was going to head back to the office and put a second coat on the walls, but yeah, let’s go down to the beach for a few minutes.” He dried his hands on the tea towel she still held.

When they came outside a minute later, the breeze was ribboned with the warmth off the dried grass and underlaid by cool, salty currents from the wet tideline.

They ambled down the short path to the beach, which was an eroded drop down to a handful of washed-up logs and a rocky intertidal zone. They hadn’t brought a bucket or shovel which was a small shame because there were tons of holes in the sand, indicating loads of clams and geoducks.

“Why is Biyen a vegetarian? Because his dad is?”

“Yeah, Nolan is very counterculture, in case you haven’t noticed. But Biyen is so nature-focused, avoiding meat is probably something he would have done regardless. It can be a hassle sometimes, but there are worse things a kid could do than make you cook him extra vegetables. That wasn’t a dig,” she added with a small grimace as she heard herself.

“I know.” He shook his head, obviously still ruminating about Wilf.

“Oh, don’t,” she urged, nudging his elbow with her own. “It would be nice if we all had a crystal ball to know what was coming, but we don’t.”

“Precisely why we should be our best self in the moment we’re in.”

“That’s a very lofty aspiration, but it’s not very realistic.” She moved to stand in front of him, drawing his pensive gaze off the distant shores onto her. “We’re all going to be dumb shits sometimes. And life isn’t always going to offer you a tidy choice between black and white. Sometimes you’re going to wind up with regret no matter what you do. Because if you said to me that you wish you hadn’t been my first, and that we didn’t have that memory between us, I’d be really hurt.”

“Ah, Soph.” He dragged her into a loose embrace. “I regret everything about how I treated you that summer except that. If I could…” His tortured voice trailed off.

“No. That’s the point. There was no winning for you that summer.”

She hugged around his waist and leaned into him, allowing the simple embrace to heal some of her old wounds because there had been no winning for her, either. Even if he had taken her away with him, at some point there would have been a reckoning. She had been too immature for a serious relationship then. Her behavior after his rejection proved it.

She couldn’t regret their lovemaking, though. Not when his body still made hers sing this way simply by standing against hers.

Closing her eyes, she savored the feel of him, familiar, yet new. They’d both changed, maturing physically as well as emotionally. His chest was broader and more muscled, his arms heavier on her shoulders, his presence that much more imposing and confident. His scent was deeply familiar, carrying those odd vestiges from the marina office and the purity of coastal rainforest and him. That boy who was now that man.

Her fingertips found the indent of his spine in his lower back. She tilted her face up so her chin was on his chest, caught in the murky choice between being smart and taking advantage of the opportunity before her.

“Those eyes of yours,” he said with a vexed pull of his brows. “I never needed you to look after me. Do you realize that?” He cupped her face while he seemed to take great care to memorize every aspect of her features.

“You always seemed lost,” she whispered. “You still do.”

He didn’t seem to know what to say to that. His gaze tangled with hers and her hands flattened to climb behind his shoulders. He dipped his chin and his mouth touched hers.

He hesitated.

She went up on her toes, increasing the pressure.

With a rumble in his chest, his hand slid to cup the base of her skull and he slowly dragged her into a deep, thorough kiss, one that lavished attention from one corner of her mouth to the other, plundering even as he worshiped.

Here was the razor’s edge between living for today and repenting tomorrow. He was leaving and she was anchored here forever, but in this second her skin was electric and her body swamped by sensations. Heat engulfed her. The velvet brush of his tongue against hers was an erotic tease. The lazy roam of his wide hand down her back unfurled her sensuality as easily as sliding open a zip.

The sting in her nipples had her pressing tighter to him. The hardness of his thighs brought her own up to crook against it.

Dizzy, she drew on his bottom lip, enjoying the groan she pulled out of him right before his hands hardened and he dragged his head up. He caught her ponytail in his fist. His heart was thumping hard enough for her to feel it against her breast, but maybe that was her own. Neither of them was drawing a steady breath.

“Soph.”

“You have an empty house,” she reminded him.