Michael (Wild Men #8)

Chapter 33

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Ayden’s in town, and I ask him to meet up for a beer. Nobody but him will understand just how big of a thing this is that I’m about to do.

“I’m thinking of cutting back,” I admit to him.

I give him credit for trying his damnedest to hide his shock.

He can’t pull it off, but he fucking tries. His ocean-blue eyes flash with unfiltered emotion, though, and I know how much this affects him. He and my mom have been wanting me to quit the boat for years. But, they never said anything. Because they love me, and they thought I loved it.

“How come?” he asks me in a neutral tone.

“Because.”

I don’t say anything else, but my little brother knows me well enough. He also knows what it’s like to care about someone more than yourself.

“Emery.” He smiles. “You’re serious about her, then.”

“I love her. God help her because I don’t deserve her, but I want her all the same.”

“You do deserve her, Michael. Fuck, I never thought I’d see the day you cared for a woman more than the siren of the sea.”

“Me neither. You and Bella were always so out of reach to what I’d experienced. I couldn’t imagine having that kind of bond with someone. And I’ve known Emery for all of a month, not my whole life like you and your wife—”

“Michael.” Ayden’s voice is gruff. “Shut up.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Love and connection aren’t about length of time; they’re about how you feel.”

“I’d die for her,” I tell him honestly. “But I don’t want to die on her.”

Leaving my career is more than that, though. I could be walking down the street and something could happen, or I could fish off a boat for fifty years and die at ninety. Life’s unpredictable, and I well know we can’t control everything.

“I guess, underneath it all, I’m just ready for something new,” I say. “I’m tired of following in Dad’s footsteps. I want to start my own legacy.”

I used to only ever feel at home when I was on the water. When I reached land, the pain crept in. Pain that my dad’s gone. Pain that I had to become the man of the house when I was still a kid, and I don’t think I did a great job of it because I was so young.

Twelve is too young to have to fill a man’s shoes, but I tried.

And maybe Emery was right, and a piece of me is still that twelve-year-old kid waiting for his father to come in from the sea.

I don’t want to stay stuck anymore.

“What will you do instead of fish?”

“I’m still figuring that part out. Emery and I have some ideas.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect thing.” He flashes what I call the Ayden grin—filled with hope and joy and everything I wish I hadn’t lost as a kid. My brother managed to hold onto those things, and I’ve always envied him that. But these days, I feel like maybe I can be happy too, in my own way and in my own time.

Emery

Michael’s been so excited to show me around his hometown.

When we first landed in Lucky Bay, I was nervous I wouldn’t love it like he does.

Of course, I instantly adored the cottage I was so graciously gifted. But the moment we walked into the square on Main Street, I was smitten. I adore the ocean and the dock and Michael’s mom…all of it is a dream come true for me. It feels like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting, and I can’t wait for my mom—and hopefully my dad and aunt—to come visit. I think we all deserve to let the past go and move forward.

When Michael took me out on his boat this afternoon, I understood firsthand why he’s had a hard time giving up fishing for a living. It was so peaceful on the water. So beautiful.

And I don’t want him to give up what he loves.

So when he and I sit on the docks late in the evening, I tell him just that.

He shoots me a half-grin. “I appreciate your concern. But I feel good about my decision.”

I give him a second look. “What decision?”

“The one to switch careers. I’m going to retire my boat.”

“Michael, I don’t want you to do that because you think everyone in your life wants you to do it,” I say.

“I’m doing this first and foremost for myself,” he says firmly. “I haven’t been happy for a long time. I didn’t want to admit that until I met you.”

He sweeps his arm in an arc around the pier as he tells me how he and Ayden stood here as little boys and waited for news of their father’s boat.

Tears fill my eyes as he recounts the story.

“I didn’t think I could ever let go of that moment where you’re just holding your breath,” he says. “I was certain I’d never be able to exhale. And while, of course, I’ll always miss my dad, I found someone I love so much that she’s helped me heal.” He turns to face me. “Being with you makes me happy, Emery. We could be riding a Ferris wheel, going horseback riding, or sitting by the ocean, and I’m happy.”

I cup his cheek in my hand. “Me too.”

He reaches into the chest pocket of his flannel shirt and pulls something out.

And then, he shifts until he’s before me on one knee.

Holy shit.

“Will you marry me, Emery Walker?” He opens his palm and an old-fashioned engagement ring is staring up at me.

Inside, I’m screaming with joy, but it’s like my mouth and brain have stopped working. I stare in silence at the gorgeous pink tourmaline and opal ring. Then, I raise my gaze to meet Michael’s vulnerable one.

“You want to get married?” I ask him shakily.

“Yes.”

I break into a wide smile. “Me too. Yes, I’ll marry you. And I don’t think I’ve ever been so surprised in my life. Michael Wild, you really know how to do a romantic moment.”

He kisses me and slides the ring on my finger. “Only with you, Emery.”