Wanting a Family Man (Raven’s Cove #3)

Chapter Nineteen

T hey knew. Everyone seemed to know that she and Trystan had slept together and, worse, they all seemed to be treating her with kid gloves over it.

At first, Cloe enjoyed the bliss of ignorance. She was still visiting with Emma and Glenda when the men showed up and the usual chaos ensued. Reid made a point of asking her about her injury, but Cloe dismissed that as his being the top dog. He was making sure the company had covered her medical expenses and they wouldn’t be sued.

Logan drove her back to Fabiana’s a short while later and was very unconcerned about what time she should show up for work tomorrow.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said with a shrug. “Call if you need me to come get you.” He wrote his number on a scrap of paper, since she didn’t have a phone and would have to use Fabiana’s landline.

Once he left with Fabiana, Cloe decompressed, glad to finally have some time alone. She wound up falling asleep on the couch, snapping awake when the phone rang.

“Did I wake you? I didn’t even think,” Trystan said with regret. “Glenda left a casserole at the house. Em wants to know if you want to join us? I can come get you.”

“Is it okay if I don’t? I want to have a bath and an early night.”

A pause, then, “Sure. I’ll let her know. Call if you change your mind. Or if you need anything.”

“I will,” she lied.

“And look. About earlier—”

“It’s fine. We’re fine.” More lies, but she managed to sound sincere as she said, “Safe travels tomorrow. See you Sunday.”

There was another moment of dead air that felt excruciating, then, “Thanks. See you Sunday.”

She did have a bath, then spent some time online with Fabiana’s laptop, which was a cast-off from her son who was a gamer, so it was actually pretty slick. Cloe made herself a fake Facebook account using her initials C.M.V. and entered a birthday that was a mix of Storm’s and her own. She used a random flower as a profile pic.

Then she started searching her father’s name, Jayden Henry, focusing on the ones in Florida who were potentially the right age. One had almost no privacy blocks in place and a quick glance through his photos had her deciding he wasn’t likely to be her father.

She sent a DM to a handful of others, letting them know she was trying to find the Jayden Henry who had lived in California twenty-four years ago. Given how often she deleted random messages from people she didn’t know, she wasn’t surprised when she rose the next morning to find not a single one had responded.

Being a bit of a coward, she waited until she was confident Trystan had left on the tour before she drove the golf cart down to the shipyard, where the Missionary II was dry-docked.

Apparently, the vessel had been built as a hospital ship, but more recently had been used for kayaking tours. It had caught fire earlier this summer, and rather than pay the cost of a new engine, the owners had sold it as salvage to Raven’s Cove. Logan was refitting it as floating accommodation.

He wasn’t there, though. She hobbled into the nearest door of the marina. Steps went upward, but beyond them, a swing door led into a room where a high-pitched industrial noise sounded. Cloe peered through the window to see Sophie was wearing a face shield and gloves while turning a rod of metal on a lathe.

Cloe waited until the machine was off to knock and peek in.

“Reporting for duty.”

“Oh, hey.” Sophie removed the mask. “Let me call Logan.” She picked up the nearest phone, tapped, and said, “Cloe’s here.” She hung up. “He’ll be right down. Do you want to borrow a pair of my coveralls?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Sophie took her through another door into a locker room that doubled as storage. A rack of shelves held cans of paint with dribbles down their sides and other odds and ends. There was a big laundry bin and a short bench along one wall with a variety of well-worn footwear beneath. A second door led to a powder room with a toilet, sink, and shower stall.

Sophie shook out a pair of neatly bundled coveralls, asking, “So how are you doing?”

“Getting blisters from the crutches.” Thanks to her walk all the way down to the store yesterday. Trystan was right. She should have asked him to give her a lift. Her arms were aching from all the activity. She didn’t know how she would manage a paintbrush, but she would try because she needed the money.

As she showed her palm and gave Sophie a wry look, she caught an expression on Sophie’s face that was somewhere between curious and consoling.

That’s when she knew. Sophie wasn’t just wondering what had happened between her and Trystan. She was wondering why it had ended.

“Well, this is horrible,” Cloe said, feeling all the boulders in the avalanche of pity land on her.

“What? Oh.” Sophie winced. “If it matters, Trystan didn’t say a word. Logan figured it out. He and Reid asked Trys about it, then Reid told Emma and she told me. I asked Trystan why I had to hear it through the grapevine, and he told me to mind my own effing business so I’m trying to do that.” She cleared her throat. “But I’m also here if you want to talk.”

“Not really. Thanks, though.” Cloe moved to the bench and began working the coveralls onto her legs.

“Okay.” Sophie turned and stalled, as though she wasn’t sure if she should leave it there or say more. “But here’s the thing. Trys needs his me-time. When he’s with someone—and I don’t mean romantically, I mean physically hanging out with a person—he’s all in. Whatever you need, whatever emotional baggage you’re carrying, he’s picking it up and carrying it for you. That’s why he has to run off into the woods and look after himself for a while. He cares hard . And he knows it. So he’s cautious about how much he lets himself care.”

“’Kay.” Cloe stood on her good foot and worked her arms into the sleeves. “That doesn’t really make me feel better that he doesn’t want to care for me, but thanks for enlightening me, I guess.”

“But this is what I’m saying. He sometimes needs to retreat and figure stuff out. Sometimes I tell him I’m ignoring him on purpose, out of love, so he knows I don’t need anything from him and he can frigging relax.”

“That’s nice that you feel so secure in your relationship with him, Sophie. I’m happy for you. But I had a man yank my chain really hard for a couple of years, then I asked this one to do one thing for me, which was not make me the talk of the town. Yet here I am. So I’m ignoring him with anger and resentment, if that’s okay with you.”

When Cloe glanced up from buttoning the coveralls, she saw Sophie’s cheeks were hollow.

“Yeah, you came to the wrong place for that,” Sophie said. “There’s fuck all to do here except drink and talk about other people. But let’s do that.” She rummaged in the pocket of her coveralls and brought out her phone, tapping to place a call. “Hey. Tell Reid to watch the baby tonight. We’re taking a bottle of wine over to Cloe. Because men suck. Yeah, I forgot that for a minute, too—” A pause, then, “I know. I’m super sorry to hear he’s like all the rest. It’s a huge bummer—No, you go do that. Later, gator.” She ended the call. “Em’s in.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Cloe was touched. She really was, but, “I was just letting off steam. I’m not going to trash him behind his back, especially to you. He’s obviously one of your best friends.”

“Oh, Cloe, you sweet summer child. Trystan and Emma have whole text chains devoted to reporting on me and Logan like we’re the freaking Kardashians or something. Which I would be madder about, but Trys and I did the same thing when Emma and Reid were getting together so…” She hitched a shoulder. “Did you hear the part where we have to make our own entertainment here?”

“I don’t even know why I like you people,” Cloe said with a pained scowl.

Sophie threw a laugh to the ceiling. “Because you’re one of us. Obviously. Come on. Logan’s probably wondering what I’ve done with you.”

*

The days went both quickly and slowly. Painting was tiring, but kind of relaxing. It also gave her too much time to think. To dwell. Cloe would start to spiral into a dark gloom, then some little thing would pull her out of herself, like Emma turning up with coffee because it was a nice day for a walk, or Biyen asking if she would drive him home in the golf cart.

She worked Saturday, out of boredom. Mentally, she was on the Storm Ridge , visiting a hot spring or watching whales. She really missed doing the tours.

“Knock, knock,” Biyen shouted. “Permission to come aboard?”

With a chuckle, Cloe called, “Just a sec.”

She wrapped her brush and roller, then hobbled her way up onto the deck before she removed her mask.

“There are too many fumes for you to come inside, but sure. Come on up.”

Biyen came up the ladder and opened the grocery bag he held.

“Mom needed margarine so she gave me money for the store and said I could get a Popsicle. Do you want half? It’s green.”

“I love green. That’s nice of you to share.”

He wore a frown of concentration while he split it against the edge of the hatch, then proudly handed her one.

“Mom said you should come for dinner if you want to. It’s salmon patties and salad. Then Logan said I should tell you don’t work too late ’cause Uncle Reid will chew his butt if he has to pay you overtime.”

She took the Popsicle out of her mouth. “This isn’t my dinner?”

“Heh. It’s green. Must be salad.”

“Right?” They shared a grin. “Salmon patties sound great, thanks. I’ll finish up and come over after I shower.”

Then, because she could read between the lines when it came to a newly engaged couple sending a nine-year-old on an errand on a Saturday afternoon, she asked Biyen what he’d been doing with his day. They chatted amiably for almost an hour before he decided he’d better get home.

She cleaned up, then went back to Fabiana’s, where she did shower. While she was grabbing her moisturizer off the desk, she absently checked her messages on the laptop, expecting another bunch of nothing.

She plopped her ass onto the chair when she saw one unread response that began, Cloe?

*

It was growing dark when Sophie came through the house and onto the porch.

“Hey. Are you okay? I tried to call a couple of times. The line was busy.”

“Oh, shoot.” Cloe dragged herself back to Raven’s Cove and Silas in her lap. “I meant to call as soon as I hung up, but I had to feed the cats. Then I poured a glass of wine and… Do you want one? It’s in the fridge.”

“Sure,” Sophie said with a cautious note, but came out a moment later with her own glass and sat down. “Is everything okay? You were on the phone for at least an hour. It wasn’t Fabiana, was it?”

“No. My dad.” She still couldn’t fully process that.

“Oh? You haven’t mentioned him before. I wasn’t sure he was in your life.”

“He never was, but he’s been trying to find me for over a year. Ever since he bumped into an old friend who told him he’d seen Mom ten years ago and that her kid looked just like him. He knew my name, but that’s all he had. I had closed all my social media accounts by then.”

The way he had spoken to her had been endearing, especially in his lilting Jamaican accent. There’d been familiarity in his tone, as though he had known her all her life. It had made her realize how real she was to him. How anxious he’d been to find her. It was surreal.

“That’s a lot for me to process,” Sophie said. “You seem like you’re in shock. Have you eaten? Can I make you something?”

“No, I’m not hungry.” She was in shock, though. She was clinging to this poor cat as though he was a life ring. He was purring, so he didn’t seem to mind the way she was kneading him like bread dough. “He was married when he met Mom, but they were separated. That’s why he took a job in California. Then his daughter got sick so he went back to Miami and reconciled with his wife. I guess he called Mom to tell her that, but she didn’t tell him she was pregnant.”

“So you have another sister?”

“And a brother. He’s two years younger than me. Isn’t that weird? They all know about me. His daughter has been helping him try to find me. He has a casita by their pool that I could stay in if I want to come visit.”

“I have to ask this, Cloe.” Sophie reached across and clasped her wrist. “Are you sure this isn’t some weird catfish thing?”

“No. He knew Tiffany. And things about her. Not that she had died, though. He cried when I told him—” She drew in a breath that burned, still hearing his pained breaths and quiet anguish. She pushed the back of her wrist against her lips to keep them from quivering.

You’re grieving. You’re my daughter. Let me take care of you.

And the way he’d said that word. Dawta . His deep voice had reached straight into her heart and cradled it, promising to keep it safe and sound.

“Oh, sweetie.” Sophie moved to stand behind her, wrapping her arms across her shoulders as she hugged her.

“I don’t know what to do,” Cloe admitted with a pang.

“You don’t have to do anything. Let it sit and rest.” Sophie squeezed her shoulders and straightened. “Like a turkey coming out of the oven.”

“Is that what I am?” She sputtered out a helpless chuckle. “You know I envy you and your boring life here where nothing happens, right?”

“The grass is always greener on the other side of the strait.” She retook her chair and propped her chin on her hand. “For instance, as an only child, I am insanely jealous of your new siblings. Tell me everything .”

*

What was that old quote about the best of times and worst of times?

Trystan was living it.

Johnny’s cousin and his new wife came onto the Storm Ridge while they were docked in Bella Coola. They had grown up here and knew the waters and islands as well as anyone. They had just returned from living in Prince Rupert for several years—where they’d both worked as deck hands on fishing boats.

They needed work, a place to live, and the husband already had all the certifications he needed to step in as first mate. They were outgoing and instantly made friends with the guests.

Trystan called Reid and he said, “If you think they’re the right fit, make it happen.”

He did.

The couple promised to be in Bella Bella by Tuesday night so they could take over with Johnny on Wednesday morning.

“Now you can stay home and look after your girl,” Johnny teased Trystan later that night. Johnny was operating as captain this tour, so he was handing off the evening shift to Trystan, who was acting as first mate.

“Cloe’s not mine.” And she didn’t want him looking after her. That knowledge was sitting in his belly like gravel. “We’re just friends. I have to get back to filming.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my show’s been on hiatus. You knew that, didn’t you?”

“No, I mean… You couldn’t keep your eyes off her ass, which I admit is fine as hell.” He put up a hand. “I only noticed that by accident. Friends don’t ogle friends.” He winked. “But she was always bringing you coffee so I figured you two were a thing. I ship that, as the kids say,” he added with a twist of irony at the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks, but I need to get my ship together before I ship with anyone.”

“Do what you think is best, man, but let me tell you, me and Nina were a mess when we got together. I had student loans up to here.” He touched his hairline. “Her grandma was in and out of hospital. We accidentally got pregnant so I moved her into the basement suite I was renting. It immediately flooded and ruined all her shit because it was still in boxes on the floor. In the middle of that, the guy she was working for won the lottery and folded up his business. Did he share the wealth? Hell, no. Not even a two-week severance check. He texted her not to come in and got on a plane. She’s never heard from him since. We still laugh about that. Like, anytime something shitty happens, we’re like, ‘Don’t come in. Won the lotto. Bye.’”

Trystan couldn’t help chuckling because what else could you do?

“Now we’ve got the babies and it’s a different chaos, especially with this job taking me away all week, but we never worry about whether we’ll get through it because we’ve already been through so much together. You never know what life will throw at you, Trys. Cloe’s nice and funny and seems to roll with whatever comes at her. Maybe don’t wait for the perfect conditions because they might not happen.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Trystan said sincerely. At the very least, he and Cloe had to make up. Knowing she was angry with him was eating him alive.

The pace of the summer was noticeably slowing when he tied up in Raven’s Cove. The wharf wasn’t as full and even though Randy, the apprentice, was walking by with a pipe wrench, he didn’t look to be in any big hurry, despite the light rain that was falling.

Trystan got through his top-level chores and was walking the bags of dirty linens to the lodge when he spied the golf cart parked next to the dry-docked Missionary II .

Cloe wasn’t working on a Sunday, was she?

He dropped the laundry, then veered toward the boatyard, reminding himself not to scold as he climbed the ladder.

“Cloe? It’s me,” he called as he stepped onto the deck.

“I’m down here,” she called from a lower deck, voice muffled. “I’ll be up in a sec.”

He found her wearing eye protection and a respirator mask, rolling primer on a bunk. The rest of the cabin was already taped and wearing a coat of white.

“I’m almost done this cabin. Don’t kill your brain cells with this stuff,” she said in her muffled voice.

The paint was marine grade so it was heady, but the porthole was open and she had a big fan in the passageway keeping the air moving.

He picked up the brush and did the corner work, then tapped the can closed while she wrapped the brush and roller.

A few minutes later, he waved for her to go ahead of him up the stairs. She neatly levered one crutch up to the top of the stairwell, touching the toe of her injured foot to the step as she used the other crutch and the handrail to hop her way to the top.

“Your ankle is getting better?”

“Swelling’s down. It doesn’t really hurt unless I try to use it.”

Since it was raining, they hung back in the galley. It was stripped of its appliances and hatch doors, but wearing a shiny coat of navy blue with crisp white trim. The paint was dry up here and all the windows were open so the smell was only a lingering tang.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she set aside her mask and released the buttons down the front of her coveralls.

“What are you doing here? It’s Sunday.”

“I’m only making straight time.”

“I don’t care what Logan’s paying you. But why is he making you work on a weekend for straight time?”

“I want the hours. You yelled at me the last time I said this, but”—she pulled her arms free of her coverall sleeves, then tied them around her waist, the way Sophie often did—“I’m going to Florida. To see my dad.”

“See?” he repeated with astonishment. “You found him?” He sank onto the settee, which was only partially rebuilt so lacked upholstery or any sort of cushion. The table was gone, and it was just a bench of rough plywood under his ass. “That’s news.”

“I know. But aside from the fact that I really, really want to meet him, it’s a chance to get on my feet. Foot,” she corrected wryly. “I’ve looked up job prospects and there are enough options for a start. He invited me to stay in his casita, but I’m sure I could find a sublet with a roommate soon as I have a job. I hate the idea of leaving Storm, but I know she’s safe and loved. Reid and Emma said I’m welcome to visit anytime. They want to move to Vancouver after the end of the season so it won’t be as hard to get to them once they’re there.”

Trystan nodded, trying to fit these new pieces into the puzzle he’d already been struggling to assemble in his mind. “When?”

“Tomorrow. There was room on the flight to Victoria.”

Tomorrow .

“From there, I’ll take the ferry to Washington and fly out of Seattle. Reid booked the flights. I was going to catch the ferry from here and take the bus to Victoria, but he said he has points.”

That was bullshit, but Trystan figured Reid was just trying to do his little sister’s aunt a solid.

“And you’re definitely going because…” He leaned his elbows on his thighs, surprised how winded he was. “This is for you and your dad, right? It’s not about me?”

Her expression softened and her mouth twisted wryly.

“There’s no point in running away from you if you’re not going to be here, is there? Sophie told me Johnny is taking over the Storm Ridge so you can get back to work.”

“I would have told you that myself.” That’s one of the reasons he was here. “We just finalized it the other day.” He didn’t feel any relief in learning her plan to leave had nothing to do with him, though. It cut pretty deeply, to be honest. Especially that she was leaving so abruptly.

“I need to meet my dad and his family. My family, I guess.” Emotions flexed across her expression. “That’s all me and nothing to do with you. I don’t hate you. I only hate that things are awkward between us. I didn’t want them to be.”

“Nothing’s awkward.” He rose and opened his arms. “Come here.”

“I might have paint—” She looked down.

“I don’t care.” He realized she couldn’t walk to him so he went to her. “Please? I need to know we’re okay.”

“We are.” She let herself tip forward and fit herself against him in the way that felt familiar and right. Her head rested on his shoulder. He ran his hands over her narrow back then closed his arms tightly around her, holding her up while he gently crushed her, trying to stem the sensation of a deadly bleed in his chest.

He loved her. He closed his eyes against that knowledge, but it didn’t change the fact that it was true. He loved her and he couldn’t tell her because he needed to let her go. She needed to meet her family.

“I don’t regret anything about this. About you.” She tipped her head back to look up at him. Her arms were around his waist, her soft breasts mashed to his chest, and the knot of her sleeves against his fly. “I’m only sorry that our timing was wrong. Maybe…” She rolled her lips inward. “If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen, right? I won’t ask you to wait for me and I won’t wait for you, but maybe someday we’ll cross paths and things will be different.”

“Yeah,” he said in a dry husk of a voice. He cupped her cheek and planted a kiss on her mouth, stifling his desire to say, But wait for me .

They held the kiss a long time. It wasn’t hot and passionate. It was hard and still and tasted of yearning. He wanted the power to stop time and fast-forward to the unknown moment when things might be different.

When he pulled back, his chest was tight. He tucked her head under his chin again, closing his eyes against the sting in them.

“When are you leaving?” Her voice was muffled against his shirt.

“I don’t know. I have to make some calls.”

She nodded, but kept her face hidden. Her shoulders seemed to tremble under his arms.

“Ahoy!” Biyen shouted from outside. “Cloe, can I come aboard?”

Cloe drew back and swept a surreptitious knuckle under her eye before reaching for her crutches.

“Sure, buddy,” she called, voice only cracking a little. In an undertone, she added to Trystan, “I’ll tell you why Logan lets me to work on the weekend. So he has a reason to send Biyen up to tell me to quit.” She winked.

“That man does not have a subtle bone in his body.”

“Uh-oh,” Biyen said when his head popped over the gunwale and he saw Trystan. He finished coming aboard. “Logan said I should tell Cloe to go home before you got back and found her working ’cause otherwise you would cut off his”—he cupped around his mouth to whisper-spell—“N-U-T-S and feed them to the squirrels.” He immediately started giggling in his infectious way.

“I’m probably going to do that right after I finish my chores on the Storm Ridge . You want to help me?”

“Do the chores or…?” His crinkle-browed expression was priceless.

They all cracked up.

“The chores , you clown.”

“Sure!” Biyen said. “Will you text my mom and tell her where I am so she doesn’t worry?”

“Sure thing.” Trystan exchanged a look of wry amusement with Cloe, silently agreeing that Sophie and Logan were not worried. “Do you need anything before we go?” he asked her. It was starting to hit him that she was really leaving. This was over. They were over. Shit. How was it possible to be both fully grounded and standing outside his own body?

“I have one more cabin I want to finish before knocking off.” Cloe untied her coveralls and started to slide her arms back into the sleeves. “I’ll see you at dinner, though. Emma invited me.”

“Okay. Good.” He wanted to spend every last second with her, but Biyen was already down the ladder, calling, “Bye, Cloe!”

Trystan waved and followed him.

*

Trystan lucked out. A pilot he knew brought in a pair of guests from Vancouver two days later. He said Trystan could hop in for the flight back if he covered the fuel.

Within the hour, Trystan was on the tarmac, saying the emotional good-byes he had hoped to avoid. The one with Cloe on the wharf yesterday had been hard enough. All the women had cried, especially Cloe when she had finished hugging Storm and handed her back to Emma.

Logan had given her contacts in Miami to ask about work and a place to stay. Reid told her again that she was welcome anytime to visit Storm.

Trystan hadn’t known what to say. He’d only hugged her and asked against her ear, “You sure you’ll be okay?”

She had nodded, kissed the corner of his mouth, then clambered aboard the water taxi wearing that threadbare packsack that should have been eighty-sixed when she had arrived.

Now it was his turn to say good-bye and a weird déjà vu accosted him. It wasn’t a full five months since he’d crawled out of a plane to find Sophie waiting for them here, but so much had changed. Not the weather, of course. It was raining again, but he and his brothers had been surly and sullen as the skies that day.

Today, Reid and Logan shook his hand and clapped his shoulder, wishing him luck. Emma had been quiet and intimidated back then. Today she grew teary as she hugged him.

“I’ll miss you, mate. Don’t be a stranger.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

Even Sophie, who was never sentimental about his comings and goings, sniffed and hugged him extra hard. “Don’t you dare miss my wedding. You’re my flower girl.”

“I thought I’d have to fight Reid for that honor.”

“He’s singing ‘Ave Maria’ while I walk down the aisle.”

Trystan would have chuckled, but now it was time to say good-bye to the real flower girl, and he thought he might cry himself because every hour and week and month he’d been here was evident in how much her sturdy little body and her soggy, toothy grin had changed. She tried to poke him in the eye with her wet finger before she snuggled into his shoulder ever so trustingly, then bounced on his arm.

It struck him that he was going to miss all the ways she would grow and change while he was away from her, and damn, that made his throat hurt.

“All right, piglet.” He tipped her and caught her foot, pretending to eat her toes. “I’ll see you soon. Remember that I’m your favorite.”

Handing her back to Em was like pulling his heart from his own chest and offering it. He dropped his sunglasses over his stinging eyes, saluted, and stepped into the copilot’s seat.

“Okay?” the pilot asked.

“Yep.” He would be, he told himself.