Page 41 of Since the Day We Left

He staggered into view, bent low, cradling something to his chest. His face and clothes were coated in soot. He couldn’t stop coughing.

At first, she couldn’t tell what he was carrying. Then a bark. Max’s head appeared, nose twitching as he emerged from Miles’s arms.

Miles clutched something else flat against his side. Just as he cleared the doorway, the awning gave way, collapsing in a shower of embers.

She collided with Miles in a desperate embrace, sobs wracking her throat. Max squirmed between them, whimpering softly.

“You’re okay.” Her hands moved over him—his soot-smeared cheeks, his shoulders—“You’re both okay.”

Max licked at their faces. Miles tried to speak, but the effort only triggered another fit of coughing. His arms were marred with burns, his eyes red and bloodshot.

Wendi draped an arm around him and guided him across the street, away from the fire. He felt hot through his shirt and leaned heavily against her.

Arthur squeezed by the onlookers. “My boy,” he said. “Always the brave one.”

Miles straightened, holding out the covered canvas he’d protected. The sheet was singed. “Couldn’t leave this behind.”

Arthur took the painting, his hands trembling as he removed the sheet. The crowd gathered, momentarily forgetting the fire.

It was a painting of the cove, but unlike his others, this one had people in it ...

A small boy held a spiral shell to his ear. A red-haired girl sat nearby. A man stood at the water’s edge, watching them.

“Been trying to get this one right for months,” Arthur said. “Couldn’t remember everything, but knew it mattered.”

Wendi gasped as the memory hit her—a day at the cove as a child, a sad-eyed boy, his distracted father.

Miles reached into his pocket and pulled out the familiar spiral shell.

“It was you,” Wendi whispered, breathless with the realization.

“You?” Miles’s eyes widened, turning the shell in his hand. “This got me through everything. That little girl at the cove told me it was magic.”

Wendi touched the shell and their fingers brushed. “I never knew if it helped.”

“Every day.” Miles looked right at her. “That kindness. Your smile. I’ve thought about you—every single day.”

“You did?”

They stood amidst the chaos—fire, sirens, and shouting voices—but Wendi only saw Miles. His hand gently cupped her face. “I think I’ve been looking for you my whole life.”

A sharp breath hitched in her throat, but before she could speak, his lips found hers.

The world blurred.

The crackling fire, the frantic voices—they all faded. There was only Miles. He tasted of salt and smoke and something unmistakably him. The scrape of his unshaven jaw sent shivers to her bones.

She sank into him, fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer. It wasn’t just their first kiss—it was every kiss they should’ve had, every longing glance, every moment that had led them here. It was the feeling of coming home to something she hadn’t even known she was missing.

When they finally pulled away, his forehead rested against hers. Right now, nothing else mattered.

Only this. Only them.

Max barked and circled their feet. Some people cheered. Others wiped tears away.

The fire trucks arrived, their red lights flashing across the scene. Firefighters rushed past with hoses, but Wendi knew The Painted Shell was beyond saving.

The sirens blared. The crowd murmured in low voices. The fire hissed as water hit it.

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