Page 38 of Chasing Sunsets

She just smiles, reaching over to wipe some grease off my cheek, her touch gentle but firm.

“Please,” she says, “you know you’re not really known for being the relationship type.”

I open my mouth to argue, but she raises a brow, daring me to try. I don’t. She’s right. I don’t do relationships. Never have. Girls come and go, and that’s always been fine with me.

Until now.

I swallow hard, looking down at my feet. “It’s different with her,” I admit. “I don’t know why, but it is.”

Mom nods, like she already knew that. “Tell me more about her.”

I hesitate. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t even know where to start. Tabby is … she’s different. Not just from other girls I’ve been with, but from anyone I’ve ever met. She’s got this way about her, like she belongs anywhere and nowhere at the same time. She’s sharp but kind, guarded but open in a way that makes you want to know every part of her.

“She’s … complicated,” I say finally. “But not in a bad way. She’s just got layers, you know?”

Mom smiles. “And you want to peel them back.”

I nod, exhaling through my nose. “Yeah.”

Something shifts in her expression, something soft and understanding. She reaches up, brushing my hair back the way she used to when I was younger. “That’s not a bad thing, you know,” she says. “Caring about someone.”

“I know it’s not.”

“Do you?” she asks.

I meet her gaze, and for the first time, I let myself be honest. “It scares me.”

Mom sighs, her hand dropping to her side. “Love does that,” she says. “But it’s worth it.”

I shake my head. “Whoa. I didn’t say anything about love, Mom.”

She chuckles, picking up her tea again. “Maybe not yet,” she says. “But you don’t have to be afraid of what it could be. Just let what happens happen.”

I look away, staring out at the tree line. The idea of letting things happen—of not fighting it—feels foreign to me. But at the same time, the thought of pushing Tabby away doesn’t sit right either.

Mom watches me for a breath, then takes a sip of her tea. “Invite her over for dinner,” she says casually.

I blink. “What?”

She smirks. “I’d like to meet her. Invite her for dinner with me and your father.”

I rub the back of my neck. “I don’t know—”

“Anson.”

I sigh.

“Just think about it,” she says, giving my arm a squeeze before heading back toward the house.

I watch her go, her words lingering in my head.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe I can just see where this goes without worrying about labeling it.

Maybe, for the first time, I actually want to.

I headed home after I got the trailer loose and the boat covered. Now, I’m lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, willing sleep to take over. It doesn’t. It won’t. My body’s exhausted, my muscles sore from hauling the boat, fighting the current, climbing the stairs in the lighthouse, and spending hours under the sun. But my mind? My mind is wide awake, replaying the day over and over.

Tabby’s laugh, the way the wind caught her hair, the teasing smirk she threw over her shoulder as she leaned against the bow of the boat. I can still smell the salt in the air, the hint of coconut and the faintest trace of sunscreen on her skin when she sat close to me. Too close. Not close enough.

---