Page 71 of Chasing Sunsets

I nod at the sudden subject change. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He grins. “Hope you like it medium rare.”

The rest of the evening flows comfortably. We eat on the deck, the sound of the waves in the distance, the breeze carrying the scent of grilled steak and fresh herbs. The food is incredible—perfectly cooked steaks, roasted potatoes, grilled asparagus. Porter cracks jokes between bites, making me laugh more than I have in a long time. Margot asks questions—not too prying, but enough to make it clear she wants to know me.

I keep my answers vague.

I tell them I grew up in New England, but don’t say where.

I tell them I came to Sandcastle Cove because I wanted to be by the ocean, but don’t tell them about Indigo or the Florida Keys.

I tell them I live in my RV at the campground, but don’t explain how or why or if I plan to remain a permanent resident at The Sandspur.

Despite the gaps in my story, they seem to like me. I can feel it. Margot’s smiles come easily, Porter’s laughter is genuine, and Anson … he watches me in that quiet, unreadable way of his, like he’s seeing all the pieces I’m not showing.

It should make me uncomfortable.

But it doesn’t.

At some point, Margot disappears inside and comes back with a plate of homemade peach cobbler.

I groan after the first bite, closing my eyes. “Okay, this is amazing.”

Margot beams. “It’s Anson’s favorite. I make one anytime I know he’s coming for dinner.”

Something warm settles in my chest as I see how she clearly knows and adores her son. I don’t know what to do with this feeling, so I just take another bite of cobbler.

The evening stretches on, the conversation easy, the company even easier. And I let myself relax.

I let myself pretend this is normal.

That I belong here.

That I’m not just a girl passing through.

That maybe—just maybe—I’m not.

We help Margot clean up before saying our goodbyes. She hugs me once more and tells me that she hopes to see me again soon before Anson leads me back to his truck.

“Told you,” he says. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

I shake my head. “No, it wasn’t bad at all. Your parents are great.”

He’s so lucky.

Tabby

“What are you up to now?” Freda asks as I watch the YouTube video on the computer screen.

“I saw a flier in the post office for a paddleboarding fitness group. Apparently, it’s a good cardio and core workout. I thought I might give it a shot,” I say as I watch the instructor explain the basics.

“You have a paddleboard?” she asks.

“No, but I’m sure I could rent one.”

She walks over to the desk, pulls open the top drawer, grabs a small silver key, and hands it to me. “If I recall correctly, there’s an old paddleboard in the storage shed. If you can find it in that mess.”

“Really?”

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