Page 49 of Unmoored

“Oh,” I murmur softly.

Mom’s talked a lot about love before—and it’s only now that I’m realizing she was trying to make me see something about me and George that I couldn’t back then. But I’ve never heard it said like that before.

“Thanks, Mom,” I finally say. “I’m glad I called.”

“Me too, honey. I love you.” Then, just before I can hang up, she adds, “Tell me about him when you’re ready.”

I freeze and stutter, bringing the phone back to my ear as I blush furiously, and she just laughs. “W-Wait… what? I mean, I just broke up with George. I—I didn’t want you to think…”

“The heart knows what it knows. And so do moms.”

“How?”

“For a start, you’re calling me,” she says with a little chuckle. “So I like this one already. What’s his name?”

My cheeks burn. I slap my hand against my forehead. “Yeah. He did tell me to call,” I admit. “Murph. That’s all I’m saying, okay? For now.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums. Then she waits, and Iknowwhat she’s doing, but the seconds tick by, one—two—three?—

Damn it, I can’t stop myself. “He’s a barge skipper, and he’s so kind. Strong and silent. The real rugged kind, but his heart is just pure gold.”

“Eden,” Mom breathes out, her voice choked up. “Oh, I’m so glad for you.”

It’s hard not to wax poetic about the way he looks when he’s standing on the deck, stoic and rugged, silently gazing across the ocean. It just feels like jinxing it to do it before we have the conversation about… you know,labels.

“It’s not—we’re not yet—I mean, we’re figuring things out. Don’t let Dad stalk him on Facebook, okay?”

She laughs. “Of course, honey. I just want to meet anyone who reminds you of who you are. We’ve really missed you, sweetie.”

I pause, my lips trembling as I smile. “Yeah. Me too.” I mean to say that I’ve missed them,andI’ve missed myself… but she knows that, of course. “Thanks, Mom. I love you. Tell Dad I love him, too, eh?”

“Of course. I love you too, Eden. Call us again soon.”

“I will,” I promise. “Bye, Mom.”

As I hang up, I press my phone against my forehead for a few seconds, staring at Sunrise Island. I used to call Mom in my early days in Vancouver—before me and George moved in together—and tell her about all my doubts and fears. She always encouraged me to stay there, to keep following my heart until it led me where I needed to go.

It’s the weirdest feeling right now. Instead of calling to tell her about my doubts and fears, hoping for a pep talk about trusting the compass of my heart… I’m calling to tell her that it worked.

I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

As I glance into the boat, my gaze lands on that canvas with its dark red clouds, still turned away and facing the wall.

I wait for the sinking feeling in my stomach, but… it doesn’t come. It’s like I’m not afraid of looking it in the eye, now that it’s too far away to touch me.

“Huh,” I murmur, tilting my head. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Even in a few short days, I can feel which way the tide is pulling me. My life is moving on now. There will always be another storm ahead… but that just means that a little ways beyond that, there’s another moment where the clouds melt away and the sun comes out yet again.

And I think I’ve found the right man to help me chart a course to the other side. He’s brave enough, there’s no doubt about that. I just hope he knows what he wants—and, more than anything, I hope the answer is me.

ChapterEighteen

MURPH

“Mmm,”I grunt, stretching to touch the ceiling beam.

It’s six in the morning, and I’m rolling out of bed for the morning milk run. But I wouldn’t trade this routine for anything. No kayakers, lost tourists, or ferries to steer around. Just me and the familiar rush of fresh, briny air rushing across my face.

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