Page 91 of The Lightkeeper

“It’s finally finished,” Lou said quietly; she was probably the only one who knew that the painting on the wall this morning wasn’t the same as it was left yesterday.

I held the frame, staring at one of my oldest paintings. The seascape shone with new life.

I’d stopped by the gallery late last night to check on a few last-minute things. Maybe it was nerves in anticipation of today. Maybe it was getting harder and harder to spend each night in my bed alone. I missed her. I missed her so damn much, I felt like a fish trying to live without water. But when I saw the painting on the wall—the one she always stared at—I found myself drawn to it, too. I used to be able to recognize myself in the dark clouds, the tumultuous storm, the hollow shell trying to stay in one piece… but last night, I didn’t recognize anything, and I couldn’t let it go.

I’d taken the painting back to the lighthouse and worked into the deepest hours of the night. Stars dotted the sky, and the moon was at its peak by the time I’d finished adding—altering the painting how I wanted. Only then did I finally sleep and return it this morning.

It felt right the way it looked now, but it felt wrong to put it back on the wall. And now, I realized why. It didn’t belong on the wall, it belonged with her.Even if she didn’t want me, I wanted her to have this. I wanted her to know how she’d changed me. For the better.

“Almost,” I rasped and turned toward the door. “I have to go.” Suddenly, my blood began to hum, an urgency erupting in it that wouldn’t stay still. I’d played this moment over and over in my mind for the last week—what I would do if I made it through the show. Would I text her? Call her? Beg her to forgive me andcome back to the lighthouse? But only now, the answer was clear. “I have to go to Boston.”

Mom made a small noise, her hand quickly coming to cover her mouth.

“You know what?” Frankie stepped forward. “I have to go to Boston to get this new scent I want to use. It’s super exclusive. Can I come with you?”

My gaze met hers, and I hardly nodded before Jamie spoke.

“I actually have a customer in Boston who I need to measure for a custom bed frame for, any chance I can tag along too?”

“Yeah—”

“Oh, you know, a supplier reached out to me about providing new glass jars for the farm,” Mom added, joining the ranks. “They were going to send someone up here, but if you’re going to Boston, I can just pop in and speak with them in the city.”

I looked across all of them, their excuses were as transparent as the plea in their eyes.Let us come. Let us be there for you. Let us be strong for you. Let us help you be strong.They knew going back to Boston was a far cry from having anart show in a small town. They knew, like I did, what the risks were. And they wanted to make sure I had every support.

Sometimes the bravest thing you could do was to let someone else fight with you—for you. For love.

“And you?” I turned to Lou. “What’s your excuse?”

“Me?” She gaped, and then smiled and took the painting from my hands. “I’m your gallery manager. It’s my job to make sure every painting makes it to its final destination in perfect condition.”

A smile flitted over my face, and I shook my head. “And you, Gigi?”

She chuckled and smiled so big, her eyes almost completely crinkled shut before she swatted my arm. “I’m ninety-seven yearsold, Christopher. I stopped needing an excuse to do what I want a long time ago.”

“Fair enough,” I rasped. “Meet me at the lighthouse, and we’ll leave from there.”

My mind was a sea of thoughts by the time I parked in front of the house, the white, weathered structure seeming taller and brighter than it ever had before.

I wanted to grab a bag, just in case I didn’t come back tonight. I didn’t want to have expectations, but I also wanted to be prepared. I also wanted to give one of my sisters instructions on how to take care of Stuart in case I ended up away for a few days.

What if she couldn’t come back here?

What if her father wasn’t doing well and she had to stay in Boston?

Could I stay there?

The band in my chest tightened, and I slowly absorbed the fear.There was no point in worrying about that now.Right now, I just needed to talk to her. I needed to tell her this wasn’t an experiment—that Iloved her.

I was almost to the door when a noise stopped me.

A familiar, high-pitched squeal.

My head jerked, and then it hit me. The flash of dark curls just above the rocks. The scent of orange and vanilla clinging to the sea breeze.Was I imagining it?I moved like lightning to the bluff, my heart galloping in my chest when I reached the edge.

No, I wasn’t imagining it at all.

“Aurora?Richard?”

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