Page 43 of Rise
She hesitated, confused, but there was something in his face, something solid and certain, not pushy, but not casual either. Just… there.
So she reached into the pocket of her cardigan, unlocked her phone, and handed it over.
Beck tapped a few things, thumb slow against the screen. When he handed it back, his touch was light.
“I added my number,” he said, nodding towards her. “Just in case. You reach out if you need anything, alright?”
Hazel looked down at the screen.
Beck.
Nothing more, nothing less, like it didn’t need to be.
Her throat tightened but not in a painful way. It was that same, unspoken and cresting emotion that often threatened her in these quiet moments with him. The one she often pushed aside, too afraid to try and ponder for too long. She did it again, now, swallowing against the heaviness of it.
“Okay,” she agreed, a beat later. Her voice was soft, her eyes remaining on his. “Thanks.”
The wind tugged at her hair again, curling it across her cheek, and this time she didn’t bother to tuck it back. Beck had turned toward the water again but something about his stance shifted. He had angled himself just slightly toward her, like instinct. Like protection.
They stood that way for another long, unspoken moment.
And then Hazel reached back out towards him, offering the mug of coffee for a second time.
He took it from her without a word and swallowed another sip, slower this time, his lips curving just slightly at the taste, the warmth. It should’ve felt strange or intimate in a way that bordered on too much, sharing a cup of coffee. But it didn’t. It felt natural.
He tried to pass it back but Hazel shook her head.
“Keep it,” she said. “I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”
He started to protest, already lifting it in offering again, but she cut him off with a wide smile.
“You can just bring the mug back tomorrow.”
That made him pause.
A smile ghosted at the corner of his mouth, not wide like hers, and not bright, but warm in a way she felt in her ribs.
“Alright,” he agreed, nodding. “Tomorrow.”
Hazel stepped back a little, wrapping her arms around herself against the wind. It carried in off the water now, stronger and cooler than before. She didn’t shiver, not exactly, but he noticed. She could tell by the way he moved just slightly again, like he might block more of it if she stayed.
“You should get back to your skiff,” she murmured, though she wanted nothing more than to stay there with him, soft words exchanged between them as their eyes wandered the darkening horizon.
“Yes, ma’am,” Beck said, dry and even, already turning back toward the open bay, but not before giving her one last unreadable look.
Hazel lingered a moment longer, just to watch him move. He was efficient, and grounded, entirely unbothered by the cold. The tiniest bit of wince in his step, like always. She wondered what he’d do once the storm hit. If he’d keep working, if he had a place like hers to hunker down. If he’d end up at the lighthouse, keeping watch on the town from his high perch.
She wondered what else he did when he wasn’t here, or when he wasn’t installing bells in bakeries, or helping with shorefront clean-ups. She had a feeling that a lot of what he did was in service of others; but in that quiet, unspoken way of his. The type that never sought out athank you.
The thought sat warm and unsteady in her chest.
She turned, finally, and started the slow walk back up the hill, coffee-less now, but steadier somehow.
8
The rain had picked up sometime around dusk, soft at first. It was a constant rapt against the windows, steady and rhythmic. But by the time the clock crept past nine, the wind had begun to howl low through the trees, rising and falling like breath caught in a throat. Hazel stood just inside the front door, fingers stiff from the cold, rainwater dripping from the hem of her sleeves and trailing down the backs of her hands. Her boots were caked with wet leaves, the soles slick with mud from the edge of the shed where the generator lived.
She gave the knob on the door a sharp twist and locked it, pausing for a second as she listened to the generator hum outside. Low and steady, with a full tank of gas. It would hold if the power went.
