Page 40 of As a Last Resort

SAMANTHA

I loved watching Austin. The way he interacted with his little fan club made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

It came to him so effortlessly, like he was born to show people the magic of the water.

But the more I watched it, the less I loved it.

Because then I remembered that his business would eventually tank because of my company.

He seemed like such a natural helping them out.

Maybe if I could convince him to follow his dream of starting a fishing charter, it could work out?

Maybe it’d be a blessing in disguise, forcing him to follow his childhood ambition.

He was clearly gifted at it. And he had Harold’s business ripe and ready to be handed to him from the sound of it.

Austin and Robby had been at it all day, locked in an unspoken battle of who could outfish the other, as if the size of their catches could somehow dictate the winner of life.

And the peanut gallery was making for quite the entertaining trio, cheering every time they hooked a fish like it was the final Hail Mary of the Super Bowl.

Austin held the record at forty inches—a beast of a snook he reeled in earlier with steady precision and a smirk that made me roll my eyes but my stomach swan dive. But Robby had a monster on the line, and the tension on the boat was so thick it could’ve been cut with a fishing knife.

“Aaron, you got the tape measure out yet?” Robby grunted through clenched teeth, the back of his breezy buttoned-up white linen shirt soaked through as he wrestled with the rod.

Austin’s jaw flexed but played it cool, even though I could see him throwing Robby overboard in his mind as it played across his face. “Sure thing, Robert,” he said evenly, not glancing at Robby as he coiled the line of his own rod. “And don’t let go of that reel, or you’ll lose him.”

Shirley had her phone out, narrating the story as it happened.

“And this, ladies,” she sang for the video as she crept in for a close-up of Robby’s arm, “is what it looks like when someone who works out reels in a fish.” She zoomed in on his biceps while Robby flexed, making Gail laugh and Ethel cover her mouth and giggle.

The rod in Robby’s hands bent almost in half as the fish fought back.

Austin’s eyes flicked to me for a moment, his mouth twitching with the faintest trace of a smirk. “You might want to loosen the drag,” he offered casually. “Unless you’re planning to snap the line.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Robby shot back, “but this one doesn’t stand a chance.” The line creaked under the strain, and Harold hovered nearby, watching like a referee waiting for the perfect moment to blow the whistle.

The fish surfaced for a split second, its massive tail slapping the water as sea spray flew up and completely soaked the front of Robby’s shirt.

Ethel smirked. “I was just thinking all we needed to get this party started was a wet T-shirt contest.”

Robby let out a triumphant yell. “Did you see that? It’s huge!”

“Yeah, it’s a good one,” Austin’s voice maddeningly calm. “Let’s see if you can land it.”

Robby’s face twisted with determination. The fish darted under the boat, and Harold barked a warning. “Keep the line steady or he’ll wrap you up in the prop!”

“I know!” Beads of sweat formed on Robby’s brow. He shifted his weight, trying to maneuver the rod as the fish took another dive. Austin stepped forward, ready to intervene, but stopped short when Robby shot him a glare.

The line whined again, dangerously taut. “You’re going to lose it if you don’t—” Austin started.

The fish broke the surface again, thrashing wildly as Robby reeled it closer. It was massive—easily the biggest of the day. Austin grabbed the net and positioned himself at the edge of the boat, his movements precise and controlled. “Bring him in slow. Let him tire himself out.”

Robby ignored him, pulling harder, his breaths coming in short, frustrated bursts. The fish gave one last violent thrash, and Austin lunged forward, scooping it into the net with practiced ease.

Robby puffed out his chest, grinning as if he’d just won a gold medal. “Told you I had it under control.”

Austin, to his credit, kept his expression neutral as he measured the fish.

“Nice catch,” he said, his voice even. “Forty-two inches. That’s a monster.

” He genuinely congratulated him, a pillar of professionalism, but I didn’t miss the way his grip tightened on the tape measure or the flicker of frustration in his eyes.

“Oooohhh, looks like we have a new winner!” Gail exclaimed, phone still recording. Robby turned to the camera, his aviators lost somewhere in the battle, and winked.

“That’s a boat record,” Harold called out, his tone impressed. “Looks like you finally got your sea legs, rookie.”

As Robby basked in his victory, Austin glanced at me, and for a split second, I saw something there—something raw and unspoken. He wasn’t just competing with Robby for the biggest fish.

He was competing for me.

The sky was a swirl of bubblegum pink and orange as we pulled back into the marina.

Robby stepped off Harold’s boat and beelined it straight for me. He held out his hand to help me off but I jumped out on my own and gave him a tight smile, the memory of our call earlier snapping me back to reality.

“Austin wants to show me one more spot to check off the list for today.” I kept my tone light but firm. “I’ll text you later.”

Robby gave me his best lost-puppy look, his shoulders slumping just enough to tug at the corners of my sympathy.

“But hey,” I added, softening just a fraction. “Nice fish. For real. That was seriously impressive.” I was being genuine, but I wasn’t about to let him off the hook, pun intended, from this morning. Not yet. His wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing act still felt too raw.

“You good to press down an actual button on a camera, Maverick?” Shirley asked Robby, recruiting him as their new sunset photographer.

The hum of the motor filled the silence around Austin and me on the smaller boat, and I didn’t mind the break in the noise.

The water was pure glass going back, reflecting the pink sky and fluffy clouds that looked like puffs of spun sugar.

There were so many things bouncing in my head I couldn’t think straight.

The call from this morning, Robby lying, the monstrous ferry that would put Austin out of business, my mom whom I still hadn’t heard from, the best kiss of my life…

Why had his door been shut? What did that mean? He seemed fine today.

I gazed out over the water and leaped from subject to subject, wondering what it all meant.

Austin started to slow the boat. “You’ve been quiet since we left.”

“Thinking about how to defend myself against the three little ladies who will most assuredly be kidnapping me in my sleep tonight.”

“I’ve got one more place to show you for a picture, then we’ll head in. It’s just around the corner here. Sound good?”

“Sounds great.”

He pulled around the bend and slowed the motor. It looked like any other inlet until I saw the gnarled tree branch sticking out of the water. It had the same twisted look about it that the branches did from Birchwood Beach.

“Do you recognize it?” he asked.

I looked at him, then back at the branch. “It can’t be.”

“It is. We’re just at high tide.”

I was dumbstruck. “So, the whole beach, it’s under water now? All of it?”

“Almost. About half an hour ago it all was. Tide’s going back out now so we’ll start to see the tallest branches poking out here and there.”

The evidence was small, only a few of the tallest branches reached out from under the water.

“I figured you’d have more of an appreciation for it if you actually saw it in person,” he replied.

The water rocked the boat as we slowly made our way closer and around some of the branches. There was an entire world below us that absolutely no one would know about unless they saw it at a different time of day. It was amazing.

“I feel like there’s a very important lesson about things not being as they appear on the surface here.”

He steered the boat up close to one of the branches.

“I still can’t decide if it’s beautiful or sad,” I traced the warped branches crawling out of the water.

“I think it can be both.”

I took my camera out and started taking pictures, trying to document some of the scenery we were passing. I had a pretty good collection of photographs already from the island but no one would believe this unless they saw it.

“You going to include this in your research?” he asked.

I had originally planned to, but now I wasn’t so sure.

After finding out Glenn’s plan this morning, which had zero care or concern about what the actual island needed, I was waffling.

What would happen to this place? Would Glenn somehow pay off whoever he needed to on the city council, and they’d come in here with bulldozers and excavators and tear up whatever remained?

There was something so special about this place.

It felt like sending it to a certain death if I told anyone else about it.

“I haven’t decided yet. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Amazing how people’s first impressions can be so off, huh?”

“Speaking of first impressions, Captain Harold is your uncle?”

“Married to Josie who owns the Starfish.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he was your uncle?” I asked.

“Never crossed my mind to give you the rundown of the family tree. They weren’t around when you grew up here.”

“The family connections never cease to amaze me on this island.”

“They moved here about five years ago from the Keys. Josie is my dad’s sister. She took over the Starfish and he transferred his charter business. Both started booming after about a year. They’re good people. Both a little quirky.”

“They’re perfect for each other.”

“They absolutely are. Soulmates.” He winked and my stomach swooped.

“Why won’t you take over his business?” I could tell he wanted to joke around but I wanted to know about this whole fishing thing.

It would be the perfect out. I couldn’t shake the morning call with Glenn, and to my knowledge there were no plans whatsoever for any fishing charters in Glenn’s vision.

If Austin really wanted to go that route, he wouldn’t be a target.

“I’m not sure if you noticed, but I’ve got my own business to run.”

“But isn’t fishing what you really want to do?” I asked as he navigated the boat around the largest branch that stuck out from the water. It reached over our heads by about a foot.

“I’m happy where I am.”

“But if you had to pick, what do you like to do more? Running fishing charters or running a tourist ferry?”

He narrowed his eyes on me. “Why are you needling me?”

“I’m not needling you, I’m just asking the question in different ways until you actually answer. I don’t understand what’s so scary about taking over the fishing charter business.”

He exhaled. He took a second to respond. “The shuttle business is a need that I fill. It’s where I fit right now.”

“You can’t do both?” I asked.

“How would I do both?”

I’d already thought through all the different options he could take if plans were approved on a fast track, the best one hiring a captain to run Scuttle’s Ferry back and forth for the next eighteen months while the resort was being built.

Austin could focus on building his fishing charter and by the time the resort opened, the charter business could be huge.

He’d have no need to run the ferry anymore.

“Captain Harold’s got the fishing thing covered.”

“Sounds to me like he’s teed you up to take over easily.”

“Nothing’s that easy, trust me.” He huffed and turned away, like he was ready for the conversation to switch.

“He literally said, the moment my nephew wants the business, it’s his . Explain to me how that’s not easy?”

“Family’s not ever that easy. You know that. It’s not a guaranteed thing.”

Well, nothing was guaranteed. Out of all people I’d assumed he’d know that, but it sounded as perfectly set up as it could possibly be.

And if he took over, he wouldn’t be forced out and left without a job.

Or a company. “So you’d give up your dream of owning a fishing business because you don’t want to fail at taking over an already wildly successful business? ”

“That’s not what I said, Sam.”

“Not in those words, but what could be the real reason? That just sounds like an excuse not to follow a dream.”

He leaned against the side of the boat and crossed his arms, the playful smile wiped from his face.

“Wow. Okay. What about you? I’m sure your dream job isn’t sitting in a high-rise working a ninety-hour-a-week job for the rest of your life with a human resources time bomb and what sounds like a dead-end promotion wise? ”

I flinched. The look on his face immediately fell.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out so harsh.”

“No, no. I mean you’re totally right. I thought for a long time that’s exactly what my dream job looked like. Climbing to the top floor of some cushy building where my corner office and secretary sat waiting. Turns out I’m not qualified for that after all.”

“I don’t think qualifications are the deciding factor in your position,” he countered.

I looked out onto the horizon again. It was starting to turn dark and the water looked like black oil pooling around the orphan tree limbs.

“What would you want to do, if you could do anything? No restrictions,” he asked. He was giving me an olive branch, trying to erase the last twenty minutes. But an image of the huge passenger craft on the water bulldozing his ferry popped in my mind.

“I have absolutely no idea anymore.”

The last rays of sunlight drained from the sky and the temperature immediately dropped. We were quiet as he turned back toward the marina. The moon reflected off the water on the way back in the most peaceful way—while everything inside me churned like a squall at sea.

I bolted the minute we got to the dock, leaving Austin to his normal cleanup duties.

I physically felt the weight of the last few days on my shoulders.

I was tired of feeling so many different emotions in such a short timeframe with my mom.

So tired of fighting with Glenn for my ideas to be heard.

Heavy from the new guilt that had been put on my plate from this morning and the call.

Guilt for what that call meant, not only for Austin, but the entire town.