Page 5 of Ebbing Tides (The Lighthouse Duology #2)

From an early age, we were encouraged to find someone to share our lives with. A wife. A husband. Someone to raise a family with, grow old with, die with.

With .

This was what we were taught—or at least, most people were—and that a life wasn’t full or worth a damn unless you were accompanied by another person on this journey that would always, ultimately, end in loneliness.

I’d had a late start when Laura and I rekindled our romance—if you could even call it that in the beginning—in my early thirties.

I thought I’d found my person —and one who came with a built-in family, no less.

I devoted my entire heart and life, every second, every intention , to Laura and her girls.

Everything I did was done with them in mind, and, oh my God, I loved them, and how fucked up it was that I was only given a handful of years to call them mine?

I had told myself I deserved it, told myself it was karma for the lives I’d destroyed and taken, and I never gave my heart permission to open up again.

It was a dangerous game of Russian roulette to fall in love. I knew that better than most … except for maybe Charlie’s sister-in-law, Melanie.

Melanie .

I sat at my desk, facing the computer monitor that was almost as big as my TV at home.

Tiled videos covered the screen, live footage from the two dozen cameras set up around the cemetery.

My job was to watch them, to listen for the alarm to sound.

Normally, I did my job well and took it seriously.

These hallowed grounds were sacred and deserved to be protected.

But tonight, shamefully, my attention was repeatedly pulled back to the pack of cigarettes and lighter taking up residence beside my mug of coffee.

Melanie had trusted me—a total stranger to her—with these cherished items. Why? Had she been that desperate to hide them from someone that she’d give them to just anyone? I didn’t think so, but what had made her think she could ensure their safety with me ?

“Probably Chuck,” I muttered, glancing at Lido lying on the floor beside me.

No, not Chuck. Charlie .

Of course, Charlie had mentioned me to her before, had assured her we were friends. That was the only thing that made any kind of sense. And still, it felt strange to have these things here. Another man’s belongings. Her husband’s.

Luke .

What was the name of that guy from the auto repair shop?

I sighed. It was only ten o’clock. There were another seven hours until I could clock out and head back to Dad’s house.

Being the night watchman at a cemetery wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but most days, I enjoyed it.

I liked my solitude. I liked the time to think, read, sometimes play a video game if the mood struck.

But nights like this, when my mind would rather wander than find contentment in the quiet …

These were the long ones.

The ones that trudged by at a snail’s pace.

I looked at the clock again— 10:04 .

With a groan, I spun in my chair and scooted the six feet to the mini fridge to grab a cold can of Dr. Pepper.

Knock, knock, knock.

The sound on the door startled me, as it always did.

Visitors weren’t ever expected—and, yes, if you were wondering, occasionally, someone who wasn’t there would play a friendly, albeit slightly annoying and unnerving, game of Ding-Dong Ditch.

Tonight wasn’t one of those times though, I quickly learned, as I opened the door to find Charlie standing on the other side.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” I teased my friend, stepping aside to let him into the office that was really no bigger than a medium-sized shed with a powder room.

“I can’t stay long,” he said.

Lido stood to greet our guest, and Charlie answered with a pat on his head.

“What can I do for you, brother?” I asked, closing the door to the cold night.

Let me take this moment to describe Charlie.

Tall, about my height—six foot three or so, give or take an inch.

Long, dark hair that seemed to always be pulled back into some kind of ponytail or knot at the back of his head—or at least whenever I was in his presence.

He had a beard and a slender face and build.

A little gaunt maybe, but not in such a way that you’d consider him unhealthy, with an obvious penchant for wearing black—and only black—clothes.

Basically, if you had to imagine a gravedigger, Charlie Corbin was it, and the only thing about his appearance that suggested he’d done anything with his life but live within the walls of a cemetery were the spiderweb tattoos sprawled over his arms and hands, creeping up from the collar of his jacket to travel halfway up his slender neck.

“Stormy told me to come by,” he went on as I sat back down in my chair.

I nodded, glancing at the screen. “Okay …”

“This might be out of left field, but do you have anything going on this week?”

Slowly turning back toward him, I replied, “Well, uh … apart from work …”

He sighed like the conversation was already too much for him.

The man liked socialization about as much as I did.

He dropped down into the only other chair in the office—there wasn’t any room for more than two, and besides, what would be the point?

His palms scrubbed over the sides of his face as he seemed to prepare himself to continue.

“All right. So, in a nutshell, Melanie is here for a week. She doesn’t get much of a chance to do stuff without the kids when she’s at home, so Stormy thought that, while she’s here, maybe we could take her to do some more … you know … grown-up stuff.”

I furrowed my brow. “Grown-up stuff,” I muttered dryly. “So, what are we talking about here? Strip clubs? Porn shops?”

It was a dumb attempt at a joke, one that Charlie clearly couldn’t handle as he huffed with a laugh, his face turning red.

“I was thinking more along the lines of, you know, maybe going out to a nice restaurant. Maybe a, uh … a bar or—”

“No, I understand what you’re saying,” I cut him off, worrying now about why he’d come to me specifically.

“Melanie’s a little weird about letting strangers watch her kids, which I completely understand, so we were thinking—”

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right here,” I said, holding up a staying hand. “Are you asking me to take your sister-in-law out on a date ?”

Charlie’s expression faltered at the disdain in my voice.

“I don’t really know that date is the word I’d use.

I mean, Stormy just thought that, since you had gotten along earlier, when you dropped Melanie off at the house, and if you weren’t—but, obviously, if you’re busy or if you …

” His voice trailed off as his eyes met mine.

“Wait, you aren’t married, right? Stormy said you weren’t, but if you are , then—”

“No,” I interjected, shaking my head. “I was. But, uh … no. Anyway, I’m flattered you asked. Melanie seems nice. But I have to see if my schedule is clear.”

He nodded. “Oh, right, yeah, of course. And if you can’t, it’s fine. Stormy can watch the kids, and I can take Mel out, or vice versa … it’s not a big deal. Stormy just thought … well, you know …” He gestured toward me, and I did know. God, did I.

She— they?— thought they would play matchmaker.

Help the poor widowed woman have a good time for a night or two.

Just as my sisters and Sid and Ricky had tried to do countless times throughout the years with me.

And the good intention was always there—I knew that.

Nothing hurtful or malicious was ever meant by it—of course not.

But sometimes, their well-intentioned nudge was better left for when it was asked for.

And I had never asked Sid to set me up with one of Grace’s coworkers, and I highly doubted Melanie had sent Charlie out to my office.

“Anyway, I’ll get out of your way,” Charlie said abruptly, standing up and heading to the door before he had a chance to overstay his welcome.

That was one thing I appreciated about him. He never gave me the opportunity to come close to getting sick of him.

“Let me know if you’re free this week,” he continued, opening the door. “And listen, if you’re just not into the idea, that’s all right. I just thought I’d—”

“It’s fine,” I told him. “I’ll let you know what my week looks like.”

He gave a curt nod and a faint smile, then left and closed the door behind him.

I stared off, unblinking, for a moment, mulling over what I had just said. It’s fine . But was it though? Was it fine? Had I only said it was because I was afraid of being honest with Charlie … or was it the most honest thing I’d said in God only knew how long?

“A date,” I murmured to myself, and Lido lifted his head from his bed beside the desk. I looked into his soulful eyes. “I think I might’ve just agreed to go on a date.”

His brows lifted, one by one, before he scrambled excitedly from his bed, his tail waving and his tongue lolling as he rested his head in my lap.

I sniffed a quiet laugh as I ruffled his ears and gave his face a sufficient squish, wishing all the while that I could feel that level of excitement without the awful, sour taste of guilt.