Page 15

Leah

“So, this salmon…” I speared a piece and waved my fork around to catch Maxine’s attention. “Are we sure it’s not laced with something? Because I swear I’m addicted now.”

Maxine chuckled, sipping her wine. “I assure you, it’s just salt, pepper, and a little bit of lemon juice.

Nothing suspicious here.” She tapped the rim of her plate with her fork and I pretended not to notice that she hadn’t taken a single bite.

Right. Vampire. I tried not to let my internal alarm show on my face.

In all our time together, I’d never seen her eat anything. But then again, we’d never sat down for a meal together so it was fairly easy to overlook until now.

She was clever about it, pushing her food around her plate. She’d spear a piece of roasted vegetable now and then, move it around while she talked, bring it to her mouth, and set it down again to ask me a question. Then do it all over again. The perfect illusion.

My gaze flicked to her glass of wine, and I wondered what was really in there.

The thought slid through my mind before I could stop it, a chill snaking down my spine.

Of course, I knew Maxine was a vampire. I’d known for a while now.

But in all the time she’d been living on my boat I hadn’t paused to consider what that really meant.

She was just so… human. It was easy to forget, easy to brush it off like it wasn’t a big deal.

I pushed the thought from my head, glancing up at the paper lanterns she’d strung up in the canopy. “You really outdid yourself tonight. The food, the decor, the dress.” I set my fork down, meeting her eye. “Thank you. This – all of this… just, thank you.”

Maxine’s cheeks warmed, and she twirled the neck of her glass absentmindedly. “I just wanted you to feel special.” She glanced down, and when she looked up again, her eyes held genuine sincerity. “You work so hard and you tolerate me like a champ. You deserve a little pampering.”

Her sincerity tugged at my heart. She’d done all this for me – someone she didn’t even realize had been… well, conspiring against her. Guilt curdled the food in my stomach as I forced a nod of appreciation, swallowing the confession that threatened to tear free.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I teased, though my chest tightened somewhat. “But for real, thank you. It’s… nice to have an evening that isn’t all algae swabs and lab reports.”

Maxine flashed a fleeting smile, then went silent for a long moment, pushing a piece of broccoli around her plate. I could see tension coiling in her posture, like she was bracing for something. Eventually, she cleared her throat.

“Leah, I –” she faltered, lifted her glass, set it down again. “I know I’ve kept a lot of secrets from you, and… I know you might not fully trust me because of it–”

“I trust you.” I spoke abruptly, cutting her off. “I know I gave you hell for how you handled things but… I trust you, Max.”

“Oh.” She stared at me, suddenly at a loss for words, before shaking her head. “Well – Look there’s so much I want to share with you, so much you deserve to know. About me, about my – my family…”

She trailed off and I watched her, my heart lodged in my throat. Was this an attempt at a confession?

When she failed to speak again, I leaned forward, propping my elbows on the table and asking cautiously, “Do you still speak to your family?”

She set her fork down with a definitive click and folded her arms.

“No.” The single word held a thousand unresolved emotions. A beat passed before she sighed. “I haven’t seen them since I Ieft San Francisco. They probably haven’t forgiven me for running, but we never really got along to begin with.”

“Why?”

“I couldn’t live up to their expectations. I still can’t.” Maxine brought her glass to her lips, shrugging between sips. “They want me to be something I’m not.”

I turned her words over in my head, slotting the puzzle pieces into place. I had met her family only once, and it had only been her mother and her brother, but I could see how they wouldn’t have gotten along. Maxine was sunshine, vibrant and lively. Her family was… lifeless. Cold and cruel.

Even so, I had a job to do. “So you don’t think you’ll ever try to make amends?”

Maxine stiffened, her expression shuttering in an instant.

“No,” she said curtly. Then, catching my uneasy stare, she forced a sigh. “It’s complicated.”

My heart pounded. Just one more push . “Would it really be so bad, though? Going back, I mean? Maybe you could work something out.”

Her reaction was immediate – shock, then something that looked a lot like fear clouded her features. “Leah,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “if I go back, I’d be trapped for the rest of my life. You have no idea what they’re capable of.”

Guilt speared through my gut, twisting sharply. I have some idea, actually. Keeping my expression neutral was harder than ever as I watched her eyes fill with genuine dread.

“I’m sorry,” I offered quietly, my throat tight. “I didn’t realize it was that serious.”

She let out a mirthless laugh, dropping her gaze to the table. “Serious doesn’t even begin to cover it,” she muttered. After a pause, she spoke again. “Sometimes I still feel like they’re following me around. Breathing down my neck everywhere I go.”

“Is that why you’re hiding out here?” I attempted a light tone, playing it off as a joke, but the memory of her panicked state the other night made my chest clench.

“Partially,” Maxine admitted, her voice lowering as though she feared being overheard. “I’m almost certain someone is… watching me.”

I reached for my glass, taking a sip just to fill the silence. My throat felt tight. My guilt swelled, nearly choking me. Because, in truth, it very well could be her family following her around. It could be them , keeping an eye on her , making sure I did my part.

Maxine swallowed hard, her fingers gripping the edge of the table. “I can’t go back, Leah,” she said, eyes glimmering under the dim lantern light. “I’d lose myself. I’d lose everything I’ve worked for here. I’d be–”

“Trapped,” I whispered, reaching across the table to gently rest my hand atop hers.

A part of me wanted to promise I’d never let that happen, but the knife of deception cut both ways and the cruel irony of my actual mission made the words stick in my throat.

Instead, I just repeated, “I’m so sorry. ”

Maxine looked at me then, a fragile smile ghosting her lips. “You don’t have to apologize. You’ve done so much for me. Letting me crash here, letting me… just be .” Her voice wavered. “I can’t thank you enough.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. How could I explain the swirl of emotions – my old feelings for her reigniting, the guilt of betraying her trust, the confusion over wanting to protect her but also abiding by a promise that threatened everything she cherished?

It was an impossible situation, and she was looking at me with those big brown eyes that made me want to give her the world.

“Well, you don’t have to go anywhere right now,” I said quietly, and despite my deception, I meant every word. “This is your home too, for as long as you want it.”

A slight breeze hushed gently over the harbor, rustling my hair, and I closed my eyes. “I don’t think I’ve eaten that well since I left my grandfather’s house. I must say, you guys are neck-and-neck in the cook-off.”

Maxine and I had finished stacking plates and tidying up from dinner, and now we sat on the deck, shoulders barely a whisper apart. A steady rhythm of water against the hull filled the silence, punctuated only by the occasional cry of a distant gull.

With my chin on my knees and my evening dress hiked up, I cracked one eye open to peek at her. In the darkness, the lantern light softened into a faint glow, illuminating her pensive expression, her button nose.

She exhaled shakily when I tilted my head – a quiet invitation for her to say whatever it was she was bursting to say.

“Leah,” she began, her voice quiet, so quiet I almost lost it to the gentle breeze. Her gaze locked on a distant point across the water. “I wish I could explain everything… but I can’t. At least, not yet.”

She turned to me, eyes shimmering in the faint light. “I – I had my reasons for leaving the way I did.”

My heart thumped hard against my ribs. There was a time, not so long ago, when I might have pressed her for every detail, and demanded an explanation for the hurt she’d caused.

But sitting here, I was no longer sure I wanted to force the truth from her.

Instead, I craved connection, whatever fragments she could offer.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” she whispered, the words trembling with sincerity. “Back then, I really thought it was for the best. If I stayed, I would have… I would have–”

Her voice caught, and I watched her throat move in a hard swallow.

“I would have ruined everything. My family would have ruined everything,” she finally managed. “I was scared, and confused, and I wanted so much to tell you that I lov–” A shaky breath left her lips, and she trailed off, unable to form the word .

But I could hear it reverberating in the silence between us.

My breath seized, and for a moment, all I could do was stare at her, my pounding heart stuttering to a stop.

She loved me?

Back then, when we were kids and… maybe now.

And she wasn’t alone. Somewhere along the way I had realized that I wasn’t just falling for the memory of who Maxine had been years ago. I was falling for her now – the complicated, guarded, insatiable woman sitting next to me, who was very quickly turning pink at her almost-confession.

Quite quickly, I came to a decision. And slowly, so slowly it felt like wading through a dream, I leaned in.

I didn’t ask for permission, didn’t dare breathe too loudly in case I shattered the moment. I just leaned closer. Our eyes locked, and I leaned closer and closer. Closer, until my lips brushed against hers.

It was a whisper of a kiss, soft, barely there. Gentle and questioning.

When I pulled away, my heart hammered in my chest, a potent concoction of exhilaration and fear rocketing through my veins. Maxine looked momentarily stunned, her cheeks flooding with color even in the dim light.

For a second, neither of us spoke, but a tremor of anticipation lingered, lacing the air around us like a live wire. I wondered if I’d pushed too far, if I’d misread the signals. But all I saw in Maxine’s eyes was a stunned sort of wonder that mirrored my own.

I cleared my throat, tearing my gaze away, focusing instead on the stars overhead. The city lights glowed at the edges of my vision, but all I could concentrate on was the wild beat of my pulse.

“You can… share the bed with me tonight, if you want,” I said softly, my words calm despite the nerves coiling inside me. “It’s – there’s plenty of room.”

Maxine’s eyes widened.

“Just–” I stood before she could speak, anxiety clawing at me, and turned to head inside. “Just, think about it.”

I forced myself to breathe, and to believe that maybe, just maybe, she’d follow.