Page 39 of Fire Island (Fire Island #2)

Thirty-Seven

EVIE

E m’s throat works as I cross the sand and fall into his arms. I swear to god, this man is my brother from another mother. I know now why Cal is so protective of Em’s place in his life. The man is one hell of a guy, and my heart aches with the knowledge Iris may never?—

“Hell, you scared us, Miss Evie.” His hug tightens around me.

I wrap my arms around his bulky frame and sag against the rock we call Emmett.

With a rough, playful hand, he messes up my already filthy, tangled hair. “Before McCreary takes me out, you got to know how fucking brave you are. Iris is going to be so damn pumped over this. She’ll be talking about it for weeks.”

I chuckle, but it disintegrates into a breathy sob.

His hand runs over my hair. “You’re okay.”

Yes, yes, I am.

Timothy is in custody on the Coast Guard boat. Thorin is...

Sleepin’ with the fishes.

I chuckle a laugh into Em’s chest.

A throat clears behind me, and I turn back to find Cal.

“I’m taking her home, Em. The police can come take our statements or whatever tomorrow.”

“I’ll call it in. The crew will secure the hut.” He slaps Cal on the shoulder and gives Reese a nod as he walks back toward the small inflatable powerboat he made shore with. “Be checking in tomorrow. Iris won’t let me come alone.”

Cal waves him off, and Reese picks his way along the rocky ledge toward Firefly. Taking my hand, Cal leads me back toward the boat. Once over the jagged, slippery rocks, I step up Firefly, never more grateful for her waiting here for us than now.

“Watch your step, baby girl,” Cal says, guiding me into the boat.

Reese leans on the doorframe to the cabin, his arms crossed as he watches us board. Of course he does. Apparently, the McCrearys’ comfort zone is leaning against a doorframe. His eyebrow raises with the name Cal uses for me. “We’re going to need to change that name.”

Cal looks at his son. “Would you prefer mom?”

I freeze, laughter flying upward and crashing into my pursed lips.

“Urgh, no... Whatever.” He rolls off the doorframe and drops onto the bench seat.

“Not one syllable, remember?” Cal warns.

“ Fine , whatever.”

“Then, my son,” Cal says, ruffling his hair as he walks past and to the console. “I’ll call my wife whatever the hell I choose to.”

My wife.

My focus alternates between father and son. Reese slouches in the chair, acting more like a moody teenager than the young twentysomething he is.

Good lord, the McCreary words are sinking their hooks in early.

I smile at the two of them.

Never before have I been so exhausted and so damn happy all in the length of one heartbeat.

The lighthouse comes into view mere minutes later.

Home.

Although, to be fair, Callum is my home. And he always will be.

He was willing to die for me.

From the day I stepped foot on this island, my grumpy, stoic, kindhearted lighthouse keeper’s been taking care of me. Livvy sent me here to heal. I didn’t only do that, I came full circle. I reconnected my heart and soul in the most magnificent reunion ever.

Through a sunset in a dead-engine floating boat, through a storm, through hunting and gathering, through a festival, through losing us to retrograde amnesia, through rerouting my career, through people coming back from the dead...

Now, after the rise and fall of the one thing, the one man, who haunted me for years, I am free.

Happy.

Free.

Home.

“...sweet home, baby,” a low rasp sinks by my ear. I find myself wrapped in warm arms, huddled with my back against his chest, the boat stationary by the jetty. I look up to find Reese already almost to the lighthouse.

I spin in Cal’s embrace and lean back on the console, resting a hand over his heart. “This right here is my home.”

His jaw feathers. “Then I will endeavor to outlive mine.” His palm presses over my own heart. “So you never spend another day alone or scared ever again.”

“That’s a long, long life, old man.”

He smiles, cupping my face with both hands, and breathes, “Good.”

Iris practically runs from the jetty, flying at me with red hair trailing behind her like some fantasy film. “Heavens above, Evie, thank the stars.” She crashes into me, arms holding me tight. Em strolls up the jetty behind her, a content smile on his handsome face.

Iris unravels her hold on me, spinning to my right. “And you!” She pins Cal with a finger pushed into his chest. “You daft bastard. Don’t you ever do that again.”

Fire fills her eyes. But despite her fluster of an entrance, she crashes into his embrace, muttering curses.

Cal swallows. “Sorry, Irry. But I’m going to protect my family the only way I know how, and it was the best choice at the time.”

Emotion nails a burn behind my eyes, and I clench my jaw tight to stave off the huffy sob trying to squeeze its way out. Iris pushes away and turns back to Em. I scrunch my face up and lean into Cal.

“What did the police say?” Em asks.

“Took our statements, including Reese’s. They collected the body yesterday before dark. Since it was self-defense, it seems like an open-and-shut case.”

“We also provided a statement. Turns out both guys have a rap sheet. The dead guy’s is a mile long and in multiple jurisdictions.”

Em’s looking at me now. Like this information is what I need.

But my closure was sealed the moment I opened Thorin’s artery.

Urgh, I should probably see someone about that... Who knows how it might come back to bite me later on if I don’t.

“I could use a beer,” Iris says with a sigh. “It’s been one hell of a few months.”

Cal chuckles. “Make that two.”

“Three,” Em adds.

“Think I’ll take a bottle of wine,” I drawl. Laughter drifts over the island as we head for the house.

Reese mills about in the shack. When we all head for the fire pit, the chatter flowing, he walks outside.

“Sit, nephew of mine.” Iris pats the chair by her.

Reese leans on the shack but studies each of us in turn. “Nah, I’m good. Not into small talk when it’s with the olds.”

Iris turns in her seat, her eyes narrowing. “Who you calling old, you dunderheid?”

Reese tries to flatten a smile and fails. His dark hair flops over his face, and he brushes it back. In this violet light that’s fast turning dark, I’m gifted a momentary glance of Callum McCreary twenty years ago.

And he was stunning.

With that image safely stored away, I wedge the cork out of a new bottle of red and let the dark maroon liquid glug into the glass balancing precariously on my Adirondack chair.

Iris raises her beer. “To family. To the people we love, and to loving them back, hard. To the ones who have been there since forever and the ones who found us when it was time.” She looks at me, then back to Reese, raising her drink.

Reese chuckles, still leaning on the shack, picking at a stalk of grass.

“To family,” Em says, tapping the neck of his bottle to hers.

“To family,” I say around the stone in my throat. Iris clinks her beer to my glass.

Every gaze settles on Cal. He studies all of us in turn. Like father, like son. His attention homes in on me as he lifts his beer. “To ending up right where you’re meant to be.”

I smile.

The sentiment warms my heart. I’m right where I need to be. This is my home.

He is my home.

I have absolutely no intention of ever wandering so far I lose my way back.

Besides, if I wander, he will wander with me.

Our one nonnegotiable promise neither of us could break, even if we tried?—

“Yeah, so I’m out of here.” Reese rolls off the shack and heads into the house, no doubt to raid the fridge again. The fridge door opens, and Cal snaps his head up, gaze shooting at the kitchen window. “Don’t you waste that hard-earned food, boy!”

I chuckle. Some things never change.

A constant, like the stars or the horizon. Always there. Stoic and permanent, like our old lighthouse. Like the McCreary legacy on Fire Island. And, if I have anything to do with it, the legacy will live on for decades after us.

“Damn hollow legs, that lad,” Cal grumbles, leaning back in his chair, sipping his beer. I rise from the chair and drop to his lap, wine in hand. “What would you fill your days with if you didn’t have us to take care of, fear milis?”

The delight lighting Iris’s face reminds me she shares our language, too.

Without a word, she sips her beer, glancing at Emmett.

I wonder how long it will take until the elegant language of her heritage starts to slip out around Em the way Cal’s did around me. When she’s going to let her wall down, brave the particular storm that is her brother, and let the floodgates open on what torturously dangles between her and Em.

Lord knows they have waited long enough.