Page 31 of Hearts on the Line (The Maverick Key #1)

Maddie

A cool breeze carries the subtle sweetness of wilting flowers. We stand at the edge of the crowd gathered beneath the sprawling oak tree. We’re here to say goodbye to Josh Lanning.

My fingers fidget against each other as my gaze sweeps over the gathered faces.

Josh’s mother stands closest to the casket, her shoulders trembling under the weight of her grief.

Her husband’s arms are the only things supporting her.

Beside them, Josh’s younger sister clutches a single white rose, her knuckles pale against the stem. She doesn’t cry. I weep for her.

To my right, Scott stands rigid. His broad shoulders slack with grief. His hazel eyes remain fixed on the casket, his jaw clenched. There’s turmoil simmering beneath his calm exterior. It’s been a few days since the storm ended. He hasn’t said much since the rescue.

The minister’s reverent voice cuts through the breeze.

“Today, we honor and remember Josh Lanning.” He turns his attention to each family member.

“A man whose passion for the sea is cherished by those who loved him. He courageously embraced its beauty and challenges, inspiring those who knew him. He was a son, a brother, and a friend, and he will be deeply missed.”

Soft sobs rise from Josh’s family, slicing through the minister’s words. I swallow hard, my chest tightening as guilt and sorrow twist together within me. Training with Wes without telling Scott feels hypocritical. I’m risking more than my own safety.

Josh’s sister steps forward and places her white rose on the casket. Her voice trembles as she speaks. I have to strain to hear her. “Josh loved the ocean. It meant freedom and passion to him. He always said it was where he felt the most alive. We’ll keep that part of him with us forever.”

Her words carry through the air, leaving a deep ache in their wake. I clench my hands tighter. My eyes flick to Wes.

He stares near the casket, his expression unreadable. There’s tension in his face, and his posture is rigid. Defiant. He’s unaccustomed to failure. He believed he could save Josh. It doesn’t matter to him that Josh was already dead when he found him.

After the service ends, people step forward to pay their respects.

Scott moves ahead of me, resting his hand on the polished wood of the casket.

His lips move, but whatever he says is meant for Josh alone.

When he returns, his eyes meet mine, and I reach for his hand, intertwining my fingers with his.

As we linger, a man approaches the Lanning family.

He carries himself with grace, extending a firm handshake to Josh’s parents and sharing a few kind words with his sister.

He seems familiar, though I can’t quite place him.

His face softens when he turns and spots Scott, and he walks toward us with determination.

“Scott,” the man says warmly, his voice filled with affection. “It’s good to see you, son.” Scott straightens up, his expression softening. “Charles.” He takes the older man’s outstretched hand, and they shake.

This must be Charles Hayes, Adeline’s father. I hadn’t met him before. He’s not what I expected. He looks very young for his fifty-five years. But he’s sad. His eyes suggest he has experienced his share of tragedies.

Mr. Hayes holds onto Scott’s hand. “You’ve done right by Adeline, by all of us. I’m happy to see you finding your way forward.”

Scott’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot.”

Mr. Hayes’s gaze shifts to me, and his expression softens further. “You must be Maddie. I’ve heard a lot about you. Nathan was a good man.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hayes.”

He smiles at me and chats with Scott for a few minutes longer before turning to leave. “Take care of each other.” He pats Scott on the shoulder before stepping away to greet someone else.

Scott stares after him for a moment, his jaw working silently. When he turns back to me, there’s a flicker of peace in his eyes. “He’s a good man.”

I tighten my grip on his hand. “You, okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes drop to the ground, and he exhales slowly. “I’m getting there.”

Scott and I linger at the cemetery’s edge, the last mourners drifting away.

“I hate this.”

I squeeze his hand.

His eyes turn to me, dark with guilt and frustration. “I keep thinking about Josh’s family.”

“You brought them closure.” I force some confidence into my voice. “That matters more than you think.”

His gaze drops. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

We head back to the inn along the sandy path. Scott’s hand remains clasped in mine, providing comfort to us both. The ocean continues its steady and unyielding course, a reminder to us of its beauty and its capacity to take.

The streets are alive with the energy of the 45th Annual Maverick Key Seafood Festival.

Booths line the beachside road, and colorful banners and string lights sway in the breeze.

Tables overflow with conch fritters, shrimp tacos, and other island specialties.

My stomach rumbles. This is our first date since the funeral.

I’ve been on the island for almost two months and life has settled into a comfortable routine.

The police haven’t found out who broke into my cottage, but there haven’t been any other incidents since we saw the man through the window at the inn.

Scott and I haven’t been able to spend much time together since the funeral because of his schedule with the dives.

And I’ve been diving nearly every other day with Wes.

A knot of guilt twists in my stomach. I know it’s wrong. But I’m too afraid to tell him.

Scott snaps me out of my thoughts, holding my hand and pulling me close. He nuzzles his face into my neck. His hazel eyes are beautiful as they glimmer in the sunlight. He points at a booth where a man handles a tray of oysters, a crowd gathering to watch.

“Let’s see if we can win.” He points to the World’s Spiciest Oyster Challenge sign .

I wrinkle my nose. “Hard pass. I’d rather enjoy my food than set my mouth on fire.”

Scott leans in closer so I can hear him over the noise. “Smart move. Me, though? I might give it a try later. Setting my mouth on fire sounds kind of fun.”

“You’re braver than me,” I tease, my shoulder brushing against his as we make our way to a booth selling fresh crab cakes.

Scott takes my order slip to the vendor, returning with a perfectly golden crab cake wrapped in paper. “Try this. It’s the best on the island.”

The first bite explodes with flavor, and my eyes widen in surprise. “Oh my God. You weren’t kidding. This is incredible.”

“Told you.”

We wander deeper into the festival, stopping at a game booth where stuffed animals hang in neat rows, the brightly colored prizes beckoning challengers. A booming voice calls out from behind the counter. “Step right up. Knock all of them down and win a prize for the lady.”

Scott glances at me with a raised brow. “Think I’ve got what it takes?”

I cross my arms, pretending to size him up. “I don’t know. Those bottles look pretty tough.”

With determination, Scott hands the vendor a few dollars and picks up a softball. His first throw clips the pyramid’s edge, making the bottles wobble but not fall. I stifle a laugh as Scott rubs the back of his neck.

“All right, now I’m serious. Watch this.” He narrows his eyes at the target. On this throw, all the bottles crash to the ground in one clean hit.

I cheer when the vendor hands Scott a large plush octopus. “For the lucky lady.”

Scott turns to me, his triumphant smile brighter than the festival lights. “For you. An octopus. Never go diving without it.”

I take the stuffed toy, laughing. “I’ll cherish it forever.”

Further down, we stop at a photo booth decked out with silly props. Scott grabs a pirate hat and a plastic sword while I put on oversized sunglasses.

“I look ridiculous.” I adjust the enormous glasses as Scott strikes a swashbuckling pose beside me.

“Ridiculously cute,” he quips, pulling me into the frame as the camera clicks.

A moment later, the photo strip pops out with the captured images: Scott’s exaggerated pirate scowl and my mid-laugh expression, the sunglasses hang lopsided across my face.

“I’m framing this.” He tucks the strip into his back pocket.

As the sun dips lower, painting the sky with soft oranges and pinks, we find a spot near the stage where a local band plays lively island music.

Couples dance barefoot in the sand, their soft voices carried on the breeze.

The festive energy is infectious. Scott and I sway to the music, our shoulders brushing as we hold each other close.

I catch myself stealing glances at him, drawn to his smile, which reaches his eyes.

“You’ve got some sand in your hair.” He brushes a strand of my hair away.

Warmth rises in my cheeks. “A hazard of dancing on the beach.”

His hand lingers, tucking the strand behind my ear and rubbing his thumb across my cheek. The tenderness of the gesture makes my breath hitch.

As the night wears on, we wander toward the festival’s quieter edge. The noise from the crowd is replaced by the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. The scent of the sea wraps around us.

Scott strides ahead with his hands in his pockets. “Did you have a good time?”

I hug the stuffed octopus to my chest. “Amazing.”

Scott’s gaze drops before meeting mine again. “I enjoy seeing you like this. Happy.”

My heart skips a beat.

The festival lights twinkle in the distance like stars.

I break the silence. “Will you show me where you live?”

Scott blinks. “I haven’t taken you to my place yet?”

“You know so much about me already. I want to know more about you.”

His lips curve into a slow smile, and he gestures toward the parking lot. “All right. Let’s go.”

I walk with him, when suddenly he turns and picks me up and carries me the rest of the way to his truck. Laughing, I feel as light as a feather when he puts me down on the leather seat and kisses me with all he has.

“I can’t wait to make you mine.”