Page 16 of September’s Tide (Island Tales #2)

Chapter Eleven

David edged as close to the cliff as he dared, his hands in his pockets, scanning the beach far below.

The tide was out, revealing a broad stretch of orange-hued sand bordered by rust-toned shingle and chalky outcroppings.

The collapsed section of cliff at the base had long since softened into the landscape, covered now with tufts of grass and brambles.

From up here, it looked wild and untouched, like something out of a painting.

He followed the faint trace of an old path zigzagging through the undergrowth, noting the broken stone and the remains of worn steps.

“Can we get down there?” he asked, glancing sideways at Taylor. The place was breathtaking, the kind of scene David would happily spend hours photographing—or, in another life, describing on the page.

Taylor shook his head, his expression regretful. “There used to be some old wooden steps partway down, but they collapsed a couple of years ago. No one’s bothered replacing them. Too dangerous now without them.”

David let out a quiet sigh. “What a shame. It’s beautiful.” He squinted at the narrow gorge where the land split. “So… Whale Chine? I’ve gotta ask—what’s a ‘chine,’ anyway? Sounds like something out of a pirate novel.”

Taylor chuckled. “That’s because it is—well, sort of. A chine is where water has carved a ravine through the cliffs, down to the sea. They’re pretty common on this part of the coast.” He tipped his head toward a nearby sign. “Come here—I’ll show you.”

David followed him a few steps farther along the trail, where the land gave way to a deep cleft in the earth.

He peered over the edge and drew in a sharp breath.

The view was striking: jagged rock faces, their striated layers catching the afternoon light, descending sharply into shadow.

The opposite cliff was dotted with rabbit holes, and sure enough, a few of the creatures were lounging in the sun, nibbling at tufts of grass without a care in the world.

He listened. A soft, trickling sound reached his ears, barely audible over the distant sigh of the surf.

“Is that the stream?”

Taylor nodded. “Still flows through the chine and into the sea. Just a trickle most days, but it’s what made all this, over time.”

A quiet awe settled over David. It was humbling, the idea of something so small reshaping something so vast.

Taylor’s idea to play tour guide had turned out to be a brilliant one. They’d spent the day weaving through winding roads barely wide enough for two cars, pulling over whenever the view demanded it. David had taken enough photos to fill a whole memory card.

Lunch had been at a pub in a sleepy village with a name that sounded made-up: Shorwell.

They’d eaten in the beer garden, watching trout drift lazily in the stream that cut through it.

David had been fascinated, pointing them out like a kid, until Taylor informed him they were rainbow trout, native to the island’s freshwater. That had only delighted him more.

Now, the sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows over the cliffs.

“What’s next, tour guide?” David asked, offering Taylor a teasing smile.

Taylor rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. “Actually, I was thinking we might call it a day. But I did have a plan. I pulled some trout from the freezer this morning.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Trout?”

“Yeah. I was thinking we could head back to the beach in the cove, and cook them over a fire. Maybe bake some potatoes. Then watch the stars come out.”

David felt a flicker of something warm in his chest. “That sounds perfect.”

He meant it. There was a stillness to the evenings here that he hadn’t experienced in years: no sirens, no glare of city lights, just wind and water and stars.

Taylor seemed pleased. “We can use one of those disposable barbecues, then build a proper fire after. I’ve got towels we can lie on. It’s usually quiet this time of night, so it’ll be just us and the waves.”

David tried not to stare at him, but it was hopeless. That smile. The way he lit up when he talked about this place.

“Then let’s go,” he said softly. “We’ll cook, and talk.”

Not that they hadn’t already talked a great deal. David had given Taylor just enough about New York to keep things feeling honest: his neighbourhood, his favorite bagel shop, stories about the crowds in Central Park. Taylor soaked it up, asking questions with wide-eyed interest.

And in return, David had listened to tales of small-town life: summer parades and village fêtes, the sort of things David had only ever read about. Taylor’s love for the island was obvious, even as he confessed to dreaming of someday living somewhere busier, louder, faster.

David hadn’t said much about his own dreams.

And he certainly hadn’t mentioned the books. Or the fact that Taylor had unknowingly quoted him last night, while talking about one of his favorite thrillers. David had smiled through it, his heart pounding, hoping the conversation would drift somewhere else.

Maybe one day I’ll tell him .

But not yet.

Not when things were still new and golden and full of potential.

Tonight, they’d cook fish and watch the stars. And for now, that was more than enough.

“So, what was it like growing up in New York?” Taylor asked, his voice low and easy, softened by the crackle of the fire.

They lay side by side on the sand, the remnants of their meal bundled into a plastic bag nearby, paper plates tucked in as an afterthought.

The air was cooling now, but the warmth from the earlier sun still lingered in the sand beneath them, seeping into their backs through the thick blanket Taylor had thought to bring.

Their dinner—trout with dill and sea salt, wrapped in foil and cooked over the coals—had been far better than anything David could have ordered in a restaurant.

The fish flaked apart with the lightest touch of a fork, delicate and full of flavour.

He was fast learning to appreciate the island’s abundance in ways that went well beyond scenery.

In the distance, a few windows glowed in the houses scattered around the cove, but otherwise the beach—and the night—belonged to them.

Taylor had built a small fire on the sand, and it burned steadily now, its amber light flickering over their skin, catching on the silken sheen of Taylor’s hair, painting it even more gold.

David lay on his back, his arms folded beneath his head, his gaze fixed on the stars overhead. “Hmm?”

“Growing up in New York…. What was it like?”

“Kinda lonely,” he said after a moment’s thought.

“Dad left when I was only a kid, and Mom never remarried. It was just the two of us.” There had been other kids on the block, sure, but his mother had been protective, maybe even rigidly so.

“She wanted me to go to college. That was her dream. So she kept me close, always studying, always focused.”

“What did you study?”

“English,” David replied. “Words always made sense to me. I liked how they fit together, how you could use them to shape an entire world.” A smile ghosted across his lips.

“I went into teaching after I graduated. Thought I’d help shape the next great American novelist.” He laughed softly, shaking his head at the memory of his own earnestness.

Taylor snorted. “Let me guess. Things didn’t quite go as planned?”

David made a rueful noise. “More like ran headlong into reality. Most of the kids didn’t care. Every now and then I’d get one who really listened, really wanted to learn, but they were few and far between. And the rest of the time? Bureaucracy. Metrics. Parents. Pressure. It wore me down.”

Taylor reached out and brushed his fingers along David’s forearm. His touch was light but grounding. “If it helps,” he said quietly, “teachers here go through the same thing.”

David turned his head toward him, catching the soft glow of firelight on Taylor’s cheek. His expression was sincere. David reached for his hand and gave it a gentle pat.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” he murmured. “But you’d think people would treat teachers like we matter. We literally hold the country’s future in our hands.”

Taylor blinked. “That’s a good way of putting it.” He grinned. “You really do have a way with words. I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up famous one day.”

David bit back a laugh. If you only knew.

“And you left teaching to write?” Taylor asked, something like awe in his voice. “That must’ve taken guts. I don’t know if I could walk away from everything like that.”

David squeezed his hand. “And starting your own business didn’t take guts?” he countered. “You did what you had to do to build a life that makes you happy. That’s brave in my book.”

Taylor gave him a bashful smile, the kind that made David’s chest ache a little. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“Well, I do,” David said firmly. “You’ve carved out a life for yourself that lets you travel, do the things you love. And you get to live here.” He gestured wide, toward the dark sea and open sky. “I envy that more than you know.”

Taylor let out a long breath, his gaze drifting toward the waves. “I love it here,” he said softly. “Every time I travel, the hardest part is leaving that sound behind.”

David didn’t need to ask what he meant. The constant murmur of the sea had already embedded itself in his bones. “But you always get to come back to it. I mean, it’s always here, waiting.”

Taylor turned and kissed him, a brush of lips, soft and fleeting. It was warm and sweet, and David’s heart beat a little faster.

“Thank you,” Taylor whispered.

“For what?”

“For reminding me how lucky I am.”

David smiled, and it felt unguarded, real. “And I’m lucky just to be here with you. Even if it’s only for a little while.”

That thought hit him harder than he’d expected. September would end. The ferry would come. And he’d have to leave this—all of this—behind.

“Hey. Where’d you go?” Taylor’s voice cut gently through the tangle of his thoughts.

David blinked, then turned, cupping Taylor’s cheek with his palm.

His skin was warm from the fire, soft and smooth under his fingertips.

Taylor licked his lips—either due to nerves or expectation, David couldn’t tell—and David didn’t wait.

He leaned in and kissed him properly this time, slow and lingering.

His fingers threaded through Taylor’s wavy hair, and when Taylor’s tongue traced the seam of his lips, David parted for him with a low moan.

The weight of Taylor’s body followed, settling over him as they kissed. David groaned into it, the heat between them unmistakable. He could feel Taylor’s erection against his thigh, hard and insistent through denim. David thrust up gently, nothing urgent, but enough to make them both feel it.

Taylor gasped.

And just like that, they were on the edge of something they couldn’t take back without a lot of effort.

David’s self-control hung by a thread, but it held. Barely. He guided Taylor back down onto the towel, drawing a shaky breath.

“Taylor…” He brushed his thumb along Taylor’s jaw. “You drive me wild. But this isn’t the place, okay?”

Taylor’s eyes were dark with want, his chest rising and falling fast. “Yeah,” he managed. “You’re right.” He shifted to sit up beside him, pushing a hand through his hair. “And for the record? You turn me on too.” He exhaled and looked out toward the sea. “There was something I wanted to ask you.”

David sat up too, leaning back on his hands. “Shoot.”

“I already told you my family does lunch every Sunday. Whoever’s around shows up. I’m going next weekend… and I wondered if you’d come with me?”

David blinked. “You serious?”

Taylor nodded, his gaze locked on David’s. “It’s not formal or anything, just lunch. And Mum always cooks too much, so one more won’t make a difference.”

David chuckled. “Won’t your family think it’s weird? Some guy you’ve just met tagging along?”

“They won’t mind,” Taylor said with quiet confidence. “We’re always dragging someone along. And yeah, they all know I’m gay.” He bit his lip. “Well… I don’t know about Grandma. She probably knows, but we don’t talk about it.”

David liked the idea more than he expected. Taylor’s stories about his family had always painted them as warm, chaotic, and full of heart. He found himself wanting to meet them.

“All right,” he said finally. “Why not?”

Taylor’s grin lit up the night.

“There is one thing, though,” he added, mischief sparking in his eyes.

“Oh?” David arched his brows.

“Mum’s got a habit of asking if I’m seeing anyone. And… you’d be the first guy I’ve ever brought home.”

David groaned in mock dread. “You couldn’t have warned me sooner? Before I said yes?”

Taylor laughed. “You’ll be fine. You’re charming. Just watch out, though. She’ll probably dig out the baby albums.”

David smirked. “Oh, I’m counting on it. Payback’s a dish best served in front of your entire family.”

Taylor threw a hand towel at him, and David caught it, grinning as he tucked it behind his head.

This trip might turn out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

As they walked up from the beach, the stars glittered above them like dust scattered across black silk. Taylor kept close, his shoulder brushing against David’s now and then, casual and easy, but every touch still sparked like static under David’s skin.

He hadn’t planned to say anything, but when they reached the point where they would part ways, David stopped.

“Come back with me,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.