Page 26 of September’s Tide (Island Tales #2)

Relief hit like a tidal wave, stealing his breath.

“Really?” David asked, his voice cracking. “You mean that?”

Taylor gave him a deadpan look. “No, I’m lying.

It’s dreadful. Utter rubbish.” But then his face cracked open again with that same blinding grin.

“David, it’s fantastic . I can’t believe how much you got down.

It’s rich, it’s real, and as for the characters?

I want to live in that story. I didn’t want to stop reading. ”

David laughed, a real, bright, unguarded laugh, and before he could think better of it, he grabbed Taylor, lifted him off his feet, and spun him in a full circle. Taylor yelped and clung to him, laughing with delight.

When David finally set him down, slightly breathless and thoroughly giddy, he cleared his throat. “Right. Before we start performing musical numbers on the deck, let’s go inside.”

They stepped into the kitchen, and Taylor headed straight for the coffee machine, still grinning. “Mind if I put coffee on?”

“Help yourself,” David said, waving vaguely in the direction of the cabinet where he kept the coffee. His thoughts were tumbling over each other, half caught up in the writing, half anchored to Taylor’s reaction. The rush hadn’t faded. If anything, it had deepened.

He could hardly wait to get back to the story.

“I’m not stupid, you know.” Taylor’s voice floated across the kitchen.

David turned. “Excuse me?”

Taylor finished loading the coffee machine. “Chris is me, isn’t he? And Logan’s you.”

David froze. “Jesus. Is it that obvious?”

Taylor chuckled softly. “Only to someone who knows us.” He glanced over his shoulder with an almost shy gaze. He smiled. “I’m flattered. Truly.”

David let out a long breath. Good. That was very good.

For a moment, the only sound in the place was the gurgle of the coffee machine. Taylor leaned against the countertop, arms folded, looking pleased. Then he walked over to the sofa and sank into it.

David hesitated for all of two seconds before joining him.

“There’s something I don’t get,” Taylor said in an earnest tone. “You’re published, right? You’ve got books out there already. Okay, so you haven’t said how many, only that you were just starting out. So why does this one matter so much?”

David looked at him for a long moment.

Oh fuck .

His heart pounded, and his hands felt like ice.

“Because this isn’t what I usually write.”

Taylor blinked. “Go on.”

“It’s about as far from my usual stuff as you can get.” David got up, crossed to his laptop bag, and pulled out a paperback. He hesitated briefly before bringing it over and placing it in Taylor’s hands.

He couldn’t hide the truth a moment longer.

Taylor looked at the cover, then at David, then back again, his brow furrowed, lips parted in confusion. And then David saw it hit.

Taylor widened his eyes and took a sharp intake of breath. He raised his chin and looked David in the eye.

“You… You’re James Blanchette?”

David nodded slowly, unable to look away from Taylor’s face, noting the flicker of recognition, then surprise, and finally something quieter.

Something heavier.

Taylor’s mouth opened again, but no sound came at first. His fingers traced the edges of the book cover as though it might give him answers. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.

“James Blanchette,” he repeated.

David gave another tentative nod.

Taylor was quiet for several long seconds. “And you weren’t going to tell me?”

David winced. “I was. I just… didn’t know when. Or how.”

Taylor didn’t look angry, but his brows drew together, giving him a thoughtful, wary expression. “I guess I just don’t get why it was a secret. I mean, you told me you were a writer.”

“I did,” David said quickly. “I just didn’t tell you everything. ”

Taylor looked at him then, steady and unreadable. “And that felt... safer?”

David exhaled slowly. “Honestly? Yes.” He looked down at his hands, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s not easy to separate the two halves of myself—David Hannon and James Blanchette. People treat me differently when they know. Sometimes that’s good. Sometimes it really, really isn’t.”

Taylor was still quiet, but David could see the wheels turning.

“You remember I told you about Clark?” David ventured.

Taylor nodded. “He wasn’t with me for me , not really.

He was with James Blanchette, the lifestyle, the name.

And I didn’t even realize until after we ended.

Turns out, my friends had heard whispers.

They never told me, however. They thought I’d figure it out eventually.

” David sighed. “That whole episode left a mark. So when I met you, I wanted to keep things simple. Just me. Just David.”

Taylor stared down at the book again, then placed it gently on the table.

“I get it,” he said finally. His voice was quiet but steady. “I really do. That makes sense.”

David blinked. “You’re not angry?”

Taylor expelled a soft breath. “No. I mean, I wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me sooner, but I understand why you didn’t.

And if I were in your shoes, maybe I’d have done the same.

” He swallowed. “It still kind of sucks, though, as they say on your side of the pond.” Then he gave a half smile, and that was like sunlight breaking through cloud.

“Yeah, it does,” David agreed.

Taylor leaned back against the cushions, his arms loosely folded, more thoughtful than withdrawn. “It also makes me wonder what else I don’t know about you.”

David opened his mouth, then closed it again. It was a fair point.

“I want you to know everything,” he said after a moment. “I really do. I just need to work on not leading with fear.”

Taylor squared his shoulders. “Okay. That’s a start.”

There was a beat of silence between them, a shifting of energy, not broken but paused.

Then Taylor stood up and stretched. “I’m gonna take a walk. I need to clear my head.”

David rose instinctively. “Should I?—”

“I’ll be back,” Taylor said, not unkindly. “I need a little time, okay? To let it settle.”

David nodded, his throat tight. “Of course.”

Taylor made his way to the kitchen door, then turned back. “By the way... What you wrote this morning? I loved the story.”

A flicker of warmth stirred in David’s chest. “Thank you.”

Taylor gave another small smile, then slipped outside, pulling the door closed behind him.

David stayed standing for a long while, watching Taylor walk down the path, his hoodie tugged close around him. He didn’t look back.

But he hadn’t slammed the door, either.

It wasn’t the end. But it was a moment, a space. And David would wait for it to shift. He’d give Taylor the honesty he should’ve led with.

This time, no omissions. Nothing but the truth.