Page 80 of Until the Storm Breaks

I nod. “Plus, free dinner at the best restaurant in town. Might as well eat well while my world crumbles.”

“There’s my practical girl,” he says, though I can tell he’s forcing the lightness.

We stand there in the morning light, holding each other, not talking about how in a few weeks he’s supposed to leave for Seattle. Not talking about what we are to each other beyond this moment.

“We should eat something,” he finally says. “Before we face my brothers and their guilt tonight.”

“Millie’s?” I suggest hopefully. “I need hash browns for emotional fortification.”

“Hash browns as armor?”

“Hash browns as a life philosophy,” I correct, already moving toward the bedroom to get dressed.

“Let me just...” He gestures at his lack of shirt.

“I don’t know, I kind of like this look,” I say, letting my eyes travel down his chest deliberately, watching the way his breathing changes. “Very Dark River chic. Very ‘I just rolled out of bed looking perfect.’”

“Pretty sure Millie has a shirt requirement,” he says, but he’s smiling now, real and warm, moving closer to me.

“Her loss.” I take a step back, then another, maintaining eye contact. “Though maybe it’s for the best. Don’t want to cause a riot among the morning coffee crowd.”

“The morning coffee crowd is mostly fishermen over sixty.”

“Exactly. Their hearts can’t take it.”

He laughs, shaking his head, and the sound fills the kitchen, chasing away the heaviness from moments before.

Twenty minutes later, we’re in his truck heading to town, both properly dressed, his hand finding mine over the console like it belongs there. His thumb traces circles on my palm, and I try not to think about how natural this feels, how right.

“What are we going to tell them tonight?” I ask as we passthe harbor, boats bobbing in the morning light. “Theo and Alex. About us.”

“The truth,” Calvin says simply. “That we’re together.”

“Are we?” The question slips out before I can stop it. “I mean, I know we are now, but...” I trail off, unable to finish the thought.But you’re leaving. But this has an expiration date. But I’m already in too deep.

“Maren.” He glances at me, then back at the road, his hand finding mine. “We are. And we’ll figure out how to make it work. We should talk about that actually. Get the details worked out.”

“I know,” I say quickly, my chest tightening. “After we deal with the cabin situation and everything else.”

“Or we could talk about it now?” he suggests, pulling into the parking spot but not turning off the engine.

“I’m not ready,” I admit, looking out the window at the familiar storefront, the faded awning, the hand-painted sign that’s been there since before I was born. “I’m not ready to talk about you leaving or me moving or any of it. Can we just... a little bit longer? Before reality comes crashing in?”

He turns off the engine, shifts to face me fully. “Maren?—”

“Please,” I interrupt, hating how small my voice sounds. “Just... let me pretend a little longer. That this is normal. That we’re just a couple getting breakfast on a Tuesday morning.”

He brings our joined hands to his lips, kisses my knuckles with a tenderness that makes my eyes burn. “We can have whatever you want.”

“I want hash browns,” I say, deflecting. “And bacon. And maybe pancakes.”

“Emotional eating. I approve.” His voice gets deeper, more serious. “Whatever happens tonight, whatever they say about the cabins or the timeline or any of it—we’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

“Okay,” I agree, even though I’m not sure how we figure outhim being in Seattle and me being here. Even though I’m not sure what together means when everything’s about to change.

But when he looks at me like that, steady and sure, I can almost believe we’ll find a way.

That evening, the drive to Harbor & Ash feels both too long and too short. Calvin’s hand rests on my thigh, thumb tracing absent circles through my jeans, and I can feel the tension radiating off him despite his calm expression. His jaw is doing that thing where he’s clenching without realizing it. Every few minutes, he adjusts the rearview mirror that doesn’t need adjusting.