It was a foolish hope; even she knew that. But without it, she had to admit defeat, and now—especially now that she’d seen him again—she wasn’t ready to do that.

“Morning,” she said.

She wouldn’t tell him how she’d stopped by her parents’ cottage last night, full of rage. She wouldn’t tell him they weren’t there, but she’d left three messages and two texts for her mother to call her back. And she especially wouldn’t tell him that so far, in spite of the emergent tone of said messages, she’d received nothing but silence from JoEllen Chambers. Because then he would know exactly where she stood with her own mother—somewhere in the far-off distance. And that was a tiny bit too personal for 5 a.m.

“I brought you some coffee.” She held up a thermos as she reached the edge of the dock.

He held up a disposable cup. “I brought you some coffee.”

She smiled. She couldn’t help it. He had to think of her to buy her coffee. That was progress, right?

“Then we should be set for the whole morning.”

She stared at the boat, the sound of the water lapping against it echoing in her ear. She stared at it until the noise of the ocean spiked her heart rate and she struggled to find a breath.

“Here, let me help you in.”

Cody had saved her. He was safe. He knew what he was doing. She was being ridiculous—a baby, really. She wasn’t afraid of water. She never had been. Even after Daniel’s accident, she’d still gone swimming in the ocean. Sometimes without a life vest.

One little brush with death wouldn’t change that. Was there such a thing as a “little” brush with death?

She glanced down at his outstretched hand. He must’ve mistaken her hesitation for an unwillingness to touch him because he moved it away.

“Sorry,” she said, reaching toward him.

He took her by the elbow and helped her in. Under her feet, the boat shifted, and she struggled to steady herself. She fell forward into his thick, hard chest, noticing he didn’t even move.

“You okay?”

She looked up at him and nodded. Were her cheeks flushed? She sure felt like they were. She stepped back and cleared her throat.

“I’m sure you’ve done this before,” he said.

“Yeah.” She moved gingerly toward the center of the boat. “I mean, usually my dad or Eric handled most of the hard work.”

He didn’t respond.

Why did she say that? It wasn’t even exactly true. Eric had always found ways to avoid being the one to man the sails.

Cody cleared his throat. “But you at least know the parts of the boat,” he said. “I mean, if I tell you to go to the stern, you know where to go, right?”