She shifted. She might pride herself on speaking her mind, but it made her nervous. Funny she hadn’t outgrown that. “You saved my life, and you might wish you could take it back, but there it is, you’re a hero. And I did something really awful to you a lot of years ago, and I wish I could take it back, but there it is, I’m a jerkshovel.”

“A what?”

“A jerkshovel. It’s like a really big jerk.”

“It’s nice to know you’re still making up words.”

“I can’t stand how weird things are between us,” she blurted. “I know we aren’t friends anymore, and that’s my fault. I know that on July 30, you’re not going to be standing at Brant Point lighthouse or sharing your golden birthday wish list with me. I know you blame me for your father’s death. And I’ll never be able to explain how much I regret that night. I was young and immature, and Nate was older and he paid a lot of attention to me, and he said you and I weren’t a good match because I was more mature than you, and I think I let him get in my head. Then I got swept up in—”

“Louisa—” He cut her off. It all sounded so juvenile now, but the consequences had been disastrous.

“I’m really, really sorry, Cody. Tell me what to do to make it up to you.”

He kept his gaze steadily above her head. He could feel her words drawing him in—winding themselves around his core. It had been a long time since he’d let anyone get close to him. Actually she’d been the last person he’d let get close to him, and it hadn’t worked out so well. He’d be smart to remember that.

He straightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t pretend,” she said. “You’ve been awkward and standoffish with me since you got back.”

“I’m fine, Louisa.”

“Then why did you leave that note in my mailbox? Why did you give me this?” She reached into her bag and took out the check he’d written her.

What was he supposed to say—that he’d left it because he didn’t want to owe her anything? He didn’t want to owe anyone anything.

She shoved the check into his chest. “I told you I didn’t want your money.”

He took the check and looked away, just in time to meet the eyes of the men on the boat, none of whom were minding their own business. They all hurried back to work.

“I told you I wasn’t trying to help you as part of my job,” she said. “I want to be your friend again.”

He looked at her then. “I don’t really have friends.”