She nodded. “I found the prettiest blue piece. I love that something plain like a broken jam jar can be transformed by the cold saltwater and rough sand over years and years. Kind of like what hurts actually refines it, if that makes any sense.”

Another piece of the puzzle that was Morgan clicked into place. This woman knew pain, and not just in a general sense. In the very real, raw, intimate way that changed a person—refined them like the sea glass.

“It makes all the sense in the world.” My voice dropped, as if it couldn’t physically support the weight of the charged air between us. I swallowed, my throat a little tighter than usual. “That day, we were at low tide. You were standing on the same sandbar you are now, but there was no water. The best time to find sea glass, actually. The next time we’re both around at low tide, I’ll show you how to spot where the rips will be when the tide comes back.”

“Thank you. It would be nice to get through a week where you don’t have to come to my rescue.” She rubbed the tops of her arms quickly.

“I don’t mind,” I assured her.

“And I appreciate that, but I do mind.” Her words were soft, taking the sting out of what felt a little like rejection. “I need to know I can stand on my own. It’s why I moved here. Why I chose a house that looks like Morticia Addams did the exterior design.”

Okay, I’d give her that one.

“So, if I can get through a week where I don’t nearly get myself killed, stuck, or struck in the head by something that you need to rescue me from, that would be a great start.”

“Got it.” Funny. My need to rescue was as deep as her need to not be rescued.

“I’m going to start right now by getting out of the water. Because once again, you were right, and I think my toes are turning blue. But I am going to let you feed me.”

That smile was back, giving me that same punch in the gut. Shit.

“I think I may have burned the burgers.” I didn’t tell her why.

She shrugged and tossed a grin over her shoulder as she walked away. “I’ll take my chances. Thanks for the rescue, though. Now let’s hope you don’t have to play the hero again,” she teased. “It’s almost like you have a complex.”

“You have no idea,” I muttered to myself, waiting until she was on the beach before trudging my way out of the water, getting some much-needed space to clear my head. I yanked off my shirt, grimacing when it stuck to the wet skin of my stomach and lower back.