Clara’s boots sank into the damp sand as she approached the edge of the cliff, the salt-kissed wind tugging at her coat. The ocean stretched before her, a vast expanse of gray and blue, its waves crashing against the rocks with a rhythm that felt like a heartbeat. She hadn’t planned to come here, but the letter had left no room for negotiation. Her father’s funeral was tomorrow, and the house—his house—was waiting. She tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack, the weight of it a silent reminder of all she’d left behind.
The door creaked as she pushed it open, the scent of mildew and old wood greeting her. Dust motes swirled in the slanting light, and the silence was so thick it pressed against her ears. She moved through the rooms, tracing her fingers over the worn edges of furniture, each object a fragment of a life she’d stopped trying to understand years ago. A photograph sat on the mantel—a younger version of her father, grinning beside a man she didn’t recognize. His eyes were the same as hers, sharp and wary, but there was something else there, something she couldn’t name.
The knock came just after dusk. Clara froze, her hand hovering over the photo. She hadn’t expected anyone. The door opened to reveal a man standing on the threshold, his dark hair damp from the sea, his shirt clinging to his chest. He didn’t speak at first, just tilted his head as if assessing her. When he finally did, his voice was low, roughened by the wind. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“I’m here because I was told to be,” she said, her tone sharper than she intended.
He stepped back, gesturing toward the empty porch. “Then you’d better come in. It’s colder than it looks.”
Inside, the fire had died, leaving only the faintest ember. Clara watched as he knelt, blowing gently until the flames flickered to life. The glow cast shadows across his face, revealing a scar along his jawline—a thin, pale line that seemed to pulse with the fire’s light. “I’m Daniel,” he said without looking up. “Daniel Hayes.”
“Clara Voss,” she replied, though the name felt foreign on her tongue.
He stood, brushing dust from his knees. “Your father’s a hard man to outlive.”
“He wasn’t my father,” she said, the words bitter. “He was my guardian. A man who took me in when I had nowhere else to go.”
Daniel’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t press. Instead, he crossed the room and pulled a bottle from the cabinet. “Whiskey?”
She nodded, and he poured two glasses, sliding one across the table. The liquid was smooth, burning just enough to make her lungs ache. They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the crackle of the fire and the distant crash of waves.
“He never talked about you,” Daniel said finally. “Not really. Just that you were trouble.”
“And you’re not?”
A dry laugh escaped him. “I’m the one who had to clean up after you. Remember the time you tried to fix the boat motor and ended up flooding the garage?”
Clara blinked. “You were there?”
“Every time.” He met her gaze, and for a moment, the room felt too small. “I kept waiting for you to come back. But you didn’t.”
The words hung between them, heavy and unspoken. Clara looked down at her glass, the amber liquid reflecting the fire’s glow. She hadn’t expected to see him again, not like this. Not after all these years.
“Why didn’t you leave?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Daniel exhaled, his shoulders tensing. “I had my reasons.”
“And now?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stood and walked to the window, staring out at the dark sea. “Now I’m waiting for you to leave. Again.”
The words stung more than she expected. Clara pushed herself to her feet, her glass empty. “I’m not here to stay,” she said, though the lie felt hollow.
“Then why are you here?”
She didn’t have an answer. The fire crackled, and the wind howled outside, but inside, the silence was deafening.
—
The next morning, Clara found Daniel on the dock, his back to her as he adjusted the lines of a small boat. The sun was rising, casting golden light across the water, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, his expression unreadable.
“You’re up early,” he said.
“You’re out here before dawn.”
A faint smile tugged at his lips. “It’s the only time the sea is quiet enough to hear yourself think.”
She stepped closer, the scent of salt and diesel thick in the air. “Why did you stay?”
Daniel hesitated, his gaze dropping to the water. “I don’t know. Maybe I was waiting for something. Or someone.”
Clara’s heart pounded, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “What if I’m not the person you’re waiting for?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, weathered envelope. “This was yours. I kept it.”
She took it, her fingers trembling as she opened it. Inside was a photograph—her, younger, laughing as she stood on the same dock, her hands wrapped around Daniel’s arm. The memory hit her like a wave: the summer she’d left, the promise she’d broken.
“I didn’t know you still had this,” she whispered.
“I didn’t know I did either,” he said. “Until yesterday.”
The wind shifted, carrying the sound of gulls and the distant call of a ship’s horn. Clara looked up at him, her throat tight. “I’m sorry,” she said, the words feeling like a lifeline.
Daniel nodded, his eyes searching hers. “So am I.”
They stood there, the weight of everything unspoken between them, until the sound of footsteps on the dock broke the silence. A man approached, his face lined with age and worry. “Daniel?”
He turned, his expression hardening. “What do you want?”
The man hesitated, then handed him a folded paper. “Your brother’s been seen in town. He’s back.”
Clara’s breath caught. She’d heard the rumors, whispered stories about the man who’d vanished years ago, leaving only questions in his wake. Daniel’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, she saw the boy he’d once been—lost, angry, searching.
“I’ll deal with it,” he said, though his voice was steady.
The man nodded and walked away, leaving the paper on the dock. Clara picked it up, her fingers brushing against the edges. “Who is he?”
Daniel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned back to the water, his voice low. “He’s the reason I stayed.”
The words sent a chill through her, but she didn’t look away. “And now?”
He met her gaze, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t name. “Now I’m trying to figure that out.”
—
The storm came without warning. One moment, the sky was clear, and the next, the wind howled like a wounded animal. Clara stood on the porch, watching as the waves churned, their peaks white with fury. Daniel was already on the dock, shouting orders to the fishermen as they scrambled to secure their boats.
“Get inside!” he yelled over the wind.
She hesitated, then ran toward the house, the rain stinging her face. Inside, the lights flickered, and the air was thick with the smell of wet wood and salt. She grabbed a flashlight and headed back outside, ignoring the storm as she made her way to the dock.
Daniel was there, struggling to tie down a boat as the wind tore at his clothes. “Get back!” he shouted, but she didn’t move. Instead, she grabbed the line and helped him secure it.
“You’re insane,” he said, his voice barely audible over the storm.
“And you’re stubborn,” she shot back.
They worked in silence, the wind whipping around them, until the last boat was tied. Then Daniel turned to her, his face pale in the flash of lightning. “We need to get out of here.”
Clara nodded, and together they ran toward the house, the storm raging behind them. Inside, they collapsed against the door, breathless and soaked. The power had gone out, leaving them in darkness except for the flickering light of a candle Daniel had lit.
“Are you crazy?” he asked, his voice raw.
“You’re the one who stayed,” she said, her chest heaving. “I’m just following your example.”
A strange smile touched his lips, but before he could respond, the door flew open. A man stood there, soaked and breathing hard. “The storm’s worse than we thought. The town’s flooding.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s the others?”
“Gone. Scattered. We need to get to higher ground.”
Clara felt a chill crawl up her spine. “What about the boats?”
“They won’t make it,” the man said grimly. “We have to move now.”
Daniel turned to Clara, his expression unreadable. “We’ll take the car. It’s on the other side of the town.”
She nodded, and together they ran into the storm, the wind and rain a relentless force against them. The streets were flooded, the water rising quickly. They dodged debris, their feet slapping against the wet pavement as they made their way to the car.
When they finally reached it, Daniel jumped in and started the engine. Clara climbed in beside him, her hands shaking. “Are we safe?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked at her, his eyes searching hers. “We’ll be okay,” he said, though the words felt like a lie.
The car roared to life, and they drove into the storm, the road disappearing behind them. Clara didn’t know where they were going, only that she wasn’t letting go.
—
They found shelter in an old lighthouse on the edge of town, its windows cracked and its walls worn by time. Inside, the air was damp and cold, but it was safe. Clara sat by the fire, her clothes still damp, as Daniel tended to a cut on his hand.
“You’re bleeding,” she said.
He glanced down, then shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” she countered, taking the cloth from him and pressing it against the wound. “You could have gotten hurt worse.”
He didn’t pull away. Instead, he watched her, his expression unreadable. “You care,” he said quietly.
“Of course I do,” she replied, though the words felt like a confession.
A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire. Finally, Daniel spoke again. “I didn’t think you’d come back.”
Clara looked up, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t think I would either.”
He reached out, his fingers brushing hers, and for a moment, the storm outside seemed to fade. The fire burned brighter, the air thick with something unspoken.
“What happens now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Daniel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that felt like a promise. When he pulled back, his eyes were filled with something she couldn’t name. “We figure it out,” he said.
And for the first time in a long while, Clara believed him.
