My Fisherman

chapter 2

The bus station in Seabrook was nothing like the one Savannah had left behind in the city.

It was smaller and quieter.

There were only a few buses parked outside, an old ticket booth near the entrance, and a small waiting area with wooden benches that had clearly been there longer than Savannah had been alive.

The moment Savannah stepped off the bus, she realized one very important thing.

Everyone could see her.

She stood beside the bus with her small bag in one hand and her wedding dress gathered slightly in the other.

A little girl walking past stopped.

She stared.

Then she looked at her mother.

“Mommy, is she a princess?”

Savannah closed her eyes for a second.

The mother smiled apologetically.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Savannah said.

The little girl continued staring.

“But why is her face dirty?”

Savannah opened her eyes.

The mother looked horrified.

“Sweetheart!”

“What?” the girl asked innocently. “It is.”

Savannah touched her cheek.

Her makeup had survived the wedding morning surprisingly well, considering everything she had put herself through.

But not perfectly.

There were faint black marks beneath her eyes from the mascara that had run when she cried. A little of her foundation had rubbed away. Her lipstick was almost gone.

She probably looked less like a bride and more like a bride who had escaped from somewhere.

Which, unfortunately, was exactly what she was.

Savannah gave the little girl a small smile.

“She has a point.”

The mother laughed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Really, it's okay.”

The little girl looked at Savannah's dress.

“Are you getting married?”

Savannah hesitated.

“No.”

The answer came so quickly that the mother raised an eyebrow.

Savannah corrected herself.

“I was supposed to.”

“Oh.”

The mother understood immediately.

Savannah smiled politely.

“I hope you have a nice day.”

She walked away before the conversation could become an interview.

She had survived her family.

She had survived the wedding.

She had survived the bus ride.

She was not about to be defeated by a curious six-year-old.

Savannah checked her phone.

Twenty-three missed calls.

She stared at the screen.

Dad.

Mom.

Ethan.

Michael.

Her brothers.

Then another call came through.

Dad.

She watched it ring.

For a moment, guilt tightened her chest.

Then she remembered standing in front of the mirror that morning, wearing a dress she had never wanted to wear, preparing to marry a man she did not love because everyone else had decided it was the right thing for her.

She declined the call.

A message appeared almost immediately.

Where are you?

Another followed.

Savannah, call me now.

Then another.

This isn't funny.

Savannah almost laughed.

Funny?

Nothing about the last few hours had been funny.

Except maybe the fact that she had run away from her own wedding in a wedding dress and was now standing in a small coastal town where half the people seemed to know each other.

She put her phone away.

“Grandma,” she whispered.

Her grandmother was the reason she had come to Seabrook.

She had called her the night before.

There had been no long explanation.

No dramatic speech.

Just one simple question.

“Can I come home?”

Her grandmother had answered without hesitation.

“Of course you can.”

Savannah had not realized until then how badly she needed to hear those words.

Home.

That was what Seabrook had always been to her.

Even though she had spent most of her life in the city, some of her happiest childhood memories belonged to this town.

Summer mornings.

The smell of the ocean.

Her grandmother's kitchen.

Running barefoot along the beach.

And a version of herself who had never felt like she needed permission to make her own choices.

Savannah looked around.

The town had changed.

But somehow, it still felt familiar.

She spotted a small local shuttle bus parked across the street.

A hand-painted sign on the windshield read:

SEABROOK NORTH ROUTE

Savannah walked toward it.

The driver was sitting behind the wheel, drinking coffee.

He looked up when she approached.

His eyes went from her face to her dress.

Then back to her face.

He lowered his coffee.

“You lost?”

Savannah glanced around.

“Hopefully not.”

The driver looked at her dress again.

“Most people looking for somewhere around here don't usually arrive dressed for a wedding.”

“I've had a complicated morning.”

He nodded slowly.

“Yeah.”

He looked at the dress again.

“I can see that.”

Savannah laughed despite herself.

“Does everyone in this town ask questions?”

“No.”

He took another sip of coffee.

“Some people just stare.”

She smiled.

“That might actually be worse.”

He chuckled.

“Where are you headed?”

“My grandmother's house.”

She gave him the name of the street.

He nodded.

“Yes.”

“That’s on the north side.”

“Can you take me there?”

“That's what the bus is for.”

Savannah climbed aboard.

There were only five other passengers.

A man reading a newspaper.

An elderly woman with two grocery bags.

A teenager wearing headphones.

A mother holding a sleeping baby.

And a man who looked like he had already decided Savannah was the most interesting thing that had happened to him all week.

She took a seat near the window.

The elderly woman across the aisle glanced at her.

Savannah smiled.

The woman smiled back.

Then her eyes dropped to the wedding dress.

Savannah knew what was coming.

“You ran away, didn't you?”

Savannah blinked.

The woman smiled.

“I have eyes.”

Savannah laughed.

“Yes.”

The woman nodded as if Savannah had just confirmed something important.

“Good.”

“Good?”

“I was worried you might have stolen the dress.”

The man with the newspaper suddenly laughed.

Savannah covered her mouth.

“Oh my goodness.”

The elderly woman shrugged.

“I've seen stranger things.”

The driver called from the front.

“Mrs. Dawson, don't encourage her.”

“I’m not encouraging her. I'm welcoming her.”

Savannah smiled.

For the first time since leaving the wedding, the knot in her chest loosened.

Maybe coming here had not been such a terrible idea.

The little bus rolled through Seabrook.

Savannah watched the town pass by through the window.

Small shops.

Fishing boats.

Restaurants facing the water.

People carrying boxes from the harbor.

Children riding bicycles.

Men unloading equipment from trucks.

Everything looked slower here.

Simpler.

But there was something alive about the place.

Something warm.

Savannah rested her head against the window.

She had no idea what would happen next.

She didn't know how long she would stay.

She didn't know how she would explain everything to her grandmother.

She didn't know what her father would do when he found her.

And she certainly didn't know what would happen when Alexander realized she wasn't coming back.

She closed her eyes.

For now, she only wanted to breathe.

After nearly twenty minutes, the bus slowed.

“We're here,” the driver called.

Savannah opened her eyes.

She looked outside.

Her grandmother's street.

Her heart jumped.

She reached for her bag and stood.

The driver glanced at her.

“Good luck.”

Savannah smiled.

“Thank you.”

Then he added, “And for what it's worth, you look happier now.”

Savannah paused.

She looked at him.

He shrugged.

“Just saying.”

She smiled.

“I think I am.”

She stepped off the bus.

The little vehicle pulled away, leaving Savannah alone on the quiet roadside.

She took a deep breath.

Then she heard a vehicle approaching.

A dark pickup truck came slowly down the road.

Savannah moved closer to the side of the road.

The truck stopped a few feet away.

The driver's door opened.

A man stepped out.

Savannah forgot to move.

He was tall.

Very tall.

Broad shoulders stretched beneath a faded gray T-shirt, and his jeans were worn from actual work rather than fashion. His dark hair was slightly messy.

He looked like someone who spent more time outdoors than in front of a mirror.

And somehow, that made him more attractive.

Savannah stared for half a second too long.

Then she remembered herself.

The man closed the truck door and looked directly at her.

His eyes moved briefly over the wedding dress.

Then to her face.

Then back to the dress.

His eyebrows lifted.

Savannah immediately knew what he was thinking.

She looked ridiculous.

A runaway bride with smeared makeup, a tiny bag, and a wedding dress standing alone on a quiet road.

She straightened.

The man took a few steps toward her.

“Savannah Reed?”

She nodded.

“Yes.”

He stopped in front of her.

“I’m Cole Bennett.”

Savannah looked at him.

Then at the truck.

Then back at him.

Of course.

Of all the people her grandmother could have sent to pick her up, it had to be the ridiculously handsome man.

And judging by the way he was looking at her dress, he had already figured out exactly what kind of day she was having.

Cole glanced at the small bag in her hand.

Then at the wedding dress again.

“You're going to want to tell me you didn't just run away from your wedding.”

Savannah stared at him.

“I was hoping you wouldn't notice.”

Cole's mouth twitched.

“Hard to miss.”

Savannah sighed.

“Great.”

Cole smiled.

And for the first time that day, Savannah had absolutely no idea what to say next.