Mint Married Another Man, and the Brooding Commander Chased Me Until His Eyes Went Red

I was reaching for the microphone when Commander Rhys Mercer told the Harborlight donors I couldn't be trusted with a rescue route. The room went still around us. A waiter paused with a tray of wine. Across the long table, Jonah Hale stopped folding his napkin. My wedding band wasn't on my finger yet, but the gold invitations had been mailed three weeks earlier, and Rhys's hand rested at the small of my back as if that made his words less sharp. He lifted his glass. "Mina knows the harbor better than anyone. That's why it's hard to say this. But the inquiry has raised serious questions about her judgment." I looked at the printed program beside my plate. My name appeared beneath his: Mina Bell, community liaison for the Bellwether Rescue Fleet. The donors had been told I would speak about the new dispatch system. Instead, Rhys had brought up the night my father died. "I didn't approve the North Channel route," I said. Rhys's fingers tightened against my back. "That isn't what the log says." "I know what the log says." At the far end of the table, a board member glanced down at his program. No one looked at me for long. Rhys had chosen this room because a public accusation made a private answer sound like a defense. He continued, calm and polished. "We're all grieving what happened to Captain Bell. But the review is about facts, not grief." My father had drowned six years earlier after his rescue boat lost power in a storm. The official report said he had gone into the channel against protocol. I had spent years believing the report. Then, that afternoon, I found the original radio archive on a backup drive in the old station office. My father's last transmission had included a fuel warning. The route had been changed after he left the dock. And the account that approved it belonged to Rhys. I slid the microphone away from him. "You changed the dispatch log." The room rustled. Rhys let his hand fall. "Mina, not here." "You brought it here." His jaw moved once. He could still have denied it. Instead, he turned to the donors and said, "This is exactly why we need a formal review. She's too close to the case." I felt every face in the room turn toward me. The old hurt was familiar. The new part was realizing Rhys had known about the original archive before I did. He had invited me to this dinner while preparing to make me the problem. Jonah stood. "Mina, do you want to leave?" I looked at Rhys. "I want you to tell them who changed the route." He didn't. I took off the engagement ring he had given me and set it beside my untouched glass. The diamond caught the chandelier light. "The wedding is over." Rhys stepped toward me. "You can't make that decision in the middle of a misunderstanding." "It stopped being a misunderstanding when you used my father's death to protect your reputation." I walked out with Jonah. Behind us, a chair scraped hard against the floor. Outside, the harbor wind bit through my dress. Jonah held out his coat without asking me what I needed to feel. "I found the archive," I said. "I know," he replied. He had helped me search the station records that afternoon. "And I'll stand beside you when you decide what to do with it." I looked back at the lit windows, where Rhys's shadow had appeared behind the glass. "I'm done deciding what to do for him."