Shipped(80)

Graeme Cracker_Collins: To the woman who inspired me to rejoin the world, “thank you” will never be enough.



Graeme already has more than two hundred followers, many of whom have left messages of love and welcome. Clearly, friends and extended family. Ryan_Collins206 commented on the photo of me: “Who is this woman? I need to give her a kiss.”

I swallow past the painful lump in my throat. Graeme has officially returned to the world.

Heart cracking, I follow him back.

A knock sounds from my front door. “Barbara,” I murmur. What did she forget now?

The knock comes again, less tentative this time. “Coming,” I yell. Standing, I rub feeling back into my prickling thighs as I edge through the living room. The thin fabric of my yoga pants is slick against my palms.

I open the front door. And nearly faint.

It’s not Barbara.

Graeme is standing in my hallway. It’s him. Here. In person.

His scent breaks through my shock first, that citrusy cedar bouquet, followed by the vaguely rumpled state of his appearance. He’s wearing jeans and a faded blue polo and his customary black backpack. His cheeks are scruffy and his eyes widen when they meet mine.

“Thanks for following me back,” he says. And for one insane moment, I wonder if following him back on Instagram summoned him here through a magic portal in the ether.

“You’re welcome.”

He scrubs a hand across the nape of his neck. “I came to see you. I hope you don’t mind I let myself up. There was a woman running out of your building and I caught the door before it closed.”

Probably Barbara.

“How… do you even know where I live?”

The wood floor creaks behind me, and just as I turn around, Walsh scurries into the living room. “Ah.” Walsh.

“When I couldn’t reach you, I messaged Walsh to make sure you were okay. She told me, very emphatically, that I should hop the first flight to Seattle. So here I am. And, well, I thought I’d give you this.”

Reaching into his bag, he pulls something out—a postcard.

My postcard.

The one I wrote to myself on Floreana Island. Graeme must have fished it out of the historic post office barrel when I wasn’t looking. A bark of incredulous laughter escapes me. When I take it, our fingers brush and I can’t stop a shiver of energy from zinging through my veins.

“I was intending on delivering it later, but today seemed like the right time.”

Lifting the card, I read the three words I penned to myself in an oversized scrawl.

Keep chasing sharks.



Letting out a breathy laugh, I tap the card against my palm. I’ve been chasing a shark all evening, and with Graeme here…

I might chase the biggest shark of all.

“I’m turning down the promotion,” he says.

My eyes snap to his. “What? You can’t.”

He shakes his head, a wry smile gracing his angular lips. “It’s for the best. I don’t believe in getting ahead at the expense of someone else. You weren’t given a fair shake, and that’s not okay. I’m turning it down and—”

I grab his biceps. “I don’t want the promotion anymore.”

He blinks at me like I’ve sprouted another head. “You don’t?”

“You were right about me and digital marketing… I don’t love it. Not the way you do. I think I’d be happier, more fulfilled, in a role that spans multiple departments, not only marketing. I’m not sure what that looks like or whether I’ll find it at Seaquest, but I can finally admit something: being a director for the sake of the title isn’t worth it. I need to find a position that will actually make me happy. You’re a better fit for the job.”

His forehead creases. “So you’re giving up?”

“Oh, definitely not.” Leaning against the doorframe, I cross my arms to keep my heart from beating out of my chest. “Since James won’t take me seriously, I’m pitching my idea to Marlen. This conservation proposal is the right path for the company—I feel it in my bones. Now I just have to make my voice heard.”

Graeme laughs. It starts out a soft chuckle and balloons into a full-throated belly laugh. “You know, I thought by delivering this postcard I’d be the one riding in on a white horse, giving you a boost when you needed it most. I should have known you had it in you all along.”

Sucking in a deep breath, he steps closer. “I’m so sorry, Henley. I’m sorry for not saying anything on Bartolomé and I’m sorry for the distance between us since the cruise. What you said got to me—it was harsh, but I needed to hear it. Because you were right. I’ve come a long way in the last year, but I’ve still been hiding. I decided to change that.”

“You have?” My voice is barely above a whisper.

“I can’t wait for the stars to align to start living the life I want. That’s another reason why you haven’t heard from me in the last couple weeks. I finally cleared out the last of my mom’s belongings, put her house on the market, and I’ve been applying for jobs in Seattle. It’s where my remaining family lives, and it’s where you are. It’s where I want to be. Now. I don’t want to wait anymore for a company to relocate me on their timeline and under their conditions.” His jaw tenses and his nostrils flare. “Can you forgive me for how I treated you?”