The days turned into weeks, and Lyra became a regular presence at the boatyard. She threw herself into the restoration with an intensity that reminded Elias of himself. They worked side by side, sanding, patching, and slowly bringing the old fishing boat back to life.
Elias found himself looking forward to their time together, even if he wouldn't admit it aloud. Lyra had a way of drawing him out of his own head, her stories and laughter cutting through the solitude he'd wrapped himself in.
But there was still something about her—a restlessness that lingered just beneath the surface.
One afternoon, as they worked on the boat's rudder, Lyra spoke up, her voice quieter than usual. "Do you ever feel like you're running out of time?"
Elias paused, glancing at her. "What do you mean?"
She leaned back against the railing, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "Like there's something you need to do, but you're not sure if you'll get the chance."
Elias thought about the question, his hands stilling. "Sometimes," he admitted.
Lyra nodded, her expression distant. "My dad used to say that regret's the heaviest thing to carry. I think that's why I came back. I didn't want to regret not trying to fix this—this boat, this place."
Elias didn't know how to respond, so he didn't. Instead, he turned his attention back to the rudder, the steady rhythm of the work grounding him.
It was a few days later when the first crack in their peaceful routine appeared.
Elias was in the workshop, sorting through tools, when Isaac came in, his expression unusually serious.
"Got a visitor looking for Lyra," Isaac said, leaning against the workbench.
Elias frowned. "Who?"
"Some guy named Roman," Isaac replied. "Didn't say much, just asked if I knew where she was."
The name stirred something in Elias, though he didn't know why. "What did you tell him?"
"Nothing," Isaac said with a shrug. "Told him I didn't know her well enough to say. He didn't seem too happy about that."
Elias nodded, a faint unease settling in his chest. He'd never seen Lyra mention anyone named Roman, but the way Isaac described him—calm, sharp-eyed, and persistent—didn't sit right.
"Where is she now?" Elias asked.
"Down by the docks," Isaac said. "Thought you might want to let her know."
Elias didn't waste any time. He left the workshop and headed toward the harbor, his pace quicker than usual.
He found Lyra sitting on her father's boat, a cup of coffee in hand. She looked up when she saw him, her brow furrowing slightly at his expression.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Someone's looking for you," Elias said, stopping at the edge of the dock. "Roman."
Lyra's reaction was immediate. Her body tensed, and her grip on the coffee cup tightened. "What did he want?"
"He asked Isaac where you were," Elias said. "Isaac didn't tell him anything, but I thought you should know."
Lyra set the cup down, her jaw tightening. "Thanks for letting me know."
Elias hesitated. "Is he… someone you know?"
Lyra nodded, but her expression was guarded. "He's from my past. Someone I thought I'd left behind."
Elias waited for her to say more, but she didn't. Instead, she stood, brushing off her jeans. "I'll handle it."
"Do you need help?" Elias asked, his tone careful.
Lyra shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "No. But thanks."
Elias wanted to press further, but the look in her eyes stopped him. Whatever Roman represented, it wasn't his place to pry—at least, not yet.
That evening, Elias couldn't shake the unease that had settled over him. He sat by the fireplace, his journal open on the table, but the pages remained blank. His thoughts were restless, circling back to Lyra and the tension in her voice when she spoke of Roman.
He didn't know much about her past, but it was clear that it wasn't as distant as she'd hoped.
The next morning, Elias returned to the boatyard, half-expecting to find Lyra already at work. But the docks were quiet, the boatyard empty.
Hours passed, and she didn't show up.
By afternoon, Elias's worry had grown into something sharper. He wasn't sure what to do—she hadn't asked for his help, but something told him Roman's arrival wasn't a coincidence.
He was about to head into town to ask around when he heard footsteps behind him.
"Looking for me?" Lyra's voice was light, but there was an edge to it.
Elias turned to see her walking toward him, her expression carefully neutral.
"Where were you?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop himself.
"I had something to take care of," Lyra said.
"With Roman?"
Her gaze flickered, and for a moment, Elias thought she might brush him off. But then she sighed, running a hand through her hair.
"Yes," she admitted. "He's… someone I used to work with. He found out I was back in Clearwater and decided to show up uninvited."
Elias waited, sensing there was more to the story.
"He's not dangerous," Lyra added quickly, as if reading his thoughts. "Just persistent. He doesn't take 'no' very well."
"Is he going to be a problem?" Elias asked.
Lyra hesitated. "I don't know," she said finally. "But I'll deal with it."
Elias studied her, noting the tension in her shoulders, the way she avoided his gaze. He wanted to press further, to ask why Roman had come looking for her, but he held back.
"If you need anything," he said instead, "you know where to find me."
Lyra looked at him then, her expression softening. "Thanks, Elias. That means a lot."
She turned and walked away, leaving Elias alone with his thoughts.
As he watched her go, he couldn't shake the feeling that Roman's arrival was only the beginning of something bigger—something that could disrupt the fragile balance they'd begun to build.