The Tide Between Us Novels & Stories

Taylor and I are standing on the pebbles that make up Brighton’s ‘beach’, watching the waves crash on the shore as the weak, wintery sun does its best to warm our freezing limbs. When it is clear that the warmth radiating off Taylor is not enough to stop me from shaking with cold, we agree that it is time to head back into town.

"Remember, the Whispering Cove doesn't just challenge your strength but your very essence. Stay true to yourselves." With the eve of the Tidal Moon approaching, the weight of our impending journey grew heavier. But the promise Seraphina and I made to each other, coupled with our determination to protect Meranthia, fueled our resolve. As we stood at the precipice of the unknown, our bond was the beacon that promised to guide us through the darkest depths. The eve of the Tidal Moon arrived with an otherworldly beauty, the ocean glowing with an ethereal light that reflected the celestial dance above. As Seraphina and I stood at the entrance Altair had shown us, the weight of our quest settled o

"Just promise me that if you say no, it won't be because of pride. Okay?" "Okay." Taylor nodded before kissing me on the cheek. I stayed like that for about ten minutes, just letting her hold me, my head resting on her shoulder. Little moments like this were so nice. It was kind of like the ocean. When Taylor and I were, well, you know, it was so easy to let myself submerge into the deepest parts of that place. Now, with her close, it was like I was walking along the shore, just dipping in my toes. Very nice, and it reminded me more was there when I wanted to go out deeper.

Between us. And no amount of showers was going to wash that away.

with exaggerated swoons. Then the double doors to the cafeteria slammed open. And Zoe Tran came storming in like a Category Five hurricane. Every head turned. Her eyes scanned the room like a laser beam until she zeroed in on our table. She walked straight up to us—no hesitation, no warning. Dylan blinked. “Oh hey, Zoe—” She cut him off. “Shut up.” Her voice cracked like a whip. Dylan actually flinched. Then she turned on Dylan first. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“I’m scared.” “I know,” she whispers. “That’s why the pond is perfect. No pressure. No crowds. Just you and the ice.” For the first time in weeks, something inside me loosens, not much, but enough to breathe. Maybe tomorrow won’t fix everything. But maybe it can be a beginning.

Music drifted through the car—something easy, something that made you want to linger. Her son played tour guide from the back. “Sheep!” Keller answered, not even surprised anymore. “Yeah.” “And more sheep!” “Ireland’s breaking records now.” “And cows!” “That’s it. We’re famous.” Selana laughed again—quieter this time, just content. She caught Keller’s glance in the mirror. He noticed, and somehow, nothing needed to be said. These pockets of silence kept happening, places where they just understood each other. After so much chaos, even peace felt a little strange. Strange and a bit scary.

By the third day it had become something that moved — a current running along the inside of my bones, gathering at my sternum, patient and directional. On the fourth night, the current became a tide. There's a real difference between those two things. A current is movement through a space. A tide is the whole body of water deciding to go somewhere. I know the distinction because I grew up near enough to water to have felt both, and what I felt on the fourth night wasn't the current anymore. It was the full weight of something pressing outward at every surface I had from the inside — steadily, without hurry, with the absolute certainty of something that has enough of itself to do what it inte

We were no longer visitors, and we were no longer just holding our ground; we were part of the landscape. Silas was inside, the low, steady sound of the coffee grinder acting as a timer for our day. I leaned against the railing, watching the tide begin its slow retreat from the shore. The ocean looked vast and indifferent, yet somehow, it no longer felt like a threat. It felt like a mirror, reflecting the stillness we had finally managed to cultivate within ourselves.