Erik had been on the water for as long as he could remember. His father had taught him to handle a skiff before he’d even learned to drive, and now, in his thirties, fishing was the only work he trusted to keep food on the table. He wasn’t the wealthiest man in the village, but he was steady, practical, and known for rolling his eyes at drama.
The village itself was small; barely three hundred people living along a weather-beaten coast. Rusting trucks lined the harbor road, boats swayed against their moorings, and the smell of diesel mixed with salt and seaweed. There wasn’t much to do except fish, talk about fishing, or complain about the market price of fish. Which was why the latest rumor had spread so fast.