The Things We Said on the Way Up
An emotional friends-to-lovers story set inside a coastal lighthouse. As Mara and River climb its spiral staircase, each level reveals a truth they’ve never said out loud—until reaching the top changes everything.
“There it is,” she said, with a glimmer in her eye.
Mara noticed the lighthouse when the car curved along the coast—it rose out of the landscape like something pulled right out of her favorite coastal novels.
She had her phone angled toward her knee, the navigation app glowing softly while a low, pulsing electronic track filled the car.
River drove with one hand resting at the top of the wheel. He saw her expression illuminate the second the lighthouse came into view.
Red and white bands wrapped around its body in clean, unapologetic stripes, but what held her attention was the black spiral that threaded upward through it, bold and thick like a stroke of ink pointed steadily toward the sky.
She leaned forward in her seat without realizing it.
River glanced over, switching the hand at the top of the steering wheel.
“Yeah?”
She nodded, eyes still fixed on it. “It’s way bigger than I thought.”
“That’s usually how it goes,” he said, a hint of something playful in his voice.
She rolled her eyes and smiled.
A pale ocean stretched out beside them in a wide, slate-colored expanse.
They had flown in that morning from the Midwest, trading flat land and familiar quiet for salt air and seafood. The trip had been her idea—something she had mentioned once, casually, months ago.
I’ve always wanted to see the Outer Banks lighthouses.
He had remembered, no doubt. She knew that was the problem with River, he always considered her inner world more than she thought he should.
They parked in a gravel lot just beyond a low wooden fence, the lighthouse looming closer now, its presence more magnificent in person. The wind carried the scent of the mineral-rich ocean nearby.
Mara stepped out first, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as it immediately caught in the breeze.
River came around the other side of the car, grabbing a light jacket from the backseat and tossing it toward her without a word.
She caught it midair.
“Thanks,” she said, slipping it on.
“You’re going to freeze at the top,” he replied.
She huffed out a breath, but there was no real irritation in it.
They stood there for a moment longer than necessary, both of them looking at the lighthouse again.
Then he said, almost casually, “So… this is the first date?”
