Dean was by no means disobedient. When rules were set out, he generally liked to follow them, as getting in trouble made him blush furiously and bow his head in shame. It seemed to happen a lot whenever Jacob came home from one of his flights to find the apartment in disarray after himself and Benji had failed to stop Nathaniel from throwing yet another party in the eldest Andersenâs absence. Benji had always said that Nathaniel did so just to spite Jacob, and that the two of them had no control over what their cousin did and didnât do, but Dean still couldnât help but feel embarrassed when Jacob fixed his angry glare on him. Not at all eager to have anyone else look at him like that, Dean liked to keep his head down and do as he was told, although he tended to slip up sometimes, especially given the new freedom he had been granted when moving out of his parentsâ house and being allowed to go to university.
Despite no longer having to check in with his mother and father every time he left for university and arrived home after class, he had still been instructed not to go anywhere by himself â especially the beach. Ever since Bayâs disappearance all those years ago, the sandy stretch of beach had filled Dean with melancholy, but his parents with fear. The idea of their son, although twenty years old now, wandering along the shore by himself at such a late hour, would send them into a tizzy. However, Nathaniel and Benji wouldnât dare tell on him and he doubted Jacob cared enough to take note of his absence. So, he was free to while away his hours next to the ocean, waiting for the turtle eggs to hatch and making sure that Max didnât eat any or crush them with his oversized paws.
Each night that week had brought with it a new set of hatchings and Dean had always dropped to his knees immediately in order to lead the baby turtles across the sand and into the sea. He had giggled in delight every time Max sniffed curiously at them, even giving one a nudge with his large, wet nose and sending the tiny creature toppling into the waves where he could join his brothers and sisters.
That night had been no different and, torch in hand, Dean was shining a pathway for all the little turtles that were scuttling forward in the hopes they would meet their parents in the big blue. The waves crashed around his ankles and he wiggled his toes in the surf, feeling seaweed wrap around his heels and pebbles scrape his skin. He knew Nathaniel didnât like things like that and had yelled in horror when one particularly spiky piece of coral had jabbed him. It had taken hours and hours of reassuring from Dean to convince his dubious cousin that he hadnât stood on a stone fish. Dean, however, revelled in the feeling of the water moving around him, having never found anyone since Bay that shared that feeling. And then he had been allowed to meet people outside of his family and had befriended both Bret and Indiana, who both shared his affinity for the ocean. When he heard a voice call on him from across the stretch of sand, he half-expected it to be either of his friends, but the voice lacked Indyâs femininity and Bretâs German accent. That meant it could only be a stranger, and Deanâs grip around his torch tightened.
Although his heart had begun racing under his t-shirt, he told himself not to be so silly and not to jump to any conclusions. It really wasnât that late, and the beach was open to everyone. A familiar flare of annoyance made itself known and Dean, who tried to never think negatively of anyone, was once again shocked to feel a spike of resentment directed towards his parents. Their own paranoia had rubbed off on him over the years, making him fret over the mere sight of another lone figure walking along the beach.
Max, having sensed his ownerâs hesitance, nudged Deanâs hand and the boy jumped a little, before giving his dog a soft pat. Quickly, he returned his attention to the person walking towards him, and let out a rather loud and obvious sigh of relief. It was only another man who looked to be around his age, even if he might have been the tiniest bit older. Still, he didnât look threatening at all.
âHullo,â he smiled, although his expression quickly turned to one of horror when he realised where the man intended to step.
âWatch out!â he cried, hurriedly lunging forward and using his shoulder to rather rudely bump the stranger to the side so he wouldnât step on one of the turtles who had nearly found its way under his foot. Any other time, and Dean would have blushed at how bold he had been, but his alarm cancelled out his embarrassment and he clutched at the manâs sleeve in warning.
âYou nearly stood on one of the turtles!â he exclaimed. His tone wasnât accusatory, but rather gave way to how distressed he was at the mere idea. He let go of the manâs sleeve and quickly dropped to a crouch, the waves washing up around his knees and soaking his shorts, but he didnât mind. He quickly scooped the sea turtle up into his hands and allowed the water to carry it further out to sea.
âThat one was a little bit slower than the rest,â he mused, before glancing over his shoulder and fixing the man with a serious look. âI donât think it would have gotten out of the way in time. Iâm sorry I pushed you though.â
He smiled apologetically up at the man, who didnât look like he was dressed for the beach at all. A delighted giggle bubbled in his throat suddenly, and he pointed at the sand. âOne is going to crawl over your foot this time.â
Sure enough, one of the turtles was attempting to pull itself over the manâs bare foot and Dean only hoped he wouldnât immediately pull his foot away in shock like Nathaniel would surely do if he were in that position.
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