Then he exhaled. “There was this one time ... I was maybe eleven. My dad decided he was ready for a relationship. He picked me up, took me for a ride on the road out here, like maybe he needed to blow off steam. I rode on the back of the bike, arms around his waist, pretending I wasn’t scared shitless.”
I looked up at him, my chest pulling tight. “You never talk about him.”
He exhaled, gaze fixed on the water. “We didn’t really have a relationship, not a real one. He wasn’t around much. My mom was the other woman—he didn’t exactly sign up for fatherhood.”
I stayed quiet, my chest tightening.
“He showed up a few times when I was a kid. Once with a cheap toy police car, once with a milkshake I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone about. And then ... nothing. Not until I was older and already angry enough to pretend I didn’t care.”
He glanced down at our hands, his thumb brushing across mine absently. “After he died, I got a call. He left me this bike and a letter I never read.”
“You never read it?” I whispered. The wind shifted, lifting the edge of my hair. I tucked a strand behind my ear and reached for his hand.
He shook his head. “I didn’t want his words. I wanted him to want me, and he never did. Not enough to matter, at least.”
Silence settled between us again, broken only by the distant rush of waves and the cry of a gull overhead.
“But this bike,” he said finally, nodding toward where it sat parked along the sand, “it’s the only thing I have from him. I don’t ride it much. But tonight ... I don’t know. I guess I wanted to rewrite something. Make a new good memory.”
I leaned into him, pressing my cheek to his shoulder, the ache in his voice curling around something deep in my chest.
“You are not him,” I said gently. “You’re so much better.”
He didn’t answer. Just turned his head and kissed the top of mine like he didn’t quite know what to say.
“You know ... I understand what it feels like to wish a relationship was something it isn’t.” I couldn’t look at Austin, so I just kept talking. “Brian and I were always friends, but ...” I exhaled, fumbling for the words to explain it all. “I think, in my head, things would get better, more passionate, or just feel ... right, somehow? I don’t know. Things like shared interests, caring enough to be on time, my needs as a woman ... it was like they never even crossed his mind.”
I blew a sad stream of air through my lips. “I learned too late that theideaof him was different from the man I married.He was perfectly content with a comfortable companion, but I neededmore. When I realized I was slowly becoming the shell of who I was, I had to leave. For myself, sure, but also for Winnie. She deserved a home where there was never a question that she was fiercely loved. I knew I could give that to her, but not if I lost myself completely.”
Austin turned to me. “You do deserve that, Selene. You deserve everything.”
Tears flooded my eyes as I tried to blink them away. Grit lodged in my throat so tightly I could only nod and nestle closer into him.
A beat passed. Then another.
That was when I saw her.
Just beyond the curve of the dunes, where the golden sand met the shadows of the woods, stood a woman in white.
Still. Barefoot. A pale white dress fluttering slightly in the breeze.
Goose bumps lifted on my arms as I stiffened and sat upright.
“What is it?” Austin asked, following my gaze, but she was gone.
I blinked, heart pounding harder than it should have. “Nothing,” I whispered, pressing my face to his shoulder like that could keep the moment from slipping through my fingers.
It was the wind, I told myself. Just a play of the light.
But part of me wasn’t so sure.
I shivered in the cold, and Austin’s arm tightened around me. “You’re frozen. Let’s get you home.”
I nodded and stood, my gaze still drifting to the spot where I saw her.
Was she like me? Yearning for something more but terrified it wasn’t meant for her?
I tried to shake her from my thoughts as we packed up, but I knew what I had seen.
