Ashton folds his hands on top of the table, his thumbs moving circles around each other. “Something like that. I almost wishGeorgiana had a secret man lying in wait for her. Instead, she ghosted me after three months together. Happened while my brother was here. Georgiana didn’t want me to come here without her. I told her I loved her one night, she said it back, and the next morning, I never heard from her again.”
His eyes are distant, and I can tell there’s more to the story, but I don’t want to push him further and sour his time here.
I reach for his hands and take them between mine. The action is affectionate, but not romantic. Over the past couple of days, Ashton has come to feel like a best friend. A brother.
But you have a brother,my mind helpfully reminds me.One you’re not speaking with right now.
I ignore it, choosing to focus on Ashton right now. “It’s for the best, right?” He nods as if he’s unsure, but I continue talking. “You’re in Bora Bora right now. Let’s forget about hurricanes and enjoy this paradise while we’re here hunting your brother.”
Snickering at my phrasing, a glow rushes back to Ashton’s face, and I pull my hands away. “Feels like we’rehuntinghim down, huh?”
Our food arrives, and I rush to try the mango fish tacos. Once I get past the burning sensation from the heat, an explosion of flavor covers my tongue. Suddenly, I’m back on the deck, eating similar tacos with a man who looks like Ashton but isn’t him. Noah is laughing, but I’m sitting cross-armed and staring him down, trying not to show any hint of excitement. But Ifeelthem. The emotions at that moment—nervous yet comfortable, thrilling excitement, longing, and confusion—flooded my heart.
“Oh.” I gasp through a mouthful of food. I chew quickly and swallow as a single tear runs down my cheek.
“It’s that good?” Ashton raises a single brow, holding some kind of sandwich to his face as if he was about to bite into it, but then he saw me.
“Another memory.”
We finish our meal and meander back to our bungalow, but Ashton is spent and retires for the evening while I go for a walk under the setting sun. Everything about this place feels familiar, like there’s something lingering below the surface of my mind that I can’t quite grasp. It’s a haze, and when I attempt to grab the fleeting fog, it dissipates between my fingers, vanishing.
It’s frustrating.
I kick the sand and stare out onto the beach, listening to the soft waves break against the shore. I’ve searched the faces of the beachgoers, and none of them resemble Ashton. Some sinking feeling within me says I’m wasting my time, that Noah’s not here. But can I trust my intuition?
Groaning, I continue walking up the beach and back to the boardwalk.God, please?I plead.Help me remember. Give me a sign. Anything. Tell me if I’m on the right path or the wrong—
“Ah!” I scream as my sandal snags on a loose board, and I plummet toward the boardwalk. I break my fall with my hands, but the texture of the splinters beneath my bare thighs are like little lightning strikes to my memory, conjuring a starry sky, guttural screams, and blood. Lots of blood.
And just as quickly as the images appear in my head, they’re gone again.
“GOD! WHY?” I holler, uncaring if anyone hears me. I ball my fist as I stand, breathing deeply to calm myself. Then hot tears of anger roll down my face as I clutch the cross necklace. What am I doing here? Noah isn’t here. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. I watch as a couple walks into a bungalow, realizing it’s number twenty-one.
The one I stayed in. With Noah.
My heart speeds up as I realize I’m in the area where Noah and I were attacked. Something otherworldly comes over me, and I frantically search the boardwalk, looking for any traces of blood or nicks in the wood possibly caused by a knife. Hittingmy knees, I pull at my hair as I scrape at the boardwalk, looking forsomething.Anything. And I don’t stop crawling around like a madwoman until Ashton’s at my side, lifting me to my feet, and pulling me into a tight embrace as I sob in his arms. “It’s unfair, Ashton. It’s unfair.”
“I know, Esme.”
***
Later that night, after I calmed down and collected myself, apologizing profusely to Ashton who insisted it’s a plenty normal reaction to have, I pull up and stare at Sam’s contact, my finger hovering over the “call” button.
Fortifying my walls and mustering my willpower, I press the button on the screen.
Within one ring, a sniffling Sam picks up the phone. “Esme,” she cries, drawing out the “me” sound of my name. “I don’t know what to do.”
Alarm rings through me, and I straighten up in bed, pulling the soft, downy white blankets over my legs. “Sam? What happened? Are you okay?” A million possibilities pass through my mind, all past transgressions on her end forgotten.
I hear Ethan in the background, telling Sam he’s going to get her a glass of water. Then, Sam says, “Esme! They are talking about canceling Shakin’ Up the ‘Speare!”
My heart drops in my chest, though I’m partially relieved she’s not dying or seriously injured. But I know how much this theater group means to her. She’s worked her butt off to not only help establish it but also to build it from the ground up. Theater has always been her passion, and this was a dream of hers.
“Sam, I’m so sorry,” I whisper into the phone. “What happened?”
My best friend speaks in a jumbled mess as I strain to understand her. “We were looking to expand our production down to the coast, and then Bradford, you know, our owner, got tangled up in a lawsuit with the Callahan family. Bradford won’t tell me all the details, but he said the Callahans were backing us financially and now they’ve pulled their funding due to a dispute between one of our actresses down in Willow Bay, Remi Martin, and Johnny Callahan’s son, Julien.”
“What dispute?”
