Look, hellcat, I don’t know much of anything anymore. Not locked up in here. Whatever it is that you’re thinking, or that you think you’ve noticed is just . . . your imagination. We’ve all been separated for so long thatyou’re searching for things to make you feel better until I’m free. That’s all this is. Your imagination.
You’re Ash’s twin sister. That’s why I did what I did. If it had been Lacey in your shoes, I’d have done the same out of respect for him because that’s the kind of guy I am. I solve my issues with my fists without considering the consequences so that nobody else has to. Trust me, you’re better off without me.
I’m sending your photos back. Maybe when I’m out of here we can talk about this properly. Or maybe not.
I’m sorry.
Rowe
The last letterI ever got from Rowe gutted me.
I knew when I’d sent mine that I was risking our entire friendship on a hunch. I’d been confident enough to do it, and in the months that followed, I’d regretted it to the point that I wished I’d never met him at all. It was the young, naïve little girl inside of me who’d hoped for some sort of miracle romance to happen simply because I wanted it to, and it was that part of me that suffered in the aftermath. She flaked away bit by bit until I forgot what it had ever felt like to pine and yearn and crush on a boy the way I had with Rowe.
For the years that followed, I found my mind slipping back to the Polaroid pictures he’d never sent back. In the dark, whenI’d stumble home drunk after a night out with a hand weighed down by a diamond ring, or later on when I’d roll away from my ex-husband in bed, I wondered if he kept them. Did he rip each one into tiny shreds and let them fall through the bars of his cell door? Were they flushed down the toilet?
All of the photos I had of us were in the basement of my parents’ house, trapped away from everyone. I thought that if I’d boxed them up and left them behind, his memory would have stayed there too. Only it didn’t.
I carried on with my life, and no part of me regrets leaving Oak Point. The choices I made were right at the time, and I grew more in the ten years I was gone than I would have if I’d stayed. I needed the fresh start without the weight of every decision I’d ever made hanging on to my back. Happiness found me in Mahone Bay, even if I’d still sometimes felt a broody, grey gaze clinging to me in the shadows and rough, calloused hands brushing my skin when I let my guard too far down.
Ethan may have lit our marriage on fire, but there was a time when I loved him. When we met on my short trip to Nova Scotia, I was a shadow of myself. I was clinging to the memory of a man I’d known my entire life and a few friendly letters we’d exchanged. Then, my heart broke, and I was officially moving to that same beautiful, salty-aired town and taking back the jagged pieces of myself that I’d given out too freely. As much as I wish it wasn’t true, Ethan helped me lose the sad, heartbroken woman I’d brought across the country and find a new sense of happiness, regardless of how fleeting I knew it was.
I was still myself, but without the nasty wave of depression that had me losing my sense of self before I’d left. Every day that I was gone, I thought less about the boy who’d once been my best friend. I didn’t notice when I began placing bricks over my old personality, creating a new one. It felt good to build something new, and my husband became the centre of my world.
Everything came together for me until it fell apart again. Only the second time didn’t affect me as deeply as the first.
Maybe it was always some prewritten plan for me to come back home. I can’t say that being here right now feels anything but right. There’s a sense ofwholenessthat wasn’t inside of me before. Every brick I’d placed in Mahone Bay has been chipped away, and the wounds I’d hidden beneath them have healed, leaving smooth scars in their place.
The rough feel of facial hair rubbing the side of my neck has me coming back into my body. I twist on the thick thighs beneath me and lean further into Rowe’s chest. He lingers with his beard leaving a tingly burn on my skin and takes my hand, using it to bring my beer to his lips.
I watch him drink the foamy liquid, my eyes trailing down his face to stare at the way his lips press firmly to the glass. When he pulls the bottle away, his mouth’s glossy, and I waste no time in licking the beer clean off.
“You don’t share for shit,” he murmurs, chasing my retreating lips long enough to steal a single kiss.
My eyelids droop as I smirk, using a flat palm to push him back against the flimsy fabric of the camping chair. His arm remains anchored around my back, and he uses the hold to haul me with him. We’re far too heavy together for this chair to last much longer without ripping, but there’s nothing that could make me get up right now.
I notch my head into the crook of his neck. “I didn’t know my beer was for the both of us.”
“Between you and Millie, you’ve left the rest of us with nothing.”
“I didn’t take her for such a beer lover.”
“Does that make you like her?”
“You’re just asking me that now? I’ve been around her plenty already,” I drawl.
The truth is that yeah, I like the pink princess. She’s sweet, but not in the way that usually chafes. The woman is soft-hearted, but she’s got some fire in her. That makes her fit in around here just fine.
He makes a noise of acknowledgment in his throat and takes my thigh into his hold, tugging it higher over his lap until I’m sitting sideways, completely draped over him.Conversation over, then.
There’s not an inch of space between us, and it’s taking far too much effort not to fall asleep. With the fire blazing in front of us and our friends talking amongst themselves about things I couldn’t care less about in this moment, I’m content to stay here forever.
The last time we were all here like this together, it was the night the boys got the group text that changed everything. I stiffen slightly at the unwanted memory, and Rowe’s hold tightens instinctively, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking about.
His words are spoken tightly, twinkling with darkness. “I found him a few years ago.”
“Who?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Ezra.”
