She didn’t have to think for too long. ‘This pool,’ she said. ‘This beach. We had it all to ourselves, growing up. I’d spend whole days down here. Swimming, climbing all over the rocks, looking for bits of sea glass or cool shells, exploring the little pockets of water left behind by the tide for sea creatures. We found an octopus once. It was just a small, common one. But we thought it was so cool. It kept trying to change color and camouflage itself, blend into the rocks. I stayed there all day, watching it, until the tide came back in and filled the pool again and then it was gone.’
‘The joys of a childhood by the sea,’ I said. ‘L.A. beaches are very different to this one. More sand, for a start.’
‘More toned, tanned and taut bodies too, I imagine.’
I snorted. ‘You got that right. Back home, a lot of people spend a hell of a lot of time and money obsessing about their bodies. You don’t seem to get that here.’
‘Iona Connolly ran women’s fitness classes in the community hall when I was a teen,’ she said. ‘My mother signed up and used to drag me along. They’d jump up and down for an hour and then afterwards all go to the café to drink coffee and eat muffins and I’d sit there and think,what was the point? Now that I’m older, I understand. It was more of a social thing, for most of them. Making connections. It’s easy to feel isolated here, especially in the winter.’
‘The winter we just had was brutal,’ I agreed, shuddering at the memory. ‘Obviously I knew that winters here on the East Coast would be a lot colder than I was used to, but I was still woefully ill-prepared.’
‘I used to love winters as a child. We’d sit on the porch with blankets wrapped around us and our fingers wrapped around mugs of delicious hot chocolate, and we’d watch storms rage out at sea. Count the lightning strikes and thunderclaps to figure out how far away the storms were.’
‘That sounds like a nice memory,’ I said softly.
She shrugged. ‘Like I said, it wasn’t all bad.’
‘Maybe, one day, you’ll have the chance to make more happy memories here,’ I said. ‘Drown out some of the bad.’
‘Maybe.’
I remembered how her arms had felt around my waist, her chest pressed against my back as she leaned into me. I didn’t think I’d imagined the look of regret on her own face when we got back to town and the ride was over. I suspected that it mirrored my own.
17
TAYLOR
I almost hadn’t gone down to the pool. When I held on to Jack on the back of the bike, I had felt a mix of confused feelings that I put down to residual adrenaline from the rescue. A high-pressure, life-or-death kind of situation like thathadto have some effect on you, so it was understandable that I had felt drawn to him when he showed up and saved the day. At least, that’s how I justified it to myself. But hanging on to him, watching over his shoulder as he’d effortlessly ridden my motorbike back into town had been as sexy as hell. He was as sexy as hell, and I had felt far,fartoo comfortable touching a man I’d known for only a few days.
I’d been eighteen, literally, the day Adam and I first got together. He kissed me the night of my eighteenth birthday, and from that moment on, despite the avalanche it triggered, we were a couple. Before that, beforehim, there had been nothing but teenage crushes, stolen kisses and tentative hands fumbled underneath clothing at parties. He hadn’t even been on my radar before that night, then suddenly he was my boyfriend. My fiancé. My husband. All within the space of a year. I thought I loved him, the way a teenager thinks first love will last forever, that no one has ever felt that way ever before, could ever feel that way again.
But it was a weird version of love that we had. One born out of guilt and regret. Because if we weren’t together, then it had all been for nothing. He was the only person in the world who understood that. It was a silent understanding between us. We never spoke about it. Maybe we should have, I’d thought so many times since he’d left. Maybe we wouldn’t have spent a decade hating ourselves, and resenting each other.
18
JACK
The community center was already bustling with people by the time I arrived, but I found a vacant aisle seat in a row near the back and settled in, checking my phone to make sure Hannah hadn’t sent any messages of SOS out yet, and to switch the sound off. I had no idea what Celia Hamilton did to people whose phones went off during one of her meetings, and I had no desire to find out either. The woman had a reputation around town as a no-nonsense ball buster, and judging by the way she was with Taylor the other day, the reputation was warranted.
The hall was old and in dire need of renovation. Concrete walls, with small, high windows, one of which was missing a pane of glass. The curtains were navy and ripped in places. The whole place smelled like instant coffee and sweat, thanks to its daytime use as a dance class venue. Sunlight streamed inside and dappled the floor with warm, yellow light, and the breeze that wafted through the open doors was gentle and caressing, though not particularly refreshing. I felt beads of sweat already start to form in the center of my back.
At the far end of the room, a long table had been set up. Several of the town’s art council members were already seated at the table, talking among themselves while they waited for their esteemed leader to arrive. Another table was set up along the side wall, with jugs of ice-cold water, a coffee urn, mugs and teabags and small jugs of milk.
‘Is this seat taken?’
I smiled at the sound of her voice, relieved that she was still in town. She hadn’t come down for a swim at all the last three nights, and if it wasn’t for the fact her motorbike was still parked in the garage – I knew because I kept taking the long way off the property, just so I could check – I would have been sure she’d upped and left and gone back to the city without even saying goodbye.
‘So, youarestill here,’ I said, moving my leg so she could scoot past to the empty seat.
She picked up the printed agenda that someone had laid out onto every seat and sat down. ‘Were you worried I’d left?’
‘A little,’ I admitted. ‘It’s been really quiet at the pool at night.’
‘Aw, you missed me,’ she said.
‘Weird, I know, considering how annoying you are.’
Her mouth dropped open, and I laughed at her outraged expression. ‘I amnotannoying,’ she said.
