“He knows, Hunter. He doesn’t hold it against you,” Sloan reassures him.
“It hurts so much because I lost my best friend that day, and two years later, I lost the friend who stepped in for you, who kept me afloat. I-I was too weak to handle it all on my own, even though I should have come and been there for you.”
I want to tell him that hewasthere, that he was the reason I didn’t go insane from being all alone for so long because he still acknowledged me, thought about me, talked with me, and stillmissedme. But I can’t seem to speak around the lump in my throat.
Sloan’s voice is gentle, “You were there. He was with you every day. He told me about how he always hung around you guys, watching over Lio, listening to your conversations, hanging out with you during movie nights.”
I can’t help but chuckle despite the ache in my heart. “I did. And just so you know, Nash’s movie choices are getting progressively worse.” I shake my head in mock exasperation.
“Although he’s not too thrilled with Nash’s movie selections,” Sloan adds with a light snicker, trying to bring a bit of levity to the moment.
“Right? Oh my God…” Hunter manages to laugh through his tears. “You have no idea, Say. That guy is so into chick flicks now. I’ve got no one to watch action movies with anymore.”
Hearing him like this, responding to my thoughts as if I’m right there in the conversation, it’s a bittersweet feeling. For a moment, it’s as if the barrier between us thins, allowing us to connect.
She allows us to connect.
The longing in my heart is overwhelming, a deep-seated yearning that’s been gnawing at me for seven long years. Tears stream down my cheeks, the emotion too intense to contain. “You should have taught him better,” I jest, half-jokingly, half-seriously, my voice watery.
“He says it’s your fault. You should have taught him better.” Sloan smiles sadly at me.
Hunter, wiping away his tears, manages a wry smile. “Bro, I was too busy trying to keep him from getting a new STD every week.” His voice is a mix of humor and exasperation, a throwback to the times we used to rib each other mercilessly.
I can’t help but let out a loud, unexpected laugh. Hunter looks at Sloan again, who’s trying to suppress her laughter, her nose scrunched up adorably. “That was too much information.”
“Sorry,” Hunter apologizes, but his eyes are dancing with mirth.
“No, I’m sorry, we should have done this much sooner. I should have let you talk to each other way sooner. I’m so sorry, I was… scared. But I’m more than happy to be your voice now, Saylor.”
I know what it costs her, where she came from, what this means.
“Thank you,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
With the sound of the waves in the background and the fading light of the sunset, it feels like I’m part of Hunter’s world again.
I have wished for this for seven years.
Andshegave it back to me.
THIRTY-TWO
I’m drowning.
Gasping for air, I tread water in the ocean just off the harbor of Lubec. The water is pulling me down, and my arms are getting weak. The faces on the dock blur into a distant, uncaring horizon, each etched with judgment and fear. Their whispers reach me like distant echoes, “Weird. Strange. Crazy…” The labels hover over the water, a chorus of condemnation. “She should be locked away,” someone yells, their voice a distant rumble.
“It’s a sin! She made them sin!” The accusation stings, and I gasp, swallowing water. My arms flail, desperately seeking something to grasp, but there’s only open water.
“We should have never let her in.” Tim’s voice rings out from the harbor. Beside him is Tally, cradling her belly, her eyes scornful and distant.
“She tricked me into believing she had a gift, but she’s just cursed.”
“I thought you were my friends,” I cry out, my voice barely more than a gurgle as the ocean swallows my words.
“Why would I be friends with someone crazy? Ghosts,” she scoffs out, her voice faint and dismissive.
The urge to fight and survive clashes with the overwhelming sense of abandonment.
I knew nobody wanted me here.
