Then, through the blurry water, I see them. Hunter, Nash, and North. They stand among the crowd on the dock, faces void of emotion. “We thought you were different, Sloan,” Hunter says. The lack of warmth in his tone is more chilling than the water. “But you’re just… too much.”
Nash shakes his head, disappointment etched on his face. “We can’t be part of your delusions, Sloan. Why would I want to share you if I can have whoever I want for myself.” They turn their backs to me, each one a wave that pushes me deeper.
“Please,” I whisper, my voice a broken bubble rising to the surface.
“Maybe you’re not a gold digger, but that doesn’t change that you’re a crazy whore.” North’s voice cuts through the air, his words the final anchor dragging me down.
The weight of their rejection and the cold embrace of the ocean claim me.
I’m alone beneath the waves.
I bolt upright in bed,skin slick with sweat, my heart pounding. The remnants of the nightmare cling to me, leaving a sour taste of fear and rejection in its wake. I look around, confused, and remember we went back to Hunter’s room after the beach, and I let the brothers talk to each other for hours before my eyes got heavy, and I drifted off to sleep.
Hunter is lying next to me, still dressed like I am, deep in sleep, breathing softly. The faint light of dawn filters through the window, signaling the start of a new day.
I’m panting, not getting enough air, feeling like I’m still drowning. I’m holding my chest, where it feels it has been rippedopen when a shiver runs down my arm. I turn to see Saylor looking at me with concern. “Bad dream?”
An overwhelming urge to flee washes over me. I need space and air. A chance to breathe.
I need to breathe.
Wordlessly, I slide off the bed and exit the room, gently closing the door behind me.
“Where are you going?” Saylor’s voice follows me, but I offer no reply as I hastily slip into my sneakers at the coat rack. I reach for my jacket but halt at the sound of a creak, abandoning it in favor of getting out of the house unnoticed.
“Slo, it’s cold and early. Where the hell are you going?” Saylor’s voice rises with concern, but I’m already moving, my steps quick and directionless, driven by an urge to outrun the lingering shadows of my nightmare. The cool morning air offers a slight reprieve, but my heart still feels heavy, racing out of my chest.
“Slo, stop. What the fuck? Sloan!” Saylor’s calls grow more insistent, but I break into a run, pushing my body to its limits.
I need to get away.
“Where the fuck are you running to?” Saylor is still behind me, not panting one bit while my lungs burn and my side cramps with pain.
I eventually reach an unfamiliar part of the beach, marked by a statue and surrounding benches, the sky lightening with each passing minute. I stop, unable to run any further, hands on my knees, breaths coming in loud, ragged gasps.
“Sloan, what are you even doing?” Saylor demands, stepping in front of me.
“I don’t know, Saylor. I don’t fucking know,” I exclaim, straightening up. “I just know I need to leave here.”
“Where exactly do you think you’re going? What happened all of a sudden? Everything was fine yesterday,” Saylor exclaims, a mixture of confusion and concern etching his features.
“That’s the fucking problem! It’s all too good, too perfect, and it terrifies me,” I shout, my voice tinged with hysteria, even to my ears.
Saylor’s brows furrow in bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”
“Idon’t know, okay? I just… fuck! We need to get out of here, Saylor,” I plead, tears freely streaming down my face. “We can start over somewhere around here. Just you and me, like we initially planned.”
I can admit to myself how in love I am with all the Jones boys. What I can’t allow myself is to be hopeful that this could have a happy ending for me.
“If I could, I would shake some sense into you right now.” Saylor scowls, his frustration evident, causing my stomach to clench even tighter. “I know you’ve been hurt, Slo, and you needed time to get over it. And I was all for them to make it up to you. Because they fucked up badly. But now, you’re running away just when things are getting real? Because you’re afraid that the walls you’ve built around yourself are falling?”
“That’s not it! What we have is real, too, and I’m not running away from you,” I retort, my voice weak, my protest feeble.
Saylor scoffs, his voice laced with sarcasm. “You let me in because I’m safe. There’s no need for barriers with me because there’s already one that might never disappear, and you know it. You have to fucking pull your big girl panties on and let someone in, Slo. You always talk about how alone you are, but you’re the one keeping it that way by shutting out everyone who tries to get close!”
“That’s not fair,” I protest, tears cascading down my cheeks, “I only pushed them away because they’ve hurt me so much.”
“People make mistakes. That’s what life’s about. Without change, without failure, we’re just dead.” Saylor states, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re all alive. Hell, evenIam alive. Fuck the mistakes, fuck the failures. As long as your heart is beating, there is time to get your shit together and be happy. Let them make you happy.Let them in, Slo. They’ve earned it, and so have you. If yesterday taught me anything, it’s that it’s far worse to lose everything while you’re still alive. So stop sabotaging yourself.”
