My pulse kicks hard. “Oh God.” I grip the phone tighter, a cold dread sliding down my spine. Those songs are pieces of me—hours and days and pieces of my soul. To have them taken from me would wreck me. “If he really tries—if he actually—Brandon, I don’t—”
The words collapse, tripping over each other. Panic sharpens everything: the wind, the cold, the black sky overhead.
“Lily-Anne, listen to me.”
His calm words slow my spiral. I drag in a breath, shaky and thin.
“You won’t face this alone. If he pushes this, we’ll deal with it. Together.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me.
“Okay,” I whisper.
The silence stretches, and my thoughts whip around like a released kite, wild and tangled.
“I’m still at Sean’s,” he says. “But if you’d feel better with someone there, I can be back at the cottage in a few minutes.”
I bite my lip, tempted. I came out here for space, because I needed air, but now that he’s offered…the beach suddenly feels too quiet, too dark. I don’t want to be out here by myself.
“I’d like that—”
A sharppinginterruptsme.
Then another.
Annoyed, I turn the volume down, but of course, it only adjusts the call.
“Lily?”
“Sorry—my phone’s going mad. It’s—”Ping-ping. “That stupid social app Daisy made me download. It’s blowing up my phone.”
“That sounds violent.”
“No, it just means I’m getting a lot of—”
“I know,” he says dryly. “I’m not that old.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry—”
I curse as a string of notifications flash.
“Did something happen?” he asks.
“Not sure,” I mumble, walking slowly along the ramp as I fiddle uselessly with the buttons. “I’ll meet you at the cottage?”
Ping.
“You’re not already home?” Brandon asks. “I thought you said you left the café.”
“Yes. But I went for a walk.”
Ping. Ping.
“Where are you now?”
Ping. Ping. Ping.
“The beach,” I say, irritation pinching my voice as I halt and tap on one of the bubbles.
