“It had already been a week before I got access to a phone at school,” he continues. “You should have been my first call, Noa. Instead… I called my father.” He lets out a breath that’s more like a laugh, but there’s nothing funny in it. “He told me the next time I disappointed him would be the last.”
My jaw tightens. “Your father’s a psycho,” I say.
He lets out a low hum of agreement, but there’s no satisfaction in it. “Even so, I should have called you,” he says again, as if I’m being too kind to him. “I knew… I knew I was hurting you. And I did it anyway.”
I don’t say anything. Because what is there to say?
The night Jamie left, he told me he had a plan to move to Cape Hope permanently. He was going to talk to his mother and grandfather. I believed him—I wanted to. After he left the beach, I ran home and told my mother everything. I couldn’t stop smiling. I told her I was in love with him.
And she smiled too. Said she always liked him.
Now the memory cuts deeper. Because she had to watch me fall apart. Had to hold me together, all while she was quietly falling apart herself. How many times did she swallow her pain just to help carry mine?
“You broke my heart,” I say, barely above a whisper. It’s not dramatic. Just… true.
Jamie’s eyes meet mine, and this time he doesn’t look away. “And you’ll never forgive that,” he says, like he’s already decided.
I don’t answer.
It’s not that I won’t forgive Jamie. It’s that I don’t think he’ll forgive himself. And maybe that’s worse.
Because we can never get back what we had. It was carefree, consuming. It was easy and right. But now it’ll always be overshadowed by what went wrong.
We don’t drag it out, this stretch of pain between us. I let it float away, like the tide pulling back into the ocean. Instead, we slip into something easier. Softer. Trying to remember how to be near each other without hurting.
I lean back, and glance at him. “And now?” I ask. “You’re graduated?”
He sniffs a short laugh, the sadness easing off his face. “Online diploma,” he says. “Got kicked out of boarding school.”
I raise my brows, giving him a look that saysThere’s got to be a story there.He sees it, grins faintly.
“Broke a few rules,” he says, waving it away. “Maybe on purpose, I don’t really know anymore. So now I’m back in Connecticut with my parents. With their rules.” He shrugs, and studies the fire. “But I don’t really have anywhere that I belong. At least, nowhere that wants me back.”
I bump my shoulder into his, trying to lighten the frown pulling at his mouth. “So you belong to the streets,” I say, making him laugh. “It’s not so bad. You can live anywhere.”
He seems to think it over. “That’s a good point,” he says. “My parents see college in my future, but I’m not convinced. At least not anymore. And what about you?” he asks. “You still have your friends, the beach. What are you going to do with your life when summer ends?”
I think about it a moment, and sigh deeply. “I wanted to travel,” I start. “Explore the ocean and see all the port towns along the way. It was going to be with my mom. Then… after she was gone, I started charting on my own. That was my plan.” I stop, now thinking about it. “But planschange. Now I’m helping with our business. Now everything’s to keep the Surf Shack afloat.”
Jamie furrows his brow, seeming to think this over. He doesn’t offer any advice. Instead, we sit close together, listening to the crackle of the fire, the hum of voices, the occasional splash of waves against the shore.
“By the way,” he says after a while. “Your dad is still pretending like he barely remembers me.”
This time, I laugh and turn to him. My father has a whole thing where he can never remember Jamie’s name.
“That’s how you know he secretly likes you,” I tell him, and Jamie nods.
The lights of an approaching boat cut through the darkness, and several people around the bonfire turn toward it. The tension starts to rise in the air like the pressure before a storm. I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out who it is. Then my stomach sinks.
“Not tonight,” I murmur.
It’s the Collective.
Jamie doesn’t seem to notice at first, but then his gaze follows mine. When he sees them, his posture shifts, like he’s bracing for impact.
“Do me a favor,” I tell him. “Don’t get involved with whatever this is.”
He motions toward the water. “You can already assume that I will be involved.”
