Ellis sniffs a laugh, a slight break in the grief. “He did what he could,” Ellis says. “He didn’t know who he could trust in his department, so we decided it was best if Felix passed along my messages. The sheriff knew I was alive, of course—I’d let him know that pretty quickly. And he and Felix were trying to make arrangements to break the story, playing out different scenarios. Sometimes they’d loop Dad in, but… I asked them all to keep you out of it, Noa.”
“I wish you would have trusted me,” she says. “My life has been hell worrying about you, being gaslit by everyone. You should have just told me.”
“In the end,” he says, “I lost anyway. No matter how hard I fought, they took Felix from me. And Mancini made good on his promise to burn down the Surf Shack.”
“We’ll rebuild,” Noa says, coming to put her arm over his shoulders. “I’m just glad you’re home. I’m glad this nightmare is over. But next time you keep secrets from me,” she warns, “your eye is going to look worse than his.” She points at me, and the three of us burst out laughing.
And it feels good, even if it’s just a moment. A moment to feel real again inside all this tragedy.
As Noa and her brother continue to catch up, I smile, comfortable in the room. More comfortable with them than I’ve felt in my own home for a long while. Although the minute I think about that, I consider Astrid.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell them, and excuse myself back to my room.
Once there, I close the door and pull out my phone, my hands unsteady. It’s barely eight in the morning, but I know she’ll be up. She answers on the first ring.
“Why are you calling and not texting me?” she asks, trying to sound annoyed, but there’s relief underneath it, like she’s been waiting for me to reach out.
“Because I wanted to hear your cranky voice,” I answer, trying to sound casual. But as soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel it—a sharp, hollow ache in my chest, like something important is slipping away, and I can’t hold on. I sink down into the nearest chair.
There’s a beat of silence on the other end before she speaks again, her voice small and uncertain. “Mom wouldn’t tell me what happened last night,” she says. “But I saw the building on the beach burned down. Is that where you’ve been staying?”
“Yes,” I say simply.
“Did someone really set it on fire?”
“Yes,” I repeat.
“That’s so wrong,” she murmurs, and I feel a pang of guilt twist in my gut. She doesn’t deserve to be tangled up in this mess. She’s still a kid. “People around the resort are talking about coming down there to help clean up,” she says. “I’d come too, but we’re leaving today.”
The words land like a punch in my stomach. “What do you mean?” I ask. “Where are you going?”
“Mom said we’re heading to California for the rest of the summerto see Grandma and Grandpa. Wait…” Alarm creeps into her voice. “You’re not coming with us?”
I close my eyes. Of course my mother is running away from this. I’m too old to send away this time, so she’s the one leaving.
“No,” I tell my sister. “I’m sorry, Astrid. I’m not coming with you.”
I hear her inhale sharply, like she’s trying to hold herself together, but her voice breaks anyway. “Why?” she asks, and the question wounds me. “You said we’d have the summer together. You promised, Jamie.”
“I know I did,” I say quietly, hating myself for not being able to keep that promise. “I tried. I really did.”
She starts to cry, and it nearly breaks me. “Listen,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’ll come see you when you get back from California, okay? You can take me to the coldest lake you can find, and I’ll jump in first.”
I try to make her smile, but the words feel hollow. She doesn’t laugh. Not this time. Her voice is small and distant now, barely audible. “I’d ask you to promise,” she says, “but it doesn’t matter. You always break your promises now.”
“Not this time,” I say, my voice shaking with something fierce—something raw. “I promise. I swear to you, I will be the first person you see when you get back to Connecticut. I don’t care if I have to wait on the front lawn for hours.”
She’s silent for a moment. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but when she speaks again, it’s barely a whisper. “Okay.”
A tear slips down my cheek, and I let it fall. I don’t wipe it away. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bad brother, Astrid,” I tell her. “I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.”
“You’re not a bad brother, you idiot,” she tells me. “You’re the best brother and that’s why I’m so mad at you.”
I squeeze my eyes tighter before sniffling and thanking her. “You’re the best pain-in-the-ass sister, too,” I tell her.
“And don’t say you’re adisappointment,” she adds, sounding clearer. “That’s a Dad word. You’re just… messy. Yeah, you’re just a little messy, Jamie.”
I sniff a laugh. “I am,” I agree.
