We grab beers and burgers at a hole-in-the-wall spot near the hotel and eat quickly so we can catch the sunset. The drive takes us over another bridge, and we roll down the windows as we pass through Fort Stevens State Park; the smell of ocean breeze and damp driftwood fills the air.
When we step onto the beach, the skeleton of Peter Iredale’s shipwreck sits like a cathedral of rusted ribs, half-buried in the sand and dramatic against the dying light. The jagged beams and corroded plates feel both mournful and strangely beautiful.
It’s low tide, so the wreck is fully exposed. We take off our shoes and socks and walk until the sand feels cool and solid beneath ourfeet. The water softly laps at our toes, a slow, steady roar as the waves break onto the shore. The sky is ablaze along the horizon. We find a flat log to sit on and let the wind blow the hair from our faces.
“This is perfect,” I say.
Jay nods, his eyes fixed firmly on the ship. For a while, we just sit side by side, our toes in the sand, listening to the ocean breathe. His shoulder brushes mine; the warmth of his body seeping into mine.
After a few minutes, Jay points at the rusted metal and asks, quietly, “Have you ever felt stuck like that?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, not sure where this is headed.
“For years, I’ve felt frozen,” he says. “With Ray, I settled into this numb routine. I stopped growing. It was a mundane existence, caring only about work and living in survival mode. In Florida, when we were talking and laughing, that was the first time I’d felt normal in ages.”
“I get it,” I tell him. “After you were gone, and I had to hide, I shoved everything down so deep I couldn’t feel anything. All the milestones we should have celebrated together, like prom and graduation, were just a blur. Not having you there nearly wrecked me.”
Jay scoots closer and rests his head on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “I wish I’d been there.”
I sigh. “Me too. But we’re here now and we work with the cards we’ve been dealt.” My voice is gentle; I don’t want to push him farther than he’s ready to go, so I gently probe. “You said you felt stuck. What do you think would unstick you?”
He laughs, a small, bitter sound. “I have no idea. I’ve buried things so deep I’ll need a damn shovel to dig them up. And I’m scared of what I’ll find.”
“It’s not easy,” I tell him. “I had to do the same. But the other side is worth it.”
“How’d you do it?” His face is open and amazed, as if I had cracked some code.
“A therapist,” I respond. “She helped me confront things I didn’t want to face. I’d leave sessions so furious I’d go to the gym or break things. There’s a smash room in Brooklyn where you can take a baseball bat to glass. It helped.
“I’d been self-medicating for a long time with drinking, doing drugs, and lots of sex—anything to avoid the pain. I thought I was free, but I’d ended up in a different kind of cage. One morning, when I couldn’t get out of bed, I decided I was done being miserable.”
He’s quiet for a while. “That makes sense. I’ve never thought of it like that before, like being stuck in a cage. I know how this sounds, but part of me feels like I deserved the things Ray did.”
That’s the dangerous lie I want to tear out of him. I turn to him, my voice firm and direct, looking him straight in the eye. “I want you to hear me and let this sink in deep: you did not deserve any of it. Ray’s bullshit opinions don’t control your life anymore. Listen to me and the people who truly care about you. I see you, and I know who you really are.”
Jay’s eyes are wide, staring at me with the same longing I feel from my head down to my toes. The air between us is charged, thick with desire. His plush, pink lips are begging me to lean in and take them. And God, I want to. But I know I can’t, not yet.
I cradle his face with my hands, the look of expectation flashing across his blue eyes, before I dash his hopes. “I want to kiss you right now so badly, b…Jay,” I stumble over my words, stopping myself at the last second before Baby spills from my lips. “But I’m going to stop myself for both our sakes.”
His head drops, and his shoulders slump. Shit, this isn’t how I want this to go.
I lift his chin with my fingers. “I’m not rejecting you. You have to know how much I want you. But the last thing I want is to be a rebound. You need time.”
His lips tremble, and a lone tear spills down his cheek. “You’re right.” He drops his gaze and looks at his feet. “I know you’re right. I know how broken I am.”
“Fuck that,” I say, making him look at me again. “You’re not broken. You have damage. But who doesn’t have damage?”
He nods slowly, his shoulders sagging.
Pasting on a reassuring smile, I say what I know needs to be said. “I think for now, we need to just be friends so you can take some time to deal with that.”
“Okay,” he whispers, raking his hands over his face.
He falls silent, only the sound of the tide slipping between us. I can only hope my words seeped into the broken cracks and permeated the wounded spaces inside him.
After a while, he finally speaks. “Can I ask a favor?”
“Of course, anything,” I reply.
