“That man’s a whole snack,” one of them warbles while giving a thumbs up.
Eliza’s eyes are dark chocolate, burning with the same desire. I regret not being behind a closed door, far away from rowdy drunks.
The spell is broken, but every cell in my body vibrates with awareness. I’m not the type to slow down and smell the flowers but my senses are on high alert. My skin prickles against the fabric of my clothes. The taste of the salty water. The soft breeze. The smell of seafood and the ocean. Small bits of life I could have lost if I didn’t survive that day.
We walk in silence, holding her hand to ground myself. Old dark thoughts have begun to resurface since I told her about the heart attack.
“It’s inactive,” she says while crouching near a regular-looking stone at the base of the lighthouse. She fishes out an old key from a box buried under the rock and grins at my obvious confusion. “It’s a small town. It’s no secret where Grayson keeps the spare key.”
“Are you sure? It looks ancient,” I say, peeking inside the dark space.
“You’re safe with me,” she says, holding out her hand. Her words burrow deep in my soul and I’m afraid of how much I want them to be true.
The interior is an empty circular brick tower with a metal spiral staircase climbing to the top. With each step, more distorted shadows sewn out of hidden fears fly out through the crack, clouding my mind. Death would have erased me. All I owned and did. Irrelevant. Scattered ashes. In between the ticks of a clock, I would’ve been gone. Leaving what behind?
On the lantern deck, the wind blows harsher, waves crashing on the rocks, filling the air with a salty spray.
Holding the railing with sweaty palms, unable to keep the panic at bay, I screw my eyes shut.
I was on the brink of death. I refused to accept it. To absorb the enormous significance of it. Same with my whole history with Laura. I have the habit of extracting these thoughts with surgical precision and sealing them tight.
“I almost died.” It’s the first time I’ve said it aloud.
Now that I’ve allowed the thought to slither out of its vault, it grows as dangerous as a fire fueled by oxygen.Walking my sister down the aisle. Adam. Logan. My mother.The doctors and my family urged me to go to therapy. I refused. I wanted to leave it behind, not relive it.
My head drops between my shoulders. Panic loops around my neck, a tight noose, cutting my air.
A small weight presses against my back. Eliza’s arms circle my chest and she locks her fingers tightly over my sternum.
“Breathe with me.” Her voice is soft, soothing. “I’m here with you.” She rests her cheek on my jacket and takes a deep breath. Her chest expands and I fall in sync with her, my head clearing with each exhale.
Bright stars pierce the vast darkness around us and glimmer on the crest of rippling inky waves. It feels like we’re drifting inside a painted glass globe, separated from the rest of the world, with the salty wind rushing past our little island.
I’m here. At the top of a small-town lighthouse.
I am alive.
I’m rattled and ungrounded. An urgent instinct to retreat into myself takes over after being so exposed. I’ve reached my limit of talking about it and Eliza can sense that. When she’s not at the fish shop getting bored out of her mind or doing a quick check on the site progress, she keeps me quiet company.
It says so much about her, when I know she always has questions. She gives me enough space and comforts me with light touches, good food, and foraging trips. Lets me watch her while she works in the shed.
When Saturday night rolls around I’m more or less back to my composed self by the time Eliza waltzes into the living room and my stomach does a peculiar flip.
She’s nervously pressing the fabric of the dress to her sides, and I can’t tear my eyes away from her bare legs. It’s stupid of me to want her to stay. Not that kind of relationship, I have to remind myself. She needs this. To do something fun.
“You look lovely.” It’s an understatement.
The compliment earns me a bashful smile, making her rosy cheeks pop. “I wasn’t sure. I left with few clothes.”
“I can come with you and get the rest if you want.”
“Nah.” She shakes her head. “Most of the dresses were Jared-approved. When my life is back on track, I’ll let Quinn drag me on an Eliza-approved dress shopping spree.” The idea lights a spark behind her eyes, and I takean unspoken vow to put my card down in her name at every clothing store in a thirty-mile radius when that happens.
Twirling in her cute yellow dress that wraps against her curves makes my heart ache for trivial moments I never knew I wanted. Carefree Friday evenings with a pretty girl. A hot summer night in a pub garden, laughing with my friends while she burrows herself under my arm and I hold on a little tighter because she is so sweet and mine, and her eyes sparkle when she looks at me.
“Don’t wait up,” she says giggling. It’s the nervous laugh that’s meant to hide her anxiety.
“I’m looking over some business proposals. I’ll turn in late.” I give her my best impression of casual. “Give me the address. If you need a ride text me.”
