All that matters is that the future means I’m free of the cage I’ve let him keep me in for far too long.
I almost laugh at the absurdity of his threat when I want to be done more than I want my next breath. Instead, I incline my head like this is anywhere near a rational conversation. “Promise?”
“Fuck you, Avah.”
“Never again, Jon.”
I don’t think about my purse or phone or passport as I exit into the tropical night, my bare feet silent on the walkway connecting our bungalow to the main resort. For a moment, I brace for footsteps behind me. For Jon’s hand as it closes around my arm to drag me back inside. But that’s not his MO. He’s never had to chase me down before.
Not when I stayed willingly, convincing myself the next time would be different.
He’ll make me pay for this eventually, but that’s a problem for future Avah. That girl is going to want to throat punch present me.
I’ll take it.
I lift the hem of my silk maxi dress and use the fabric to wipe the blood from my face. It’s going to ruin the dress—a small sacrifice when I’ve just blown up my entire life.
A soft breeze flutters my hair, and I keep one hand on the railing as I move forward, listening to the gentle lap of water against the wooden pilings beneath the walkway. Music drifts toward me from the main beach, along with the low hum ofpeople enjoying paradise with cocktails and laughter instead of bloodied skin and a shattered future. Exhaustion takes hold, and I sag under the weight of keeping up the lies my life has been built on for so long. The engagement ring on my finger is now just a souvenir from my self-hate era.
I should have left the first time he grabbed my wrist hard enough to bruise.
I should have left a lot of times.
The sand is cool under my feet when I get to the beach and sink onto one of the resort’s teak lounge chairs. The stars out here are different from how they appear in my hometown of Skylark, Colorado. They’re closer, like you could reach up and touch them if you just stretched far enough.
A shooting star streaks across the sky, but it’s gone before I can fully register the magic. Mom used to say wishes were for suckers. The only thing that matters is what you can take with you when you go. But she also stayed way longer than I did, so maybe her advice isn’t worth much.
I close my eyes and make a wish.
Please don’t let me become her. Please let me be okay.
When I look up to the sky again, the stars blur, and I realize I’m crying. God, I hate tears. But if there was ever a time to give in to weakness, it’s probably here—alone on a beach in the South Pacific, with no phone and no money, and a man who isn’t going to take this gracefully seething in the proverbial rearview mirror.
I’m tired of pretending and managing and being the version of Avah Harris everyone expects—the sharp-tongued bitch who always has a comeback and never lets anyone see her bleed.
Fat lot of good that did. So I close my eyes and let the darkness take me.
2
AVAH
A moment(or maybe longer) later, I wake to motion and the feel of arms around me. I try to open my eyes, but my head feels like someone’s driven a railroad spike through it.
“Jesus Christ.” The male voice is deep, irritated, and familiar in a way that makes my stomach drop.
“Nope,” I croak. “Just me.”
“What the hell happened to you?”
I open my eyes enough to see a face above me with thick dark hair that curls slightly at his temples, and a strong jaw set in an immutable line. High cheekbones cast faint shadows across the planes of his face. My vision is fuzzy around the edges, but I can still make out the deep brown of his eyes beneath straight brows and the strong line of his jaw set in an unyielding line. His features would be handsome if they weren’t arranged into an expression of epically profound annoyance, like I’m a piece of luggage someone left in his path.
Oh no.
No no no.
Of all the people at this resort.
Of all the people in theworld.
