I tried to unsend that last message, but I can’t remember how to, so ignore it please.
Brawny Man
I’m going to walk back on the beach. Do you want to meet me?
Brawny Man
I think a crow is following me, and I can’t remember where the stairs are, but the sand feels nice.
Brawny Man
Jeremy? Please answer. I’m sorry.
“What the fuck?” I stare at the string of gibberish. “Is he drunk?”
I stand from the couch and walk outside, running down the steps. My bare feet sink into the soft sand, which is surprisingly warm thanks to the hours of sunlight from the day. I should put my shoes on to better protect my foot but fuck it. I need to find him.
Once I reach the packed wet sand, I roll up my pants and look around. Marcus isn’t hard to spot. He’s not even that far from the beach house. He’s sitting in the sand by the water’s edge, his dark hair a tangled mess.
He doesn’t hear me approach. His cheeks are flushed beneath his stubble, and his jeans are pushed up his calves, his long, muscular legs peppered with dark hair that makes my mouth water. He’s on his knees, brow furrowed in concentration, and he seems to be building a sandcastle, though he’s terrible at it.
Finally, he glances up, his deep brown eyes connecting with mine, and I stop when I see the look on his face—something resembling adoration or reverence. It makes my heart ache.
I prop a hand on my hip while I study him. “Having fun, big guy?”
He gives me the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on his face. It’s almost childlike in its exuberance. I grin back at him.
He taps his chin with his finger like he’s thinking. His demeanor is shockingly uncharacteristic of the broody man I’ve come to know. “Yes and no. Yes, because I love the sand, but also no, because I got lost.” He looks back at his sand . . . creation—I wouldn’t call it a castle—and tries to smooth out one of the walls, which has crumbled under his shaky hand.
I frown. “You have a phone, Marcus. How did you get lost?”
He looks puzzled for a minute, still concentrating on fixing the damage. He reaches over and takes a shell from a pile next to his knee and places it against the damp sand.
“Marcus?”
“What?” He looks up quickly, his hair falling over his eyes.
“How did you get lost? Why didn’t you use your Maps app or go back to the road?”
“Oh, I guess I didn’t think to do that.”
Something’s off, and I kneel down next to him, watching him work. When he looks at me again, I notice the red in the whites of his eyes. “Are you stoned?”
“Oh, yes. I am very stoned.”
I sit back, not sure whether to be amused or alarmed because he’s loopy as hell. But it’s also kind of adorable.
“There was this really nice man at the kite store who looked a lot like Leo fromThat 70s Show, except, like, a lot younger. His name was Tommy? Timmy?” He swipes absently at the hair tickling his forehead. “Teddy! His name was Teddy. Really nice man. He said I was uptight.” He looks worried. “Am I uptight?”
I raise my hand. “Hold up. You bought edibles at the kite store from a guy named Teddy?”
He gives me a tolerant look. “No, Jeremy,” he says, likeI’mthe one who just word vomited nonsense. “I bought edibles from the cannabis store. Keep up.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, I can’t imagine why I was confused.” I still don’t understand where kites came from.
He presses shells into the sand. “How did your meeting with Shooter McGavin go?”
“You mean Flash Montgomery?”
