I shove my phone into my pocket and head straight for Ingrid. She’s picking up a shell when I reach her.
“How’d it go?” she asks me.
I hitch a shoulder. “We have to go to the funeral.”
Ingrid frowns. “It’s that bad?”
“They think she has two weeks,” I tell her.
Ingrid’s eyes glass over. “I feel so horrible for Elowyn.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Did she say how your dad was doing?”
“He’s, uh, not around.”
Ingrid narrows her eyes. “What does that mean?”
“It means that he can’t handle the cancer and he’s officially checked out,” I try explaining.
“No wonder Elowyn kept reaching out.” Ingrid sighs.
I guess that makes sense now.
“She wants to get lunch when we get back,” I say.
“That’s a good idea.”
“And,” I continue, grimacing, “she’s been talking to Cash.”
Ingrid whips her head back. “Why?”
“Who the fuck knows,” I grumble.
She reaches for me, pulling me close. “She needs people right now. Especially with your dad suddenly going MIA. Don’t make it a thing.”
Oh, I’ll make it a thing if I have to.
But I keep that thought to myself.
Instead of answering, I kiss her on the beach as the sun settles on the water. She tastes like honey and cinnamon and salvation.
I keep kissing her, memorizing the feel of her lips, the taste of her tongue, the way the heat rolls off her and warms some part of me I didn’t know needed it.
But then, she breaks the kiss and I groan.
“Why, Blondie? Why?”
She laughs softly. “Should we talk about Cash seeing us… having sex?”
I frown. “Do you want to?”
“No,” she rushes to get out. “I just… did you talk to him about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say gently as I run my fingers through her hair.
“What about NYU?” she tries. “Can we finally talk about that?”
