I raise a hand in greeting as I get closer. Her hair’s loose around her shoulders, her skin golden in the late-afternoon sun. She looks like every visitor who’s ever come to Wild Rose Point and taken a deep breath for the first time in months.
Except the moment she sees Marshall bounding up the stairs, and me behind him, her expression shifts. Trouble settles over her features again.
“Hey,” I say, stepping onto the porch. “Didn’t expect to see you here still.”
“Yeah.” She shifts awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I was planning on getting out of your way, I just—” She stops. And something in her face tells me the change of plans isn’t minor.
I hook Marshall’s leash over the railing and tap the sand off my shoes.
“You,” I say, “look like you could use a drink.”
She hesitates, then nods. “Sure. Thank you.”
I head inside, grab two beers from the fridge, and return to the porch. I open one and hand it to her before popping the cap off mine.
“So,” I say, lowering myself into the chair beside her. “Want to tell me what’s really going on?”
Chapter 4
SLOANE
To be fair, Ididintend on calling Kerry-Anne first thing this morning for help making a plan to get back to Seattle. I knew she would offer to come get me. I knew she’d be inconvenienced, but she’d rearrange her entire day in a heartbeat if I asked. That’s the thing about Kerry-Anne: she’s loyal to a fault, always ready to swoop in and be whatever kind of friend I need in the moment.
But every time I picked up Ryan’s phone in the quiet of his kitchen, my fingers froze. Kerry-Anne is on my side, obviously. But these last few hours…this strange, suspended break from my real life… It feels like a protective cocoon. And the thought of stepping out of it, even for her, makes something inside me seize.
A walk will clear my head. Then I’ll make the call.
Three hours later, after wandering down the length of the beach until my legs ache and my eyelids beg for an afternoon nap, I still haven’t called. The ocean breeze, the warm sun, the distant cry of seagulls all settle me in a way I’ve never experienced before. Each wave laps the shore and retreats, taking a grain of my guilt with it. A fraction of the anxiety. A sliver of the tightness in my chest I’ve been carrying for…who knows how long? Months?
When I reach Ryan’s porch again, I just…stop. My body sits before my brain can argue. And suddenly I’m perched there, staring over the dunes at the ocean, letting myself drift again.
The steady crash of the waves blurs the minutes together. When Ryan returns home, he’s clearly surprised to see me, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he goes inside briefly and returns to the porch, two bottles of beer in hand. “Want to tell me what’s really going on?” he says.
I do, but I don’t at the same time.
He lets a minute pass. “Good news,” he says. “Coast guard located the speedboat’s owner. Apparently he doesn’t want to press charges. Sounds like you and your fiancé were…well-known around there or something.”
Fiancé. It sounds like a foreign language. And I’m not surprised there will be no charges. The Fordham family practically owns that marina; no one wants to stir up any trouble with them.
“Glad to hear it,” I say instead, and accept the bottle he’s holding out for me. “Thank you for helping with that.”
“No big deal.” Ryan pauses, and suddenly I get the sense that I’m not the only one feeling awkward in this moment, and that it needs to be me who breaks the tension.
“I’m sorry I’m not out of your hair yet,” I say. “My friend wasn’t able to get out here on such short notice.”
“Actually,” Ryan says, scratching the back of his neck, “I’ve been meaning to get to the city to pick up some equipment from the university. I’ve been putting it off, but this is a good excuse. I can drive you tomorrow.”
I hesitate. There goes my grand plan of hiding here and pretending my life doesn’t exist. Probably a stupid plan anyway, and I’m in no position to turn down a ride. I suppose I can always go back, grab a bag, get in my car, and drive somewhere equally remote to figure out my life.
“That would be great,” I say. “You mentioned that there was a hotel in town. I can get a room for tonight.”
For a moment, he hesitates, then clears his throat. “It’s fine with me if you want to stay here again.”
I’m not sure how I would have paid for the hotel anyway, so I nod. “Thank you,” I say.
I open my mouth again to offer help with dinner, but something moves beside him on the deck. A small figure, maybe a foot tall, black feathers, white face, orange beak, red-rimmed eyes.
“Oh,” I say. “We have a visitor.”
