Page 51 of The Golden Hour

“Can I ask you a question?”

There goes my peace.

Shading my eyes, I frown at Finn. “I’m not going to like it, am I?”

“Probably not.”

“Whatever. Go ahead.”

“Why’d you do it? Fake your own abduction, allow your family and the world to think you were dead. It was so…”

“Elaborate? Extreme?”

“Yeah.”

My mood darkening, I sit up and shove my sunglasses back on my face so he can’t see my eyes. Pulling my knees to my chest, I stare at the waterfall.

“I told you about my second cousin, who was killed for being gay? Well, I had another cousin from that side of the family—this is my great-uncle’s branch, back east in Chicago. I’ve never met any of them. There was some old beef between my grandfather and his brother and the families barely speak. Anyway, my cousin wanted out. She was twenty-one and about to be forced into an arranged marriage. So she ran away with her boyfriend.”

“And it didn’t end well.”

“To put it lightly. She wasn’t stupid about it, either. No credit cards, nondescript car, left her cell phone and jewelry. Even cut off all her hair and dyed it. She could have been home free if she hadn’t called her mom a week later to tell her she was okay.”

“Her mom gave her up?” He’s incredulous, which only proves how differently we were raised. When I don’t answer, he asks more mutedly, “What happened?”

“According to the police report, black ice. Their car went off the road in Colorado.”

“How do you know it wasn’t an accident?”

“My father called me before the car was found. I remember it vividly. I was in my dorm room at Brown, and my roommate Jessica was bleaching her hair. It smelled so foul I had the window open even though it was freezing outside. He said he’d already spoken to Ellie and Lizzie and that I needed to listen carefully. My cousin had betrayed the family and no matter what I heard, I needed to know that what happened was because of that betrayal. When I hung up the phone, I just… couldn’t do it anymore. So I told Jessica I was going to fake my death. She knew enough at that point to know I was serious. It took a year of research and planning. Plus, I’m sure there’s a hole in my heart from all the stress.”

Finn whistles softly. “You have guts, princess. I’m not sure I would have had the same reaction. Or been able to pull it off.”

I stand and stretch a bit. Brush dust from my shorts. Finish my water. Retie my shoelaces. Watch two hikers strip down to their underwear and jump screaming into the pool. And I laugh and clap with the other bystanders, pretending my heart wasn’t just shoved through a meat grinder by admitting all that to Finn.

At eighteen, I didn’t consider the damage my plan would inflict on my sisters or friends. Not that I had many friends. Or any besides Rabbit. But I still thought only of myself, of the life I felt I deserved and the one I didn’t want.

“You ready to head back?” I ask over my shoulder, even though back is the last place I want to go.

“Hey, what you did was amazing.” His low, earnest voice comes from close behind me. “It took incredible courage and commitment.”

I shake my head. “Only vast self-centeredness.”

Finn’s hand on my arm is a shock. Before I can react, he tugs me gently around to face him. I stare blankly at his fingers, still wrapped around my bicep.

“Let go of me,” I say hoarsely.

“Stop doing that.” His face bends toward mine, so close I can see the ring of darker blue around his pupils. “Stop undermining your own success. You got out, Callisto. You did what your cousins couldn’t. You should be proud of that.”

My chest shakes with silent laughter. “If what I did was so amazing, why did I throw it away to come back? I’ll tell you why. Because I never learned the lesson Jessica’s been trying to teach me for years.”

He frowns, hand finally falling. “What lesson?”

“Never kiss the pretty boys.”

I don’t know why I say it. It’s not the whole truth, obviously. But it is true. If I hadn’t met and kissed Finn McCowen, chances are I’d still be in Solstice Bay. Home. Not a whole woman, maybe, shrouded in secrets, chased by nightmares.

But I’d be free.

---