Page 298 of Hide and Keep

It takes a few seconds, but finally, the muscles in her face relax. “What kind of conservationist does that make me?”

I laugh, then press a quick kiss to her lips. “I’m not in need of saving, little bat.”

Taking the hat off my head, I expect her to launch it away from us. Instead, she puts it on hers before paddling ahead ofme. While I’m full-on grinning, I swear she’s got another frown. I just don’t know why.

After spending the day at the beach, we begin the trek back to the Brantleys’ home.

Passing by a couple of kids with a bucket and some shovels, I’m hit in the face with invisible rotten eggs. I’m practically choking on the stench, my gag reflex fully engaged, when I hear Crue say, “Told ya. The sand holds on to it.”

I’ve experienced the occasional sulfur onslaught while driving near salt marshes before, with the windows up to cut some of the potency, but there’s no barrier out here. This is a full-on invasion of my senses.

“How can they stand it?” I gesture to the kids happily building a sandcastle, oblivious to the odor cloud they’ve unleashed with their plastic shovels.

“They’re kids. They probably don’t care.”

“A lot of people around here don’t even notice,” says Phoebe.

“How? How can someone not notice rotten eggs?”

“They just grow accustomed to it. Like people who live near railroads,” Crue’s father says with a shrug.

“Isn’t there a railroad nearby? I heard one last night.”

“Is there?” he asks suddenly, searching around and making me chuckle. Grinning, he says, “I must’ve grown accustomed to it.”

Crue got his sense of humor from him and his caring nature from Phoebe.

“A couple more nights and you won’t hear the train anymore either,” Crue tells me. He’s lugging both kayaks back the same way he brought them here—by himself. Only, he’s shirtless now.

Other girls are checking him out, their gazes glued to his abs like a five-year-old’s craft project, and it’s making me feel very volatile. I want to scream at them to stop eye-fucking my boyfriend. I want to rub stinky sand in their eyes, preventing them from ever eye-fucking him, or anyone, again.

Sadly, I do neither. I already drew enough attention to myself earlier calling out that witch in a straw hat. This is how it will be for us here—Crue and I constantly shrinking ourselves to avoid recognition. I’ve been watching him do it all afternoon, never making eye contact with strangers, never raising his voice, never causing a scene about anything.

On vacations, I would study other families, memorize how they’d behave. Each one was different, no obvious commonalities between them…except one. They were carefree. Some were loud and boisterous while others were quiet and lazy. But they all smiled. They all talked, laughed, interacted.

That’s how the Brantleys were inside their house, but out here, they were anything but carefree. The three of them hardly spoke to each other louder than they would inside a library. They did everything they could not to draw attention to themselves, blending in with the sand almost as well as the crabs discreetly scuttling along the shoreline.

That’s one reason why Crue was such a good bodyguard. He’s proficient at trying to be invisible.

I used to think it was because of his scar. Now I know it’s notjustabout the scar. It’s about hiding his entire identity.

And his parents let him. They enable him. They join him. They had the opportunity to confront someone speaking poorly, not to mention incorrectly, about their son, but they didn’t. They stayed silent, drawing in on themselves to make the family less noticeable as a whole.

I understand why they do it. It would be them against Sea Haven. I just don’t agree with it. Crue’s willing to sacrifice so much for them, but they’re not willing to make sacrifices for him.

Maybe that is their sacrifice. Maybe they had a loud life before that fateful night that forever changed two families. Yasmin’s family lost her, but Crue’s parents lost him, too. And maybe they lost themselves. Maybe Phoebe and Reid are doing all they’re capable of to ensure Crue still feels loved, and has a home, a safe abditory to hide from the world in.

But he should have more. I want him to have more. I want him to have everything. Crue is worth the battle. He’s worth a war.

He’s also worth peace, something I’ll never get knowing he chose me over his dreams. That’s exactly what he’s going to do. In the name of love, Crue will continue to let this town beat him down until there’s nothing left. Pressure may make diamonds, but too much can vaporize them. I can’t sit back and watch that happen. I love him too much. I’d rather sell my soul to the devil—

The devil… The very one in need of a soul right now. And funds to spare.

“What’s that?” I ask. At the end of Crue’s street is a stone pier. There’s a bunch of wooden pillars sticking out of the water around it. It looks like it’s supposed to be for boats but therearen’t any moored to it. There’s a couple holding hands, walking on it, otherwise it’s kind of an eyesore honestly.

“This used to be a shipbuilding area. That’s the old wharf. Nobody uses it anymore though.”

It’s certainly long enough. I’m just not sure about the width. As long as it has a twenty-five-foot diameter, it should work.

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