Page 117 of A Fool's Game

I shrug. “But he’s been saying that for years.”

“You’re not ready?”

“I don’t have a choice anymore.”

“Is that what you’ve been waiting for? A reason to walk away that doesn’t make it look like you gave up?”

I want to punch the guy, but of course he’s right. “Maybe.”

Ainsley says nothing, and I’m grateful for the moment of silence.

And then, wet and cold and ankle deep in the same sea water that I’ve been battling for years, I take what feels like my first full breath in years. And surrender.

“How’d you even get here?” I know he missed the last ferry.

“Bribed some guy at the docks to bring me.”

I nod as he gives the answer I expect. “Is he waiting to take us back?”

“No, but it was pretty easy. We can find someone to take us.”

“Where’s Gem?”

Ainsley shakes his head. “I got her voicemail on the way over and she responded with a picture.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and shows me Gem’s beautiful, smiling face, lit from the right by the golden glow of sunset.

But then I look closer. “Is she on a plane?”

Ainsley looks at me like I’m nuts, but turns the screen back to himself, pinching to zoom the image in and get a closer look at the fabric seat behind her head.

I watch him hit the button to call her without saying a word. It rings on speakerphone, the tone echoing through the damp, quiet basement. When her cheerful voicemail message picks up, we’re both on our feet.

Chapter 39

Taylor

To a stranger, it might look like her room is still full, but Ains and I both know she’s missing. The chair in the corner is missing her favorite sweater. The air is a bit too still, the lingering smell of incense too faint.

We find Marisol in the kitchen.

“It wasn’t my place to tell you.”

“How long have you known?” I ask, frustrated but trying to keep my cool. It’s not Marisol I’m upset with, even if she could have told me at any time.

“My guess is about the same amount of time you’ve known,” is her predictably infuriating answer.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. “You knew this was a possibility, Taylor. You two haven’t talked about it because you both wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening. She didn’t want to hurt you.”

“What are you talking about?” Ainsley chimes in from beside me, looking convincingly confused.

Marisol regards him with narrowed eyes. “Her internship.”

“Oh. But I thought she was applying to places in Seattle,” he says, and I actually start to believe he didn’t know.

“She was. But she was also top of her class,” Marisol tells him. “And she could be snatched up by one of the big New York publishing houses in an instant.”

“But she never heard back from them,” I argue, even as I know it’s a lost cause.

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