Julian
Driving. The other way I find peace, when I don’t want to risk being found. I’ve been driving through Bellsby—same main street, same side streets, round and round—since this morning. Since my past decided to have an unwelcome collision with my present. Music up, windows down, clean ocean air cleansing the dust from my system.
Now it’s dusk, and I’m running low on gas and tunes.
My phone has been going nonstop. I had to shut off the ringing of calls and the buzzing of texts to avoid blasting my music to block them out, but I’ve still seen the screen light up from the passenger seat. People in my life know I do this; wander off for a few hours when I need space to clear my head, but I haven’t been gone for this long before. I would’ve responded by now, a simpleI’m fineto get them off my back for a while, but there’s just one problem with that now.
Camille is here.
I don’t want my well-being getting back to her. She doesn’t need to know.
I can see the beach from here, slivers of water peeking through trees and between houses. My board is still attached to the roof of my Jeep. I could ride the waves.
Or I could let Reyna ride me.
I almost pass Wallaby Park Road before swinging left at the last second. My Jeep swerves onto the street, and I straighten out with a sigh. I guess I have one more stop. Wallaby Park leads to Innes which leads to Reyna.
Before I make it to her street, I see her. She’s walking the sidewalk, her back to me, at a languid pace, hugging herself. I know her body, and I know that language. She’s comforting herself as much as she’s trying to keep warm. The temperature’s going down with the sun, and she’s wearing another dress. I smile as I press the gas, thinking how much I want to take it off of her again. Sex with Reyna is a good way to start the day, but it’s also a good way to end it.
As I pull into the left lane to get closer, my headlights hit her back, causing her to stop and turn around. I pull up next to her and shut off Death Cab for Cutie.
“Looking for me?” I flash a smile and flick my brows.
She laughs and drops her hands to her hips. “Something like that, yeah.” She steps off the curb and comes to my window, diving in with the questions and worry. “Where’ve you been? You weren’t at any of our places.”
I don’t want to be found until I do.
“You should let Tommy know you’re okay, too.”
I’m not okay. Far from it. But I know what she means. I’m alive. I’m breathing. Like Camille—alive and breathing. It wasn’t her Tommy found in the obituaries, it was her brother.
Fuck.
I will Camille out of my thoughts as much as possible by concentrating on Reyna, the steadiness of her green eyes, the strands of hair that brush against her cheeks as she leans down at me. I let myself have one more thought:She doesn’t know.Tommy hasn’t told her about Camille being back—is she back?—because if he had, she would’ve said something to me by now. I’m still in the clear. Maybe Camille got the message when I slammed the door on her arrival and she left again.
I mentally cross my fingers, keeping my actual fingers flat against my legs. A half-assed commitment.
“Yeah,” I say, having yet to decide if I should or not.
“We’re not doing a very good job of helping you through this, are we?”
I look away from her sad smile. “You’re helping,” I confirm with a slow nod at the windshield. “But it’s not your job.”
“Yes, it is,” she says, leaning closer to emphasize her point. “Your problems are our problems. We love you.”
I try not to flinch at the word, and the effort makes me give no reaction at all. She saidwe, which helps soften the blow, but it still doesn’t make hearing it any easier. The saying is wrong. Being loved, at least by someone you’re close to, doesn’t give you strength, not if you can’t return the love. It throws off the dynamic, breaks what once was whole.
We’re going to break.
I can’t think about that now.
What I can do is understand Tommy more. Maybe he’s not chickenshit when it comes to Reyna. Maybe he just doesn’t want to lose her.
It’s both, I decide before poking Reyna’s dimple.
She laughs, deepening the crease. “What if that disappears one day?”
I relax my head against the headrest with a lazy grin. “I don’t think they can.”