Page 43 of Every Heartbeat After

I told him this trip was important to me, and I meant it. If there’s any chance that this is going to be the last time I come here, I have to make the most of it. Have to imprint everything on my heart so I can never forget this place, no matter how far I go. So I can never forgetthem.

I spend the morning in the water, till my fingertips are prunes and I’ve found two partial sand dollars. Then, freshly showered and rose-colored from the sun, I drive to the sandwich shop thirty minutes away where Dad used to insist on dragging us at least twice each trip. I eat a Baze in his honor—their specialty chicken salad sandwich with banana peppers and some secret sauce I can’t identify—but dip it in their homemade ranch for Mom. After a quick trip to the street market near the boardwalk, something Mom always loved to meander on good weather days, my collection of rings is freshly topped off with a mother-of-pearl piece that she would adore.

I soak it all in. Then spend an hour on my balcony trying to imagine what life would look like without it. Maybe I could move abroad. Work as a sherpa in Nepal, despite how much I loathe hiking. Or move to California, where there’s endless sunshine to enjoy without any of the humidity. It’s hard to pick a destination when I have no idea what I’m truly seeking. Freedom from my past, maybe? A hard restart? Some metaphorical equivalent of slapping the computer so it stops glitching and instead becomes something you can depend on. Unbroken and functional once more.

There’s a fine line between continuing my restless wandering and finally seeking the path meant for me. And boy, do I walk it like the tightrope it is.

A distant banging pulls me from this reverie. I blink back the haze of tears I hadn’t realized were falling and peer over the railing, half expecting to find Mo and the maintenance crew messing with something on the deck below that leads to the water. Just then, the banging sounds again, only I realize now that I’m focusing that it’s coming from inside my room.

As I pass it, I kick the tray from last night’s room service under my desk, then grab my bra from the back of the armchair and stuff it into the cushions. The key will be not to forget it, otherwise it’ll make for quite the shock of Magdalena’s life when she cleans my room next.

I’m breathless by the time I yank open the door to find Kit with his hand braced on the frame above it. The slopes and sinew of his muscular arm loom over me, and the sleeve of his tee rides up, bulging at his shoulder. I attempt to gulp quietly as I avert my gaze only to meet his where it rests on my face.

“Hey.” The word takes effort from him that I didn’t expect. He grins sheepishly. His hair is damp, his scent fresh and strong. The crook of his once-broken nose is accentuated by the dark purple bags beneath his hazel eyes. One look at him and all the anger I’d been feeling at him for avoiding me slowly packs its bags and slips out the emergency exit of my brain. He’s hurting; that much is apparent.

I step to the side and sweep an arm toward my room. “You want to come in?” The door opens into a living area with a desk, armchair, and fold-out couch that I always slept on when I came with my family. Plenty of places for us to sit without the temptation of sharing a bed.

He doesn’t bother tearing his gaze from mine. Not even when he dips his chin in resignation. “No, I won’t impose. I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving tomorrow. Not permanently or anything. But I—” White teeth flash as he bites down on his lip, interrupting himself. Through the open balcony doors, a breeze rushes in, tousling my hair. He sighs, and I feel the weight of it in my bones. “I’ve decided you’re right.”

“Always am,” I quip. It’s a sad attempt to cover up my disappointment. My heartbeat ceases, like a fist has closed too tightly around it to keep on pulsing. “But about what, specifically?”

The corner of his mouth lifts, though I’d hardly call the expression joyful. “I’m going to go see my parents.”

I glance at the gold watch that dangles from my thin wrist. “Right now? How far is that?”

“Not now. Tomorrow. It’s about a two-and-a-half-hour drive, so I’m heading out bright and early. I wanted to give you a heads-up so you didn’t think I just up and left you.”

I’d never think that.

I don’t know where the thought comes from. It flits into my mind like a memory you’d much prefer stayed forgotten. Unwanted. Confusing. Why wouldn’t he leave? I’ve given him every reason to. And yet I never considered the possibility that he might.

I fold my hands over my stomach, suddenly queasy. His gaze tracks the movement. Sometimes it feels like Kit notices everything, even the things I wish he didn’t. Perhaps especially those.

But I notice things too. Like the tension in his shoulders. The nervous dart of his tongue over his bottom lip. And his eyes, so dark now they could hardly even be considered brown. More like the color of a tumultuous sea. The color of something raw and aching beneath the surface.

I think of his outstretched hand as I cracked open the window to my pain for the first time in years. Of how safe it felt when I finally took hold.

“Do you want some company?”

“Right now?” he asks, one brow rumpling his forehead.

“No.” I say it too quickly. Too succinctly. He winces. I shift my weight from one leg to the other and tilt up my chin. “I mean, sure, but I was referring to tomorrow. I could ride with you.”

I have no clue why I’m offering. All I know is that he looks like he’s lost sleep over this already, and if I can somehow make it a tiny bit less nerve-racking by being there, then I will.

All I know is that today, without him, was the first day since arriving where the grief felt close enough to drown me again. So much for focusing on remembering.

Kit captures his shaking head by raking a hand through the nearly black strands of his hair. “Oh, no. That’s okay. I’m probably going to stay the night if they’ll allow it. But I’ll be back on Tuesday.”

I hold up a palm, my brow furrowed. “What do you mean,if?Do they not know you’re coming?”

“Not exactly,” he says, grimacing.

I drop my hand to my side and try pinching my thigh to remind myself it’s not my business. But then I think of how much it sucked today, suffering alone. How much better it was with Kit by my side, even if it felt like a weakness at the time. I shake my head at him. “If there’s a chance you’ll be turned away by your own flesh and blood, I’m not letting you face that alone, Kit.”

Besides, isn’t that what friends are for?

His features soften, some of that heavy stress slipping away tangibly. But he shakes his head once more. “I can’t let you do that. You just told me how important this trip is, and this would take even more time?—”

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