Page 26 of Tides That Bind

The ocean or surfing never took away all my problems. But what they did do was give me a minute away from them. No matter what, I’d get back onto the shore a little clearer headed, a little less angry.

And now all I want is just to feel a little less devastated.

But no matter how hard my mind talks me into it, I can’t bring myself to get into the water. It’s been weeks, I think. Weeks of sleeping beside it, eating beside it sometimes, staring at it from The Shack and hearing its waves through the wall of my office where I’ve been staying. Because I can’t go home, not when I’m the reason the house will never be Nate’s home again.

There’s no way I can go and face Harper, who no longer has a husband. Or Lucas, who no longer has a father. Not when it’s my fault.

Tears start to sting my already strained and red eyes and I wipe at them with my left hand. The Velcro of the splint scratches my skin, but I don’t care. It’s a welcome irritation. Anything other than feeling like I want to crawl out of my body is welcome. I curse, trying to move my legs forward, trying to get to the water, but I only take a step.

“Riley?”

I shut my eyes and hang my head.

“Not again, man.”

Finn doesn’t meannot againbecause he doesn’t want me in the water. Finn says it because he means he doesn’t want to have to drag me out of it again like the day of the funeral.

“Riley!”

I’m running, but I can’t out-run Finn while he drives.

“What are you doing?”

I ignore him, ignore the people who stare as I get to the Boulevard, which is only a few blocks from the cemetery I just ran out of like a bat out of hell. My feet burn, they ache from these shoes. My skin overheats in these pants, the button up dress shirt suffocates me. Everything that Caroline bought and left for me to wear feels so wrong.

But everything about this day is wrong.

Nate in a coffin, is wrong.

Harper crying, sobbing into Lucas's back is wrong.

But what made me flee the funeral, where I had stood in the back until I approached the coffin, was Lucashappyto see me.

Nothing could be more wrong than that.

Finn calls me again as I cross the Boulevard without looking. One car’s breaks screech. Another honks at me. I almost trip hopping up to the boardwalk flanking the west side of the street. I don’t wait for a break in the shops to get to the beach. I run through the coffee shop’s street-side door, nearly knocking over a barista before I rush through the door leading to the boardwalk and hop down onto the sand.

I don’t hear Finn calling anymore. If he is, it’s drowned out by the ocean.

Or my sobbing.

The beach is empty like it would be on any other chilly, cloudy winter day. I’m grateful no one is in my way, that there’s no barricade between me and the surf when I finally meet it.

It’s cold.

But nothing—not even the fresh water of the Arctic—will ever be as cold as the water that night.

The plaster of my cast begins to soften and my hand starts to ache as I slam the water with each stroke. My clothes weigh me down. But the soaked fabrics and hurt is no match for how heavy and painful my heart is.

“Riley!”

Finn’s voice comes in and out, but I keep swimming, dipping below crashing waves until I’m beyond the break.

“You son of a bitch,” Finn screams. “If you think I’m letting you kill yourself out here you’re wrong.”

His voice becomes clearer now, and I don’t know how he caught up to me so quickly. I keep paddling even though my body grows heavier, my strokes less powerful even in calmer waters.

Finn grabs me by the back of my shirt. “Get out.”

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