Page 70 of The Lightkeeper

Her heavy nod was all I needed to know that she needed some fresh air right now, too. She went over to Lauren, the two of them talking softly for a second before the other girl nodded, releasing Lou on a break.

The weight of her unfinished story hung like a low cloud as we walked down Maine Street. We passed the Stonebar Farmsshop, and I caught sight of Nox inside. Lou walked a little faster so he didn’t see us. Then there was the chocolate shop, the scent of sugar fused to the air that rushed out when the door opened. Next, we passed the inn. The old building was set back behind a row of lampposts that stood like iron sentries along the fence. Another block of silence, and we reached Kit’s gallery.

Lou unlocked the door and let us in, but she didn’t turn on the bright lights. Instead, only the muddied daylight streamed in from the big window, its fingers barely stretching to the back of the room.

We wandered in separate directions from the entrance. Her to the back to set the case with the new drawings on the desk near the far wall, and me to the giant storm painting I’d stopped in front of before. Somehow, the painting looked entirely different.

The two waves that crashed into the lighthouse tower from both sides were no longer waves; they were the two traumas he’d endured. Unlike the other paintings, there was no sign of the town in the periphery. No lights. No trace of civilization.Because he was alone.Kit was the lighthouse—a lone, battered sentry at the edge of the world. And the light… my jaw went slack. There was no light shining from the top of the lighthouse. How had I not seen it before?

My hand went to my chest and then slid up to my throat.No light.Just the tower. Just a hollow shell.Like he believed there was no life left for him.

“I’ll never forget her scream,” Lou continued softly next to me. My hand went to my face, feeling the damp remains of tears I hadn’t even felt fall. “This was the second time Mom got that call. The first time… I can’t say she was prepared because I don’t think you can ever be prepared for a call like that, but she was… braced. Kit was overseas. Fighting in a war. She knew the risks. We all did. But this time…”

There was no bracing.

“He was home. Healed. Safe. He was just going to an art gallery. No danger in that, right?” She let out a broken exhale. “Thank God, Jamie was there. He held her and took the phone. He listened to the rest. He told us what happened. Got us in the car. Got us to the hospital.”

Now, I didn’t bother to wipe the tears that flowed down my cheeks or try to steady the broken inhales that ebbed into my lungs.

“He had so much blood loss, they told us they weren’t sure he was going to make it—he almost didn’t make it. Again.” Her shoulders started to shake, and so did mine, and without thought, I turned and hugged her.I wasn’t sure how long we hugged, standing in the middle of her brother’s paintings, caught up in the aftermath of his own storm.

“We almost lost him twice, Aurora,” she finally said softly, and we pulled apart. “And now, every time he’s hurting… every time he pulls away… it’s like that moment all over again. Like we’re losing him all over again.”She looked at me desperately.“How do we stop losing him?”

My jaw went slack. How was I supposed to answer that? To know? Pain lanced through my chest, and a small cry pushed from my lips. I didn’t even know how to stop myself from losing him.

“Lou, I don’t know?—”

“You’re the only person he hasn’t run off from the lighthouse,” she revealed. “The only person who… unsettles him. Who gets behind all the walls he’s put up.”

“No, I don’t?—”

“He’s never come to the house for dinner when anyone other than family has been there. He’d never care—never bother to know whether it’s called a sea star or starfish if it weren’t for you. He never would’ve done any of these drawings—anything other than his seascapes…” She exhaled loudly. “He only came to our party because of you. And the way he watched you in the kitchen with our cousins… he let you stay with him after the fireworks. You’re the only one he didn’t push away.”

“He tried.”

“Did he?” She charged.

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.Had he tried?No. When I thought about it, he hadn’t. Not really.

“You’re the only one who’s reached him, Aurora,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “How do we reach him, too?”

I swallowed over the lump in my throat, my mind spinning to try and weave together what seemed like an answer to an impossible question.Did I know how to fix this? To help him?

My mind flipped through what I knew.He loved his family. I knew he loved them. I watched him endure pain and discomfort, risk ripping open old wounds, just to see them happy. And I knew he loved the lighthouse.It’ssolitude and solace.

But I didn’t know about healing from trauma or PTSD. I didn’t know—I sucked in a breath, my gaze catching on the framed drawing of the sun star that hung brilliantly in the center of the wall behind Lou.

And then I thought about how sea stars regenerate. How the miraculous creatures could lose more than a limb—how they could lose everythingbuta limb and regrow the entirety of their being.

“Did you know when sea stars regenerate a lost limb, they don’t grow it from the inside out? They start by recreating the farthest tip of the lost arm and then slowly filling in the middle part—slowly extending that tip farther and farther away from the body,” I said quietly, knowing this probably sounded like it was coming out of nowhere to her, but Kit had lost a piece of him—a piece he was trying to grow back.

“I didn’t know that.”

Maybe that piece wasn’t long enough yet to comfortably… safely… connect to the people who loved him.Maybe he couldn’t reach them yet.But that didn’t stop them from coming to him.

“Why don’t you come to the lighthouse for dinner?” I rasped, the idea blurting from my mouth. “On the fifteenth.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

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