Page 74 of The Lightkeeper

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Gigi maneuvered to the open chair in the room. Meanwhile, Aurora sank onto the floor between Lou and Frankie like it was the most normal thing to have a picnic inside a lighthouse.

“Thank you, but I don’t really remember her,” she admitted.

“Your dad never remarried?” Frankie wondered.

There was space on the floor near the corner of the room by Mom and Violet, but I chose to stand near the edge of the counter instead. Not because I was worried about sitting over there, but because it was farther from Aurora.

Her midnight curls bounced as she shook her head, swallowing her bite before gushing, “Oh, no.” She smiled. “My dad loved my mom beyond… understanding. She was… his world. Whenshe got sick and passed, a part of him died with her, and after, he threw himself into science.”

Mom hummed, Aurora’s words striking a chord. “When you lose someone you love, you throw yourself into anything… anyone… who will distract you from what you’ve lost.”

“Once she was gone, that was it—I was it for him, and it’s always just been the two of us since.”

“That’s lovely,” Mom said, trying to carefully swipe a tear from her cheek, and I knew she was thinking about Dad. “Heartbreaking but lovely.”

“Where does he work?” Lou wondered as we ate.

“At Tufts University. He’s a professor.”

“Is that where you want to work when you finish school?”

“Oh, no.” She smiled. “While that would be fun, I don’t really want to work in a school setting. I want to be…”

“In the wild,” I heard myself finish for her before realizing I’d been about to speak.

“In the wild in Boston or in the wild here?” Frankie asked, the innocence in her voice so manufactured it was impossible not to hear it.

“Francesca,” Jamie warnedlike she was twelve instead of a newly-minted twenty-seven.

“What? I’m just wondering what her plans are when the semester is done,” she returned and then slid me a look. “I’m sure I’m not the only one.”

At no point had I felt a sense of panic. Of dread. No band around my chest or ringing in my ears. No elevated pulse or the chill of sweat. At no point had the darkness crept in with its blanket of fear until now… when Frankie brought reality to the forefront of my mind.

That Aurora’s semester was going to end in a month, and then what? Would I let her leave? Would I beg her to stay?

“I’m open to anything,” Aurora answered without a hiccup. “The kind of research position I want isn’t too common. There are some companies in Boston and then all along the coast of Maine, but I think…” She rolled that bottom lip through her teeth, thinking over her next words carefully before speaking them. “I guess it will ultimately depend on who’s willing to have me.”

Me.The word surged through my veins as though it had replaced my blood.Me. I wanted to have her. To keep her.

In an instant, I imagined the room without her. Without the orange and vanilla scent. Without her books overtaking my desk. Without her specimens lining my walls and counters. Without her enveloping curiosity. The warmth of her in my bed. And the light in her eyes when she looked at me.Her light. Everywhere.

Air vacuumed into my lungs so loudly—the thought so painful—it drew the attention of the entire room.

“Well,” Frankie forged on, simultaneously saving me from the attention and skewering me with hope. “I hopesomeonearound here wants you because we like having you around.”

Fucking Frankie.

“And how about you, Frankie? You think someone around here will like having your trouble around?”

She stuck her tongue out at Jamie.

“Chandler,” Gigi blurted out and pointed her fork at Frankie.

Frankie groaned. “Yes, my candles want me, and my candles are all I need,” she quipped with a smile, but there was something sharp in her words. Not like a knife but like a pin. Something tiny and subtle that both held her together but barbed at anything or anyone who got too close.

“It’s not the candles.” Gigi shook her head but went back to enjoying her dinner.

Lou grinned and shook her head.

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