Page 98 of The Beach Trap

Her cheeks go pink. “Well, yeah. He helped me a lot with getting the house ready.”

“That’sallhe helped you with?” I ask, teasing. Her blush deepens, but her smile widens. “I’m happy for you,” I say.

And I am. The only problem is that seeing her smile—that flush of first infatuation, heading toward love—reminds me of what I’ve lost.

Kat must be thinking the same thing, because she says, “I heard from CoCo that Junior is back in Boston. I’m sorry—I was awful that night. I can’t believe you ended things with him.”

“Of course I chose you—you’re my sister.”

“Sisters?” Kat repeats, like she’s testing out the word.

“That’s what I’d like to be, if you’re okay with it.”

She nods, smiling. “But if you care about Junior, about Noah...”

“Like I said, there’s no way it would work between us.” I pause, overwhelmed with longing, wishing I could rewrite our story so we could, somehow, have a future together.

If we’d had more time together, I could have loved you.That’s what he said. But then he left the very next day, drove back to Boston, back to his real life. So maybe he didn’t really mean it. Maybe it was just a line.

My eyes fill with tears again and I blink them away. I amnotgoing to waste my tears on Noah Rooney. But there’s something about Kat sharing her deepest vulnerabilities with me that makes me feel comfortable sharing mine.

“Sometimes I worry that”—I take a deep breath—“that there’s something about me that makes me easy to leave behind. Not just our dad, but also Noah. He didn’t try very hard to change my mind.”

Kat puts her arm around me—no hesitation—and pulls me close, her bare arm warm against mine. “That’s his loss,” she says, her voice urgent. “But I want you to know something. Other people may come and go in your life—men might come and go. ButIwill never leave you again. I can promise you that. You’re stuck with me from here on out.”

“Thanks,” I whisper, afraid to say anything else because my dam is perilously close to breaking.

I lean against her and she leans against me, and together, we watch the sun set.

•••

Later that night,Kat leaves to visit Henry, grinning from ear to ear. I’m still out on the deck with the dog, wanting to soakup every minute at the beach, even in the dark. Tomorrow, after meeting with the real estate agent, I’ll need to spend the day prepping the Rooneys’ vacation home for their visit over Labor Day weekend.

Noah will be with them, I realize, as he should be. I’m happy that he’s reconciled with his family, but I can’t help feeling wistful over what might’ve been if we’d had more time together. Not everyone is meant to be together forever, and I don’t regret the time I had with Noah.

Still, I do regret not being honest with him about how I felt. I don’t want to protect my heart in a glass case anymore; after my conversation with Kat tonight, I’ve realized that being vulnerable can be freeing.

I pull out my phone and decide to send him a voice text, like he sent me a few days ago. Nervous, I walk down to the beach so I can pace as I talk.

“Hi,” I say when I start recording. “I’m so glad that you’ve been able to reconnect with your family. It probably wasn’t easy, but I’m happy for you. Things here have been strange—there was a flood at our beach house that took a while to get sorted out—but everything’s okay between Kat and me. Better than okay, actually. We still have a lot of lost time to make up for, but I think we’re going to end up with a strong bond after this.”

I hesitate, then push forward. Might as well bare it all.

“So, um, you know what you said that night, the last night we saw each other? About if—if we’d had more time together?” Another deep breath. My heart is pounding, telling me to stop talking, but I’m determined to see this through. “Ditto from me. I mean, I feel the same way. I know that’s not how it worked out between us because life had other plans, but I want you to know that you weren’t alone in—in your feelings. If we’d had more time, I could’ve loved you, too.”

I end the message. My eyes fill with tears, but instead of trying to stop them, I let them run down my face.

There’s no one here but the dog padding gently next to me as I walk, and even though I should feel alone, I don’t. I believe Kat when she says she won’t leave me. Ever. That feels like the biggest, best gift I’ve received in my entire existence.

I walk into the water, letting the waves hit my ankles, then my knees and thighs, wetting the bottom of my cutoffs. Tonight feels like a goodbye—not just to the beach house and to the summer, but to the old me.

But I’m also saying hello to a new chapter in my life; I have a sister now. I’m not alone in the world.

In one swift motion, I yank off my T-shirt and toss it and my phone on the dry sand. Then I dive forward into a wave, letting it roll over me, pull me in a somersault underwater. I stay under until my lungs are screaming for air, and when I burst out of the water I suck in air and roll my shoulders back and let the water wash everything away.

•••

I stay outthere, treading water in my bra and shorts, until I realize the dog is gone. The beach is empty as far as I can see in either direction, and the dog isn’t visible near the house, either.

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