Page 92 of Beauty and the Beach

“Yeah, actually,” she says. “If we have time.”

I’m about to ask her what she wants to do, but Wyatt speaks first. “Why don’t you two take the car, then, and I’ll handle the paperwork here? I need to gather some thingsfrom my office as well, so I’ll get a ride back to the ferry later.”

“That’s fine,” I say vaguely, my gaze still on Holland. Her face is pale, but her eyes are determined, and her lips are set in a stubborn line. I want to ask what’s going on, but I force myself to wait; something tells me she might not want to explain while Wyatt is present.

The second we get in the car, though, I speak.

“Where are we going?” I say.

“Before I tell you,” she says, shooting me a stern glance, “you have to be nice.”

My instinct is to protest that I’m always nice, but then I look more closely at her; she’s wearing a bossy, severe expression, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. In her eyes I find anxiety or maybe even fear—a level of hesitance and vulnerability that have me agreeing before I even realize it.

“Yeah,” I say in a hoarse voice. “I’ll be nice.”

Her shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath. “I think…” she says, trailing off. She wears a faraway look for just a moment, but when she turns her gaze back to me, her expression is clear once more. “Yes. I think I want to go to the river.”

“The river?” I say.

She nods. “The river. The one where—” She breaks off, swallows, and then speaks again. “The one where we crashed.” She pauses as my heart begins to beat faster. “The one where Trev died. I want to go there.”

Holland

Phoenix looks pretty muchas dumbfounded as I expected. To his credit, though, nothing like pity or sympathy enters his eyes; he doesn’t patronize me or discourage me. All he says is “Right now?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Right now.” Because honestly, I don’t know when I’ll be able to work up the nerve again. It’s easy to tell myselfNow isn’t a good timewhen I’m over on the island. But I’m here right now, I have time, I have a car—and, maybe the most motivating factor, I just watched Phoenix quit his job with his psycho family.

It was strangely empowering. If he could do that, I can visit a body of water that just happens to hold bad memories.

“All right,” he says, nodding slowly. Then he pulls his seatbelt on and starts the car. “But Wyatt will kill me if I let you go swimming in the clothing he painstakingly picked out.”

“I don’t even know if I want to get in the water yet,” I say with a scoff. “I just want to go see it for now. I’ll decide the rest when I get there.” I pause and then ask, “Do you not think I can handle it?”

“Of course you can,” he says immediately. “I’m just surprised.” His eyes flit over my face. “Are yousure you want me to come?”

“I don’t mind,” I say with a little shrug. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be there, definitely, but… “If it’s you, I’m not opposed.”

He was there. He understands. And he won’t judge me for however I react to being back in that place—a place I haven’t been since the crash.

“Have you gone at all?” I say. “Since then?”

He nods again. “I have. A few times.”

“How was it?” I say, swallowing.

“The first time was a little rough,” he admits, “but after that it was fine. I go once a year.”

On the anniversary of the crash, probably, but I don’t ask. I’m too nervous, too on edge.

And he seems to be aware of how I’m feeling, because he doesn’t ask any more questions or say anything else. He just eyes me carefully and then looks forward again, and I’m grateful.

I want to do this before I change my mind.

We drive in silence, and I can’t stop fidgeting; I’m twirling my hair and bouncing my leg and still the restless energy inside me builds. Slowly the scenery out the window grows more and more familiar, and it’s both strange and sad to be back in a place that used to feel like home but has since become the literal stuff of nightmares. I flex my hands and force my legs to still as I try to regulate my breathing, but it’s no good; my heart beats faster and faster and faster, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

Phoenix, on the other hand, seems fine. I take a second to look more closely at him, but even his more hidden tells are absent; there’s no muscle twitching in his jaw, no furrow in his brow. His hand is casual on the steering wheel, and he looks for all the world like we’re just out for a summer drive. He doesn’t have to search for directions, either; it’s clear heknows exactly where we’re going, because he finds the turnoff with ease and proceeds confidently down a road I’ve never taken.

The car dips and bumps over the packed earth as we drive, maybe half a mile, until we reach a gravel lot. The wheels crunch as we enter and find a spot among the smattering of cars already here; a gaggle of teenagers spill out of an SUV, all of them in their swimsuits, laughing and shouting.

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