Page 92 of Rise
She reached for her phone, thumbed open her texts, and without overthinking it, began to type out amessage to him.
What are you doing?
She watched the message go through, her breath shallow in her chest.
Seconds passed. Then her screen lit up, phone buzzing against her thigh.
Beck calling…
Hazel hesitated, just for a breath. Then she pressedAcceptand brought the phone to her ear.
“Hey,” she said.
Her voice was rough. Lower than usual, as if she’d swallowed a handful of the gravel currently beneath her car. She cleared her throat, but it didn’t help much.
There was a pause on the other end. Nothing awkward, just that particular kind of Beck-specific silence.
She could hear background noise through the line, the wind through the trees, the faint crunch of his boots on packed snow, maybe even the distant call of a gull. Then his voice came through, steady and low.
“You okay?”
Hazel turned her head to look out the window. The trees were thick here, tall pine and brittle maple, all dusted white at the edges. Her windshield was fogging up again.
She could lie. She could say she was fine, say she just needed to kill time before heading home, say it wasn’t a big deal.
But something in his voice, the way he asked it, undid her just a little. Like he already knew the answer but wanted to ask her, just in case.
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just... I didn’t want to go home yet. I was visiting my mom.”
There was a beat of silence, though it wasn’t hesitation. Just Beck thinking, the way he always did. She could feel it in the air between them.
“I’m up at the lighthouse,” he offered, letting out a long exhale. “Was clearing the path up before more snow comes in.”
Hazel released a soft sigh, her eyes tracing the snowflakes as they fell against the windshield before her.
“It’s quiet up here,” he added. “And I’ve got hot coffee.”
The invitation wasn’t dramatic— wasn’t evenreallyan invitation. It was just… a place being offered. A placeheld,for her, if she needed it.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
The image rose unbidden: Beck at the top of the lighthouse, snow clinging to the shoulders of his jacket, thermos in one hand, leaning against the railing like the sky wasn’t pressing down on him the way it was pressing down on her. The thought of standing beside him and saying nothing at all felt more healing than any words could.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” she said.
Hazel eased the car to a stop beside Beck’s truck. A dull hush had fallen over everything, the kind of stillness that felt suspended, like the world was bracing for heavier snow but hadn’t yet been given permission to fall.
She sat there for a beat too long, her hands still wrapped tight around the wheel. Then she forced herself to move.
The cold met her like a slap the moment she opened the door, bracing and immediate. But it helped. It gave her something to focus on besides the ache in her ribs, the rawness behind her eyes, the fragile fullness in her chest she didn’t yet have the words to describe. She pulled her coat tighter, buried her chin deeper into the collar, and began walking.
The lighthouse sat at the edge of the bluff, wind-swept and weatherworn, rising like a sentinel above the sea. There was no sound but the wind and the distant, rhythmic press of waves breaking against frozen rock. Beck’s footprints were still visible in the freshly clearedpath leading to the door, firm, sure, and direct. Of course he’d been the one to shovel it. Of course it would be cleared just enough for her to walk through without effort, without needing to ask.
The door was open by just an inch, and inside, the air was warmer than she expected. Not cozy, exactly, but lived in. There was a lamp on a table near the far wall, its glow low and golden against the stone.
The spiral stairs rose into shadow. She climbed slowly, her boots clanging against the metal, the scent of salt and old wood settling around her like memory. With every step, her heartbeat seemed to slow— still ragged, still aching, but steadier now, like her body was beginning to understand that she didn’t need to brace, not here.
She reached the top and found him there.
