Page 18 of The Lighthouse Sisters

She admonished herself for comparing her body to that of a complete stranger’s, but she couldn’t help but compare. They were just so different. A man who was attracted to someone who looked like Rachel would not be attracted to someone who looked like her. She was just being realistic.

Handing Rachel’s phone back to her, Raelynn turned to walk away, her bag of croissants tucked safely under her arm. She would stuff her face with croissants, she said to herself, and feel sorry that the Michaels of the world preferred to be with the Rachels of the world.

Michael surprised her by touching her elbow, stopping her from walking away. “I’m sorry about the whole picture thing, but maybe I’ll see you around.” And with that, he gave her one last smile and walked away. Rachel, too busy staring at the photo on her phone, missed the whole exchange.

It didn’t matter to Raelynn. She had no plans to see Michael again. She was sorry she wasted coffee all over his shoes, though. She pushed thoughts of Michael and Rachel out of her head and just appreciated the beauty around her as she walked back to the little house that sat on the property near the lighthouse.

She figured Katrina would be off the phone by now. No matter how much Katrina denied it, she knew that Dave had something to do with her friend’s drastic mood swings lately. And she also knew that she wasn’t going to let Dave dissuade Katrina from doing something that meant the world to her. She would confront Dave if she had to.

All thoughts of Dave disappeared as she looked out at the water. There was something healing about being on Tybee Island. She didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the beaches that stretched as far as the eye could see. Or maybe it was the way the waves caressed the shores in almost a hypnotic way. Whatever it was, it made her feel better. She was freshly divorced and technically homeless, but she had Katrina. She had Hazel. And she had the lighthouse.

At that moment, her phone vibrated, and she reached for it. It was a single text from Dylan.

“Mom, I’m so sorry,” it read. “I really need your help.”