Biting my lower lip, my stomach tightens. “What did he say?”
Beck sighs, low and long. “That I should put her first. Change my whole life for her or I’ll regret it.”
“Oh, Beck, I—” I clamp my mouth shut, then open it again when he doesn’t speak. “You know I don’t expect you to do that, right?”
“I know you don’t,” he spits out, his tone growing harsh. “But you haven’t left me with much choice, have you?”
“Whoa.” I hold up my palms.
“Just…I don’t want to do this. Not here, not now.” He adjusts his hat on his head. “This is about Dottie. You asked me to come, and I’m here.”
“Geez, Beck, don’t do me any favors.” I roll my eyes.
“What? What is it then that youdowant from me?”
I stare at him, my eyes watering again as disbelief fills me. Beck never used to raise his voice at me. He’s never looked at me like that either. But then again, the years we’ve been apart have piled up on each other. People change. We’ve changed. I suppose we’ve drifted apart further than I knew.
“I’m sorry.”
He throws up a hand. “There you go apologizing again. Just stop, will you?”
“I was going to say I’m sorry I asked you to come today. I thought…I don’t know…that maybe we could find a way to move on. To make this work. Whatever this is. But I was wrong.”
“No, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to keep playing the victim.”
Young Beck, the old Beck, never would’ve said these things. He never would’ve talked to me like he is right now. And it only solidifies what I already knew—we aren’t the same people from seven years ago.
And we’re over.
“Why don’t you just go? I’m fine now.”
“No,” he mutters, and stands up. “I’m here. And you’re clearly not fine.”
I pull myself up to stand, my body groaning as I do. “I will be. I’m just gonna do this and then…” Except I don’t know what comes after this. Because I missed the last ferry. Meaning I’m stuck on the island.
Beck bends and picks up the urn.
“Beck,” I snap, stretching to snatch it back. “Hey, give that to me.”
He holds it out of my reach. “No, I came to help. So let’s get this over with.”
“You’re such an ass—let’s get this over with?” I stand on my tiptoes and try again, but with him standing well over six feet, I’m no match. He holds the urn high above my head in an outstretched arm. “You’re so immature. Cut it out.”
“I’mimmature?”
“Yeah. Give me the ashes, now.” I hold out my palm.
“Let me start, then I’ll give them to you.”
“Why would I let you start? She was my grandma.”
He brings the urn down against his chest to screw open the lid and I reach for it again, getting my hand gripped around it. In one swift motion, he twists his body away from me, wrenching the urn from my grip. I ricochet off his shoulder and the motion has me tripping backward.
I’m too late, even as I attempt to catch my footing.
Beck calls out, “Rosie!” and reaches for me.
The shriek that slides out of my throat is swallowed up by the ocean when my head goes under. I’m only in the water for a few seconds before an arm hooks under my chest.
