All those days I spent obsessing over Reddit threads and court filings, trying to understand the final blow that brought Redwood down, I was living at ground zero. After I handed him the keys to the front door, Beau started a whisper campaign that Redwood was primed for a security attack, and Simon was building something that would end privacy as we knew it.
It had only been a matter of time before some vigilante hacker snaked through the crack in Titan’s foundation.
“Now, can we talk about why you were meeting your ex-boyfriend at the Ritz-Carlton?”
I brush past him, heading toward our bedroom. “I need a second.”
But he follows me. The house groans as the storm presses in, rain drumming the roof above our heads.
I’m at my sink in the bathroom, thinking I should wash my face, when my eyes catch on my closet. There are suitcases. Passports.
Could I reinvent myself again?
Running would be the cleanest option. Everything is either collapsing or tearing apart.
But I can choose to stay. Maybe the bravest thing I can do is hold on to what’s left of the life I want.
The Buffalo Nickel on Beau’s wrist catches the light. The silver disc is rubbed smooth in places, burnished by years of being handled, and then wrapped around Beau’s wrist. I tried to explain it to Nora once, but even she seemed to misunderstand the meaning.
“Whythatcoin, though?” she had asked, like something as ordinary as pocket change couldn’t hold so much weight.
It’s a language only Beau and I speak.
Now, we don’t understand each other at all.
I turn toward him, leaning my hip on the side of the sink with tears threatening in my eyes.
He moves closer. “Can you forgive my secret? Let me make it up to you?”
“How can you make up for a secret like that, Beau?” I can’t tell if I’m asking in earnest or begging him to reverse what he’s done.
Tears blur my vision as he stands in front of me, waiting like an offering, like a promise.
“Look, we’re both exhausted. Let’s get some rest,” he whispers. “I’ll sleep in the guest bedroom tonight, and we can talk in the morning. The house is ready.”
He’s talking about the hurricane.Thatstorm, we’re ready for. The hurricane windows are sealed, the generator is prepped, and the fridge is packed like we’re hunkering down for the end times.
Eagle Scouts never die.
He’s halfway down the hall when a gust of wind slams sideways against the side of the lake. Our boat is in storage, but some of our smaller vessels are secured to the boathouse. From the windows in the hallway, we watch as the gale knocks a kayak loose down by our dock, and the shell bounces up the yard with a hollow, thudding sound.
“Damn it.” Beau heaves a sigh from the other room, and then, shoulders tensing, he looks toward the dock. “I have to go tie that down before it blows through a window somewhere.”
“You’re not going out there,” I snap. “You’ll get struck by lightning.”
But he’s already headed toward the front of the house.
I can’t explain the panic that rises in my throat as he goes. Something inside me is screaming about wool socks and razors’ edges.
Am I worried I’ll lose him? Or worried he’s already gone?
I stare out the window, waiting for him to materialize in ouryard. Within seconds, he’s soaked and swearing, dragging the kayak into place and fastening it to the boathouse again.
I hold my breath the entire time. Only when I hear the lock by the pool doors click behind him does the knot in my chest ease.
Beau comes back into the bedroom, dripping, hair plastered to his forehead.
“You’re insane,” I mutter, relief and fury tangled together.
