“No, no, it’s okay.” He rubs his jaw, voice choking with emotion. I don’t push, just give him the space he needs right now. “When I was fifteen, my sister, Raven, who was eight at the time, and I went fishing.” He swallows and moves his hand to the back of his neck. “I wanted to stay on the dock, but she insisted I take her out in the boat.” He laughs through watery eyes. “Shealwaysknew how to get her way. I caved and took her out, and we fished for a bit. Then the weather turned. I didn’t know how to read the signsback then, like I do now. So I didn’t realize what was happening until a storm was right above us. I should have paid more attention. I should have listened to my gut and been more careful. The wind picked up, and the rain started to fall, and a huge wave pulled her off the boat and under the water.”
He pauses for a minute, swallowing hard and wiping at his glistening eyes. “I jumped off the boat and tried to find her, but the waves were so big, and the water was moving so fast, she was gone. Just like that.” He leans over onto his knees and places his head in his hands. “They found her—” He clears his throat a few times, willing himself to continue. “Um, found her body the next day. It floated to shore. She looked so…peaceful. Which feels like a weird thing to say, but that’s how it felt. She wasn’theranymore. Her skin was blue, but she looked so calm. My parents… things with them have never been the same. My dad could barely work, so I tried to stay invisible while I helped at the lighthouse, staying out of his way but keeping things going for him. At one point, he said he was done, and I took over without questioning it. That was three years ago.”
My heart breaks for him. What a horrible tragedy to have happen to a kid. To lose your sister in such an awful way. I remember reading about that in the article. How his parents lost both their children. I never stopped to think about how that could have affected him. “Dylan, you were a kid. It wasn’t your fault. Thank god you survived.” I rub his shoulder, trying my best to soothe some of his never-ending guilt.
“I’ve always wished it was me instead of her.”
“I can understand that. But it wasn’t your fault. It was the weather. You can’t control the ocean.”
His eyes are brimming with tears, and he tries toswallow the guilt back, his Adam’s apple jutting out as he does. “It could have happened again. Toyou.”
“But it didn’t, Dyl. I’m okay. I got soaked. That’s all. Andyoutook care of me. You brought me back here and warmed me up. You did good.”
You keep me safe.
I reach for a towel while his head rests in his hands and wrap it around myself as I step out of the tub. Once I’m out, I kneel down in front of him, wrapping my arms around him. He immediately collapses into me. We hold each other as his breathing calms. I’ve probably soaked him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
After some time, he pulls away a bit and squeezes my arm. “Thanks, Luce. That felt nice to talk about with you. It’s been so long.”
I touch his cheek tenderly. “You can tell me anything.”
He smiles, changing the subject. “Okay, I want you back in that bath now. I’m going to go down and make us dinner. Sound good?” He helps me back up to a stand.
“Deal.” I watch him leave, shutting the door behind him, and I step back into the tub, letting the warm water wash over me once more. I tip my head back and submerge myself fully, trying to drown out the feeling of his hands on my waist and his lips on my stomach.
Just friends.
Do friends kiss you like that?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dylan calls up to let me know he left a shirt and sweatpants for me to wear while my clothes hang to dry. I throw on the baggy white T-shirt and grey sweatpants, revelling in the scent of him washing over my body, and head downstairs for dinner.
He made us a quick and easy dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup. The short amount of time he had leads me to believe it’s the canned variety, but knowing Dylan, he whipped up a homemade one earlier. We sit together on the couch and eat, basking in the warmth of the fire he started while I was in the bath. By the time we finish our delicious meal, it’s past 9:00 p.m.
“I should head out,” I say as I bring my dishes into the kitchen to wash up in the sink.
“You could stay,” he says as he comes up behind me with his own bowl and plate. “It’s late. I can sleep on the couch. You can have my bed.” He grabs my dishes and takes over washing them. “And I’d feel better if you were here. So I know you don’t get hypothermia or anything.” He looks over at me with a smirk before continuing with our dishes.
I yawn, stretching my arms up over my head, noticing how tired I am. And how badly I want to stay. “Okay, but only if you’re sure. I’ll sleep on the couch, though.”
“Nonsense,” he says, finishing up in the kitchen. “Bed’s all yours.”
Getting ready for bed with Dylan feels like I’m playing the role ofgirlfriendtemporarily. We brush our teeth together—he thankfully had an extra toothbrush stored away— and I wash my face once more. It’s nice. This is something we’d do if we lived a regular life. A regular life inonetime. It’s bittersweet, but I try to push those thoughts aside and enjoy the time I have with him now.
He changes into a pair of black sweatpants and a Smashing Pumpkins T-shirt and heads toward the stairs. He shouldn’t look as good as he does before going to bed, but here we are. His biceps flex as he grips the banister on the staircase, and I swear a bit of drool is close to escaping from my mouth. He turns around and offers a wide grin I’ve become obsessed with, and I actually have to wipe my mouth.
“Everything’s clean,” he tells me as he catches the extra pillow I toss his way. “Good night, Lucy.” He smiles once more, and I melt inside.
Stop doing that, heart, I command.
Once he’s gone, I turn off the light and get into bed, staring off at the wood stove on my right. The orange and red flames dance in my vision and keep the room at a comfortable temperature. As I’m lying there, I think back to everything that happened today and how Dylan sprang into action and took care of me. How guilty he felt about an awful accident that happened years ago. How badly I wish I could wrap my arms around him and stay there. He makes me feel so safe.
I like to think I make him feel safe too.
My eyes finally close, and I drift off, pretending those arms are wrapped around me now, instead of my own.
I jerk awake and look around me, forgetting where I am for a moment. It’s almost pitch-black in the room, the only light coming from the dying fire in the wood stove, the full logs now turned to coal and ashes. It’s a bit cooler in here now, and my eyes scan in the dim light for another log to throw on the fire. Nothing. Getting out of bed, the chill in the air causes my bare legs to erupt in goosebumps. I must have kicked my sweatpants off during the night. There should be more logs downstairs. I’ll go quietly so I don’t wake Dylan. The alarm clock beside me says 2:30 in big red writing, illuminating the small end table it sits on.
