Page 104 of Fish Out of Water

“Do you really believe that?”

Jake wanted to believe it. It would make leaving so much easier if Robbie could be the bad guy and Jake could pin all theirtroubles on him. But Robbie would never do that for his parents, not even if they tried to make it worth his while. He’d given up more for less.

“I’m selling the house to Robbie,” Isabel said again. “How could I not?”

Jake shook his head. He had no answer for Isabel. He had nothing left at all.

The rain picked up again outside, hammering the windows with such ferocity that even Isabel looked momentarily concerned.

“I’ll leave you be,” she said, “but I’m not changing my mind. I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you and Robbie in the end.”

“I’m sorry too,” Jake muttered, dropping his head back onto the pillow, hoping, in vain, that the rain would lull him to sleep as soon as Isabel was gone. “Sorrier than you can ever imagine.”

The rainonly got worse the following day, and when Jake awoke with a headache as bad as any hangover, his hopes for moving on after his true final conversation with Robbie, the one where he had burned whatever bridge they managed to repair on the beach, were dashed against the very rocks being pummeled by waves down at the shore.

The next day was much of the same, and then the next. Isabel wasn’t showing the house anymore, so there was no need for Jake to leave it when a nice older couple or a sweet young family wanted to take a walkthrough. He was safe to rot on the couch as the rain droned on and well after it slowed, getting up only when Isabel threatened to call Alex.

“I’ll do it,” she said, “and I’ll let that girl give you an earful. Don’t think she won’t.”

“I know, I know,” Jake grumbled. “I’ll get up and go do something.”

“Pick up some groceries at Sandway while you’re out, will you? Anything you want; I can make it work.”

“Sure thing, Aunt Isabel.”

Jake went to his room to change his shirt. His laundry had been piling up, and now he felt a prick of shame warming his cheeks as he stared at the hideous monster glowering up at him. He had to get out of this funk. Leaving permanently would help, but until then, he didn’t knowwhatto do.

He drove to Sandway in silence. He’d tried drowning out the buzz in his head already with all kinds of music and podcasts and radio talk shows, and those didn’t work. Instead of numbing his brain, the noise lit it on fire, devolving into the kind of discordant chaos that one could only live with for so long.

“Eaton Cafe, coming soon,” Jake recited as he passed the old Book Nook. Except it didn’t say that anymore. The big blue banner had been torn down, perhaps by the storm, and a blank storefront stood there, naked and ashamed in its half-finished state.

Jake slowed and pulled into the parking lot. The work trucks and big machinery that they’d been using to turn the place inside out were all gone, too. The interior was still empty; no counter and no shelves, but nothing else either. It was as if the place sat in limbo.

“The storm,” Jake muttered, pressing his hand to one of the windows to better see inside. “I’m sure the storm’s set them back a lot.”

He couldn’t lie; it gave him a sort of sadistic pleasure to know that the Eatons might not be able to open their cafe in time for the big holiday rush they were anticipating. That had to hurt.

In another timeline, he would’ve texted Robbie to share in this sensation. Even now, his fingers twitched as they reached for his phone, only for him to remember where he was; what day it was. Robbie hadn’t blocked his number yet, but he actually might if Jake did that to him now.

He walked back to his car and drove the rest of the way to Sandway. Mercifully, the parking lot was nearly empty, no doubt another result of the surprise storm. It wasn’t raining now, but the parking lot was drenched, with the blacktop shiny and marred with puddles wherever it dipped enough to hold water.

Inside, he grabbed a basket and went straight to the produce. He wandered the aisles, blowing air out through pursed lips and tapping his thigh as he became paralyzed with indecision.

“Do you need any help, sir?” A woman with thick black hair pulled up into a ponytail smiled brightly. She wore a Sandway-blue polo shirt and black pants. “Hey, it’s you. Jake, right?”

Jake’s mouth fell open. “Oh, fuck.” He shook his head. “Sorry. Yeah, it’s Jake, and you’re… Safiya?”

Safiya nodded, her smile turning into a smirk. “Long time no see. Listen, I’m really sorry about what happened at The Cove this past summer.”

“It was my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was definitely Ricky’s, but don’t worry—I broke up with him about two months ago.”

“Oh, wow.” Jake tried to smile. “Congrats, I guess.”

She laughed. “Thanks. It was long overdue. I’m seeing Connor now.”

“Connor Everheart?”