Page 51 of Neap & Spring

What’s really going on is that I miss her.

I miss the version of us that existed before everything got complicated. I miss the way we used to work together and push each other to be better. I miss her laugh. And her sarcasm. I miss the way she’d call me out when I was being too picky about something.

I miss my best friend.

But I can’t say that out loud.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admit instead, staring at the sun sparkling off the water. “She won’t talk to me. And I’m angry about that. But I also —” I stop and take a deep breath before saying out loud the one thing I’ve been thinking about for days. “I guess, I also don’t know what she’s going through. I don’t know why she can’t tell me. And being aggressive about it isn’t going to help.”

Roman nods slowly, moving to sit on the cooler again. “That’s probably the smartest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Roman, please, for my sanity, stop talking.”

“I’m serious.” He leans forward smiling, clapping me on the shoulder. “You’re right. You don’t know what she’s dealing with. And if you keep pushing for answers every time you talk to her, you’re just gonna make it worse.”

“So what do I do? Just ignore her forever?”

“No.” Wesley baits his hook again, his hands bright red from the cold. “You give her space. You back off. You help her do her job without making it harder.” He looks at me. “And you remember that whatever she’s been carrying, she’s probably been carrying it so long she’s forgotten what it felt like not to.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Dad.”

Wesley grins. “Probably.”

But he’s right. They’re both right.

I don’t know what Vivienne’s been through. I don’t know why she stopped cooking. Or why she left and can’t even tell me the reason. But pushing her, demanding answers, and shutting her out when she won’t give them is not going to help either of us.

“Okay,” I say finally, casting my line back out. “Okay. I’ll back off.”

“Good,” Roman says, standing up to cast again. “Because the tension is killing everyone. Frannie asked me yesterday if you two were gonna start throwing knives or making out.”

Despite everything, I almost laugh. I press my lips together and look out at the water because one of those options sounds significantly more appealing than it should given the circumstances, and Roman absolutely cannot know that.

Suddenly, the line tugs hard. I straighten up, gripping the rod with both hands. “I got something.”

“Yeah?” Wesley moves closer, watching my line.

I start reeling, slow and steady. Whatever’s down there is fighting, pulling hard.

“It’s a fighter,” I say, bracing my feet against the side of the boat.

And then the tail breaks the surface, slapping the water hard enough to send spray across all three of us.

“Holy shit,” Wesley breathes.

“Cal.” Roman grabs my arm. “Cal, that is a big fish.”

“I can see that.”

“No, like, that is a massive fish.”

“I know.”

“Like, a really —”

“Roman! I know!”

The rod bends and the line screams out. I have to let it go and let whatever’s down there run its course, or the rod is going to snap.