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“Where is home for you? I don’t know where mine stands right now.” I turned around to face him.

“Home for me…is wherever you are. I gave that up so long ago and I’ve come to regret every second of time wasted.” His voice was low, but far away.

I should have been angrier at his confession. But I was and still am weak.

“I would do anything to ensure we have all the time in the world,” he continued.

I stared up at him, searching the depths of his kind eyes for any monsters that may be wading in them. Of course, there was, that was the new Ash.

“What were you running from when you left me?” I asked.

“Myself,” he scoffed. “Isn’t that such a weak thing for a man to do?”

I hummed, not responding for a moment.

“Did you love him, Sara?” he continued.

Had Ash spent years thinking I loved someone else?

Kane was a mere placeholder. A distraction from myself. A weak excuse at getting over my true emotions. I was happy he’d ended up choosing himself.

“I think…we’ve both never known what love was.”

“What if we tried…again?” Ash leaned closer, his lips brushed softly against my temple. I answered his uncertainty by leaning in, my lips finding the soft place beneath his jaw. The fire crackled behind us.

“When do you leave again?” I asked, breathless.

Don’t cry, we don’t cry.

FORTY-THREE

May 2007

It felt important to write about that stormy day of May 19, 2007 and the week that followed.

I opened my journal long after midnight when the rain had settled into that steady, hushed rhythm Archmouth seemed to live inside for most of the year. The window beside my desk was fogged with condensation, the glass trembling occasionally when a stronger gust rolled in from the harbor. Somewhere beyond the row of townhouses the tide was turning, and I could hear the distant groan of the sea pressing against the stone breakwall.

But I found I couldn’t convey into words the feelings I had until everything had passed.

Ash came back without any warning. I did not see him at our graduation ceremony, though I searched for him without admitting that I was doing it. Archmouth’s graduation always felt slightly miserable in the way only England can perfect. My parents should have been there. That thought pressed against me more sharply on days like that. Would I ever have a family again?

Ever since the funeral I had learned how to occupy silence. Devil’s Bay had become too heavy with ghosts, so I permanently left for Archmouth and built a life among strangers, books and long wet streets. But grief had a way of following quietly behind, slipping into the empty chair across the table or the quiet corner of a library. And with the one person I loved a sea away from me, I had no choice but to crumble into the silence. Ash had always been the only person who refused to let me disappear into myself.

Daisy called soon after I departed Archmouth’s campus that afternoon and insisted we celebrate graduation at the harbor bar. I acquiesced and made my way over, washed with the late evening’s humidity and a grumpiness I couldn’t shake. I mean, what else was I supposed to do? I had no other friends aside from Daisy and Kane, no matter how strange they tended to be.

Condensation streaked the glass while fog gathered in the harbor, covering the lanterns along the pier until they looked like blurred stars floating on the water. Daisy had already ordered drinks by the time I arrived and settled in at the bar. She acted like she owned the place, hair damp from the rain, her eyes bright with the restless energy. Her mind was always running several steps ahead of everyone else in the room.

Our friendship had never been simple. Some nights she treated me like a sister. Others, she studied me with an unsettling curiosity. Kane sat beside her, brooding as always, turning his glass slowly between his hands. I couldn’t imagine him being okay with the affair she was having but I didn’t comment on their power dynamics.

I was halfway through my second glass of wine when the door opened. Cold air rushed into the room, sharp with the scent of rain and sea salt. And there he was.

At first, I didn’t recognize him. The young man I remembered had been all reckless limbs and easy laughter. The new man standing in the doorway never failed to look like an imposter living in Ash’s body. His shoulders were broader, his trench coat dark with rain, and his posture carried an edge.

He was on guard.

When he lifted his head, copper eyes caught the light and my heart lurched.

Ash.