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I imagine the press of her palm against my chest. The way her fingers would drag down my midsection, hook into the waistband of my pants…
She licks her lips. If she’s trying to weaken my resolve, she’s doing a good job. “I thought you… I never thought I’d see you again.”
Maybe in another life, I’d pull her close and relive the night we spent here. We could pick up where we left off and act like the last five years never happened.
In that life, Ilya would still be alive.
But he isn’t. My brother is dead and this isn’t five years ago. It’s here and now. Rayne doesn’t belong in this version of my life. Or on this beach.
I’ve seen what happens when lines in the sand get crossed.
They become graves.
I set my jaw. “You’re on private property.”
She trips back a half-step as if I slapped her. “Are you… are you serious? We see each other for the first time in—You’re actually serious?”
I point up toward the dunes, where a sign that saysNO TRESPASSINGlurks behind rust and sand and vines. “I’m always serious.”
“But you left.” Rayne is looking over my left shoulder. I have a feeling she’s just talking out loud to try to make sense of this in her own head. “You’re… you’re gone. You don’t live here.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t live here. Which is why you need to leave.”
Her shoulders sag. “Kirill.”
My name on her lips is a plea. It’s a million questions she can’t find the energy to ask.
What are you doing here?
When did you get back?
Did you think of me?
Is there someone else?
I have all the same questions floating around in my mind. But just like the last time we were on this beach, I’m the one who can keep them inside. I know nothing good comes from asking those kinds of questions.
I stare into her eyes one last time, mapping the striations of pale blue inside the sapphire.
“I don’t want to see you here again.”
With that, I turn around and walk back to the house. When I finally let myself look out of the window a few minutes later, Rayne is gone.
4
RAYNE
My heart thunders in my chest the entire walk home. I waffle back and forth on whether I just imagined that interaction on the beach or whether it really happened.
On one hand, it’s unbelievable. How could Kirill be back? I know for a fact I looked at that living room window as I walked down to the beach and it was closed just like it always is.
But then it was open, and Kirill was standing in front of me…
On the other hand, I have years of dirty daydreams that prove my imagination gets much more creative where Kirill is involved. If I had made up that interaction, there would have been fewer clothes and far less talking.
By the time I walk through my front door, I’ve made three loops of my neighborhood and all of the streetlights are on.
“I was about to put in a missing person’s report,” Natalia remarks when I come in. Her back is to me and her hair is piled into a giant bun on top of her head. The blue-tipped ends glow neon in the light above the sink. She has sudsy water up to her elbows.
