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“Thanks for coming out here with me,” she says. “Sorry I—”
“I have this rule about apologies,” I say, sweeping her hair from my vision as another light breeze passes. “Never apologize for taking care of yourself.”
She smiles softly, and sits up straighter, holding her pretty pink dress down from the fluttering wind. “So what are you guys doing down here, anyway? You got our spiel. What’s yours?” I can see she’s desperate to change the subject, so I go with the flow.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I say, looking out at the ocean. I know it’s there because I can hear it, but the only bit of light is coming from the bar on this section of the beach, which leaves the water just nearly shadows.
“Okay. I’ll bite,” she says, pulling on the lobe of her ear. “What wouldn’t I believe?”
I contemplate telling her every detail of our trip, just so she’ll trust me, but I think Zane would lose it. He’s been playing everything close to the belt since we left Miami. A trust no one kind of deal that’s growing old fast. He’s been that way for as long as I’ve known him, but it seems worse lately.
“You ran away,” a voice says from behind us. “What are you two doing out here?”
I turn toward the woman, and though there isn’t much light, I can tell it’s Margo. Somehow, the bright yellow dress she’s wearing cuts through the darkness.
“Hey,” Sara says with sympathy, as though she owes an explanation she doesn’t actually owe. “Sorry… we were just getting some fresh air. I was feeling a little queasy.”
Interesting.Whatever is going on with that guy at the bar, her friend doesn’t know much about either. There is the lack of that special eyeball stare friends give when they’re speaking in code.
Margo smiles rather obliviously and stumbles over to the empty space beside Sara, throwing herself onto the sand next to her. She’s beautiful, in a bubbly, sweet sort of way, with light hair and eyes, and a big freckle on her left breast just below her collarbone. But she’s nowhere near as beautiful as Sara.
I hate that I notice appearance so easily. I know it tells very little about a person, but it’s something I’ve been trained to do—note scars, crooked noses, the exact shade of a person’s hair, the way they carry themselves. It’s a byproduct of the military work I spent my early twenties doing. It seeps into your bones and takes over everything you are. Hell, I’d still be out in the field if it weren’t for the knee injury that left me with a limp.
Zane steps into the dim light and makes eye contact with me before nodding his head away from the girls. I assume he’s asking to talk privately, but I can’t imagine what he wants to talk about. Though, I guess by the serious look in his eye, he’s over the little socialization experiment we’ve been having.
Standing from the sand, I leave Sara with Margo and make my way toward the guys who’ve gathered ten feet away.
“What’s up?” I ask, folding my arms over one another. I don’t want them to bail on me for the night. I want to get to know Sara more, but I doubt she’ll leave her friend for more than a few minutes and if the guys go back to the hotel, Margo will have no one to talk to.
“We have an early morning tomorrow,” Zane says, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his stance wide. “We should get going. That producer wasn’t messing around when she said four a.m.”
“Do you really think we should be doing this TV show thing anyway? It’s weird. And if we don’t win the million dollars, we’ll be committed into some embarrassment hall of fame for eternity. We’ll never live it down.”
“We’re here. We’ve signed the paperwork. We’re doing it,” Zane says. “Besides, these girls are a mess. Margo just spent the last thirty minutes telling us about fishing boats and the mating habits of sea cucumbers, and the other one ran out of the bar crying. We can’t get messed up with this right now.”
Zane is always the voice of reason, and he’s rarely wrong, but I don’t agree with him this time.
“Just give me another hour. I don’t want to leave her out here alone. Something is going on with that guy at the bar. He—”
“You’re kidding, right? You’re really going to hit on some vacation girl?”
“I’m not hitting on her. I’m trying to help!” I say, not actually sure what it is I’m doing.
“So go help her then,” Zane bites, his stare steady on me. “Just don’t say anything about the TV show. We’ve signed that confidentiality clause. We don’t want to end up owing the TV network money.” His fists are clenched, and his jaw is set, as though he’s about to be way angrier about some paperwork than he needs to be. Trouble is, I don’t know how to help him anymore.
“We’re all still working through things, man,” Colin says, throwing his hand up on Zane’s shoulder. “But it’s been three years. At some point, we have to be open to moving on. Mari wanted us to move on.”
“Go ahead,” Zane growls. “Both of you… move the fuck on. But don’t come crying to me when you find yourself in a huge fucking mess in the morning. This girl is bad fucking news. Anyone who’s paying attention can see that.” He looks down at his phone. “I’ll be in the hotel lobby at four a.m. Don’t be late.”
Colin looks toward me and gives me a comforting nod, as though he’ll take care of Zane tonight. It’s a job we’ve both taken on, though I’m not sure he notices. He’s still too wrapped in grief—which I completely understand. Hell, we all thought our life was set. We’d found each other, and that was all we needed. The guys and I had committed our lives to making Mari our priority, and she’ll never leave my heart, but I can’t sulk about it anymore. I spent the better part of three years in therapy. I’ve lost weekends to whiskey and bourbon, and I’ve spent endless hours talking to a woman that no longer exists—screaming out to her, begging her to come back. But none of it works. She’s still gone, and I’m still here, trying to make sense of what’s left of this life.
“We’ll see you tomorrow morning, man,” Colin says, following behind Zane, who’s already walking up the sidewalk toward the resort. He mouths something that I can’t quite make out, but I assume it’s something comforting or funny. He’s usually trying to lighten the mood, but still, I don’t know if it’s right that I stay here with Sara.
If I don’t go back with the guys, Zane is going to have a bone to pick with me and I’m about to spend the next thirty days on a deserted island with him. The last thing I need is for him to be miserable on top of it. Besides, if I go with Sara, I’m only confusing her and fooling myself into thinking I’m ready for anything more serious than friendship.
“Hey,” Sara says from behind me softly. Her small hand on my shoulder is light and sweet.
I turn toward her, my heart still as her eyes reflect the bit of light from the bar. “Do you mind walking us back to our room? It’s a really dark night and who knows what could happen out here.”
