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"I can’t breathe. Please make it stop hurting," I cry, and she nods, making a soothing sound as she rubs my back, but it does nothing to help me.
"It's okay, sis. It's okay." But then she starts crying too. She's crying with me, and for me. Because when you love someone, their heartbreak is yours.
I finally allow her to touch me, and she holds me for the rest of the night on her bedroom floor.
My sobs finally give way to just numbness a few hours later.
“He,” I start, not being able to even say his name, “wasn't the only thing I was keeping from you,” I confess.
“Okay,” Daisy says, her tone holding no judgment.
"I got into Dartmouth. They gave me a full ride," I whisper in a rough, desolate voice.
"What? That's amaze—"
“I wasn’t going to go,” I blurt out. “I was going to stay here. For him,” I admit in a strangled sob.
“And now?” Daisy asks hesitantly.
“I’m going to take it,” I say. “And I’m never going to come back here again."
Tears slide down my sister’s cheeks as she nods slowly.
Tears should be streaking down my own face too, but all I feel is emptiness.
All I feel is numb.
And I make a promise then and there that I’m never going to cry for Noah Fontaine again.
Never again.
I might have died tonight.
But so did he.
Epilogue
Skylar
Ifumble with the phone as I type out my father’s number.
“Hey, little bird. What’s up?” he says, shocking me when he actually answers on the second ring.
“I need to move in with you.”
There’s a long silence. “Uhh, well–”
“You’ve never done anything for me, and I never asked you to. But I need you to do this one thing for me now. I can't stay here. I need to leave Thatcher’s Bay. Now, Dad. I’ll sleep on the couch, the floor if I have to. I don't care. It’s not a permanent thing. It’s just until I go to Dartmouth in the fall,” I spit out. “I’m on the next ferry out of here, Dad. The question is, will you be there to pick me up, or am I sleeping on the streets? Because even if your answer is no, I’m going.”
There’s another long pause, and I’m sure he’ll say no even as I hastily throw my things into a bag.
“I’ll be there,” he finally says. “I promise.”
I don’t believe him, because I don’t believe in anyone’s promises anymore.
But I still leave the house with my bags. And I still get on the first ferry out of this godforsaken island.
And I don’t feel a thing when my father’s actually waiting at the dock when the boat pulls in.
