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1
MARGOT
Running away didn’t doshit to erase the bad memories I was running from. So coming home should have made it easier to forget, right?
Wrong.
I look down at my phone as I sit at the absolutely useless traffic light. It’s midnight, and Birch Harbor hasn’t changed much in the last year. The streets are deserted, and there are old-fashioned streetlamps every couple hundred feet to offer some sort of mood lighting.
Main Street was redone to attract tourists about twenty years ago, and now it looks like a modern version of the town’s photos from the early 1900s.
As I wait for the light to change, I can’t help rolling down my car windows and taking in a deep breath of the fresh Maine air. Salt and pine meet me as I close my eyes and inhale deeply. Although the town borders the ocean, it’s a warm night in April and keeping my windows down won’t do me any harm.
I press the unlock button on my phone and open my messages since I know from experience I have at least two minutes of red before the light shifts. The one from Maya still sits at the top of my screen.
Maya
I need you to come home. It’s an emergency.
As soon as I saw it, everything shifted in my life. I got on the first flight I could book a ticket for and came home, even making the five-hour drive from Boston when I couldn’t get a flight into any closer airport.
Maya was the only person I kept in contact with, helping me get my life figured out when I left Birch to escape. Now, she needs me to come home.
So here I am.
I still have a burning desire to know what the emergency is. Why she sent a cryptic text and refused to tell me anything else about what it is until I get home.
Even with Brian reassuring me that no one is dead or dying, I’m still stressed out about it. Even if it’s an easy decision to come home, I’m anxious and I can’t wait to get answers.
Unfortunately, rolling up to their house in the middle of the night with all my questions isn’t really an option. I’m a dick, but I’m notthatmuch of a dick. And definitely not to my best friend.
The light turns green finally, and I toss my phone into the passenger seat and take off. The rental car has more get-up-and-go than I expect, and soon I’m going over fifty down Main Street. The shops zip past me, and the wind blows my long blond hair around my face. It takes me a minute to notice the blue lights flashing in my rearview mirror, but I jump when I hear the siren and immediately turn on my blinker, signaling that I’m pulling over.
Plus, you know, it lets them know that I’m not about to take them on a high-speed chase through Birch.
My heart is racing, unprepared to deal with any of the deputies. I don’t know if they’ll recognize me now that I have my natural blond hair color instead of the black I liked when I worked with them.
The cruiser is parked right behind me with the spotlight on so I can’t see the face of the deputy who gets out of his car and takes his time walking to my window.
“Do you know why I pulled you—” The voice cuts off as he bends down to look into the car with a flashlight and we lock eyes.
Jake.
Of course it would have to be him. The look in his eyes alone says that he remembers exactly who I am.
I try to smile, but I know that it won’t help. Not with him. I’m wearing an oversized hoodie with a pair of yoga pants, not a trace of makeup and my hair windblown from driving with the windows down. He just stares at me with his mouth hanging open. It takes my eyes a few seconds to focus in the cruiser’s bright spotlight. When my eyes adjust, I notice that he’s lost a little weight since the last time I saw him, but his eyes are still the same brilliant shade of green.
“Hi, Jake.” I almost whisper it as I look up directly into his eyes. He doesn’t answer. We stay like that for a minute, and then he clicks his flashlight off and abruptly turns away without saying a word.
I stay in my car and wait, but he doesn’t pull away. So I keep my car off since the last thing I need is to be arrested for fleeing from an officer. First five minutes pass, and then ten before I make my decision to take a chance with jail.
I’m getting ready to turn the key in the ignition when I hear his car door open and then slam. His boots hit the pavement, and with every step my heart rate increases. When he stands at my window again, I feel a knot in my throat and try to swallow around it.
“What are you doing here, Margot?” He speaks softly, as though he’s afraid of my answer.
“Um. I’m here for—”
“Actually, you know what? I don’t really care. You left… you didn’t come back. What the hell is wrong with you? A year, Margot. A year, and you never came back. You never called. You never even sent a fuckin’ text. And now you expect to walk back into this town. You should just turn this car right around and go back to Arizona. You don’t belong here anymore.” He’s breathing deeply now; I see his chest rise and fall beneath his bulletproof vest. I can’t help myself, riling him up even more.
