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“I gave you a considerable head start,” he countered. “We’ll call it a tie.”
Only then did I realize just how close we were. So close I could feel his chest rise and fall. I could see the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes and feel the heat of his body tightly pressed against mine. He cupped my cheek, that intense hazel gaze searching mine.
Was he asking for permission? If so, he had it.
Was he worried about the deal? If anyone would see? I didn’t care. There could be a hundred people on this beach or none. I still wanted him to kiss me more than my next breath.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he took a step back, his hand dropping to the side. “We should get back,” he said, his voice rough and raw. “We’ll miss the next ferry.”
His eyes lingered over mine for a second, then two, before he turned back around and started back toward the truck.
I guessed I was supposed to follow.
* * *
I contemplated the idea of warning him, just to be on the safe side.
But ever since we had left Springer’s Point, he’d seemed to be lost in his thoughts.
I didn’t want to make things worse by telling him there was a small chance I could lose my shit the second we got on that ferry.
I’d managed to ride the ferry here without having a panic attack…
Sobbing didn’t count.
It didn’t.
Also, that was two weeks ago.
Basically a lifetime ago.
I thought back to that moment I had stood in front of my apartment building and said good-bye to Elena.
It really did feel like a lifetime ago.
I’d dreaded returning to Ocracoke for five years—dreaded the idea of walking into that little island house and seeing Daniel’s things and having all our memories play out in my mind. But I no longer feared the ghosts that lingered within those walls.
For the first time since I’d lost Daniel, I felt like I was finally moving forward rather than standing still.
I still missed him. God, I missed him. But I knew he’d want this for me.
He’d want me to be happy.
And I think I was. Or I was getting there.
As we headed down Highway 12, away from town, I felt confident. Excited even. I was looking forward to our day away, and I was sure that once we got farther from Ocracoke, I could coax Macon out of whatever funk his father had put him in.
I glanced toward the water, looking out beyond the waves, wondering what the day would bring. The ocean glinted and winked at me as I turned my head toward the other side, and that was when my eyes collided with the ferry memorial.
I’d never taken the time to actually stop and look at it. I never had the courage. But I knew it was there. I’d been invited to come down and see its dedication ceremony.
But I’d declined.
Seeing it felt too raw. Too real.
I’d managed to ignore its existence since I’d been here. But today, I knew I’d see it. I’d prepared myself.
