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“What do you mean?” I deflected.
She gave me a stern look, crossing her arms over her chest. “You are never this quiet. Is it me? Is it because of what happened on the ferry?”
“No,” I tried to assure her, but then her expression changed like she’d been physically wounded. “Shit.”
I looked away, feeling frustrated. I shoved my hands in my hair and groaned before turning back around.
“You should go home,” I finally said.
“You want to go home?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Already?”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” I let out a huff, hating every word that was coming out of my mouth. “Youshould go back home. Back to Richmond.”
Her eyes widened and then rounded in disbelief. “Why? Why would you say that?”
I looked out toward the water, knowing this was my one shot to be the good guy. My one chance to do right by her and, judging by her reaction to the ferry today, she clearly wasn’t ready for this anyway. “Because I can’t pretend with you, Marin,” I confessed, the words coming out faster than I could think. “I don’t know how. And it doesn’t seem to matter to me that you’re still grieving or you just broke up with someone; I can’t seem to walk away. Believe me, I’ve tried. And you deserve better than the wayward son of a drunk.”
Her breath caught, her body frozen as she looked at me. “Is that why you didn’t kiss me?”
“What?” That was not the reaction I had expected.
“At the beach today. You were going to kiss me, but you didn’t.”
God, how I’d wanted to.
It would have been so easy.
But ever since she’d arrived, it’s like I’d been balancing all my emotions on a scale. On one side was the immense guilt I carried. On the other—the happiness I felt when I was around her, the passion, the immense fear that she’d one day leave if she discovered the truth.
Somewhere along the way, I started caring more about her than that guilt.
Or at least, I thought I had.
“I didn’t want to start something you’d end up regretting.” I finally said. That scale had tipped back in a major way today. The guilt I felt was palpable, and I knew I should just come clean.
She took a tentative step forward. “But what if I want to? Start something, that is?”
My eyes flew to hers, everything else forgotten. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, Marin.” She opened her mouth to respond, but I cut her off, taking a step forward so that we were face-to-face, nearly touching. “I was willing to let you go because I thought you weren’t ready, but?—”
Her breath caught because she knew the words I was holding back—that I’d make her mine in every sense of the word.
“Do you want to know why I panicked on the ferry today?” she asked, her brown irises looking up at mine.
“I know why,” I said, already starting to take a step back.
She caught my hand, holding me in place.
“You don’t,” she countered. “And I didn’t at first either. You see, I’d been excited to board the ferry today. I thought I’d be able to handle it—it’s why I didn’t even mention it to you. Coming to Ocracoke was exactly what I think I needed to heal, to finally be at peace.”
She looked up at me, so confident. So self-assured. No matter what happened or where she ended up, I was glad her trip to Ocracoke had given her that.
“But,” she continued, “the moment my eyes collided with the memorial, I started to feel uneasy. The panic didn’t kick in until I looked at you.”
“What?” My breath hitched.
“All I could think of was,What if it happens again? What if I lose someone else? What if I lose…you?”
If my heart could stop beating, it would have. Right then, right there on the side of Highway 12.
