Page 19 of Lost and Found

“First of all, didn’t say it did,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But for the record, hedoesalso look like he sits crisscross applesauce to jerk off. Yuck.” He keeps on going before I can process that particular anecdote. “Secondly, I heard him having a conversation out here earlier, too. I’ve had more scintillating dialogue with stale bread.” He nudges my arm. “So? You with him or what?”

I blink heavily, my skin buzzing under the influence now . . . from the weed or him, I’m not sure. “Just hooked up a few times,” I say.

He slices a lethal look at the window. “I hate him.”

My ribs hurt with the laugh that bursts out of me. “You don’t evenknowhim, Silas!”

His eyes track back to mine, brow raised indignantly. “I wish him grievous bodily harm,” he insists.

“You do not!” My cheeks pull so tight they ache.

He lets his expression relax. “All right, maybe not. But I do hope he gets one of those painful swollen taste bud things right on the tip of his tongue, and I hope it lasts forever.”

“You’re insane.”

“You have no idea.”

Our chuckling fades into a weighted silence. “Great line, by the way,” he says. “The porn thing.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. It’s layered. You got him instantly searching his memory bank, doubting himself. Unsure what to say.” His mouth turns down at the corners. “Don’t love that he was trying to picture you with a cock in your mouth, though.”

There’s a quick, sharp tug behind my belly button. I go liquid below the waist and nearly slip off the railing before he catches me by the elbow. Hearing the wordscock in your mouthcome out of Silas reminds me that we are very much adults, now—inane banter notwithstanding. My feelings are explicitly adult at the moment.

“How about you?” I ask. “You with anyone?”

He makes a show of looking around before landing back on me. “Tonight? Not yet.”

I scoff and glare at him sideways. “Don’t be a dog.”

He sticks his tongue out and pants, and I’m laughing again despite myself.

We’ve moved closer together at some point. I can feel the warmth through his hoodie soaking into my bare skin.

“I should probably order my ride,” I say and wish it didn’t sound so half-hearted.

A muscle flexes in his jaw. His throat works on a hard swallow. “Or you could walk me home?” he asks quietly.

“I shouldn’t,” I say, heartbeat deafening in my ears. Something tugs again, unspooling and winding into a new shape.

“Okay. I’ll wait with you, then.”

“I shouldn’t, but yes,” I blurt. “I’ll walk you home.”

CHAPTER 7

Now

Bea

The following week doesn’t go by in a flash but clops along as I go from frantic, near-angry determination to settling into a new sort of acceptance. I continue to look for rentals every day to no avail. I pack the minimal things I need. Mostly, I do my best to slow down. I allow myself to think of Merritt more and more, renewing my sense of purpose every time I do. The pain feels more like a reminder than a reason not to go through with this. I even start carrying her letter around with me.

On a morning that is clearer and marginally less frigid than normal, I pull over on my way to work to watch the sunrise over Founder’s Point. I walk down the winding wooden stairs that lead to the beach, onto sand that’s hard-packed and still frozen here in spring. It’ll still be cold at the height of summer, so right now, I can feel the bite of it through my shoes.

I don’t think it’s a miraculous sunrise or anything, but it’s still . . . still beautiful. It’s still something worth seeing, I think. Out past the haystack rock formations, the sun glows like a ripe slice of lemon peeking out from ice cream clouds, its yellow reach bleeding into a periwinkle sky. And below all of it sits a dark, rough ocean. Rocky, miserable sand. Sharp and craggy islands that look like sentinels guarding the shore. Gray on grayon gray, just like that painting from the lawyer’s office, twin to the one that sat above Merritt while she was infused with poison that was supposed to save her life.

That sun has some fucking nerve, doesn’t it? Downright ebullient above so much bleak uncertainty below. I scowl at it until my eyes water in the breeze.