Page 72 of Island Girl

“I made a mistake,” Merritt said. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears. Thin and hollow. “I thought I could help.”

“I know.”

“I made it worse. I made everything worse.”

Justin didn't argue. He just stood beside her, solid and steady, while she tried to remember how to breathe.

“He'll come back,” she said. “Won't he?”

Justin was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was careful. “I don't know. Ray's been coming here almost every night for two years. It's the only place he goes besides his trailer and the dock. If he stops coming here…”

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.

Merritt thought about what Ray had said. There's just waiting for it to end. The words echoed in her head, terrible and final.

“I have to tell Paula.”

“I'll call her. You should go home.”

“I can finish my set.”

“No.” Justin's voice was gentle but firm. “You're done for tonight. I'll cover for you. Go home, Merritt. Get some rest.”

She wanted to argue. She wanted to go back inside and play until her fingers bled, as if music could undo what she'd done. But she knew he was right. She was in no shape to perform.

“Will you let me know if you hear anything? If he comes back?”

“I will.”

She walked to her car in a daze, her legs moving withoutconscious direction. She sat behind the wheel for a long time, staring at nothing, replaying the conversation in her head. Every word she'd said. Every word he'd said back.

You're just some girl who wandered in off the beach and thinks she can save people with her pretty little songs.

She'd thought she was helping. She'd convinced herself that her intentions were good, that reaching out was the right thing to do. But Paula had warned her. Be patient with him. Let him be. And she hadn't listened. She'd pushed when she should have waited. She'd spoken when she should have stayed silent.

And now Ray was gone, and she had no idea if he was ever coming back.

She drove home to the bungalow, her hands tight on the wheel, her eyes burning with tears she refused to let fall. The seafoam green French doors were waiting for her, the wind chime tinkling softly in the breeze. She went inside and stood in the dark kitchen, looking at the vase Crocker had given her, the blues and greens swirling together like the Gulf on a cloudy day.

A home needs something handmade in it. Something with a soul.

She'd tried to give Ray her music. She'd tried to offer him a piece of her soul. And he'd thrown it back in her face because she hadn't earned the right to offer it in the first place.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Justin.

Called Paula. She's on her way to Ray's trailer. Will update you when I know more.

She stared at the words until they blurred. Then she set down her phone, walked out to the deck, and sat in the darkness, listening to the waves.

Somewhere out there, Ray was alone with his demons. And it was her fault.

She'd wanted to help. She always wanted to help. But helping wasn't her gift. It was her curse. The same instinct that haddriven her to sacrifice so much for her mother had just driven a broken man further into the dark.

Her father's voice echoed in her memory. You can't trade your life for someone else's. You can only lose both.

She'd thought she understood that lesson. She'd thought she'd learned.

But here she was, making the same mistake all over again.