Page 5 of Holding On

It doesn’t seem to help much, though. I can’t stop shaking. Everyone thinks I’m cold, and Bryce and Cory run around gathering wood to make a fire on the beach, but I know my shivering has nothing to do with the temperature of the water.

Other guests at The Inn mill around on the beach as well. The waitstaff inside must be busy. Uncle George hasn’t shown up yet. I knew he was coming but had hoped it might not be until tomorrow. He had offered to pick me up at the airport, but I declined.

I sigh. Now isn’t the time to confront him. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to talk to him intimately about anything or even have a real, meaningful conversation. Just be polite.

I haven’t had Atlantic lobster since I was here a dozen years ago, and I’m starving. I’m relieved when I see Chloe’s setting up lobster rolls—we won’t have to pick the meat. Bryce tells me with a hint of pride in his voice that she and Cory had shelled all afternoon. The bowl she brings out to oohs and aahs has to have ten pounds of lobster meat piled high. It’s just packed. There’s also a small crock of butter, a vat of purple Asian coleslaw, and Luke and Mateus set down a cooler of beers in the sand.

“I say we have about two hours before the tide takes it all,” says Luke, slipping an arm around Devon. They kiss and I look away.

Travis nudges me with a toasted bun filled with lobster.

“Chloe puts a thin layer of mayo on the bread, and it’s up to us to drench it all with butter.”

The flimsy paper plate is nearly buckling with the weight of the lobster roll.

With the first bite, I’m officially in heaven. The sweetness in my mouth is almost indescribable. I don’t know how Chloe does it. The bun, which normally would be mush, is fragrant and perfectly toasted.

“This is amazing,” I say around a mouthful. My stomach gurgles with pleasure.

“And the best part,” says Bryce, with half of his lobster roll disappearing in one bite, “is that you don’t have to work for it.”

“Or get sprayed,” says Cory, licking his fingers. He wipes his hand on Mateus’s knee and then looks startled, like he can’t believe he just did that.

“That’s okay, bud,” says Mateus. “You’re right. No shooting water from cracking shells.”

Mateus is the only one in long pants. The bottom cuff of one leg is wet, and he’s still wearing running shoes, while the rest of us are barefoot. I figure he must have forgotten trunks.

By the time croissants, ice cream, and blueberries are served, everyone is draped on the side porch overlooking the water so guests can have the long porch that wraps around. No matter where I am, I seem to have an innate sense of where Travis’s proximity. It’s uncomfortable.

When he disappears inside, my body senses it before I know it. It’s like there’s a tug on a rope that suddenly goes slack.

My family is very small. Just me and my sister, Katrina. And we are opposite people. She’s wild, with attitude and “a lot of sass,” as my mother used to say—both hard and smart. My parents were quiet people, but she pulled them to snapping points. Both were university professors before my mother died, and then my father took early retirement.

George Hamilton is my father’s brother, and Katrina and I have no other family. I don’t have cousins, I don’t have aunts or other uncles, and my father is older than my friend’s parents. Sitting here, enjoying everyone’s company and seeing people touch one another with affection, is a gift.

When Travis pulls Cory onto his shoulders for a twilight walk on the beach and Laurel slips an arm around his waist to join them, a sudden small sob moves from my gut to my heart, and it takes a moment to identify it: homesick.

Then I take a breath and soak myself in reality. I’m being ridiculous and homesick for a home I don’t have and never lived in. I don’t particularly dwell on things I don’t have—it’s not in my character—but there’s a soft stabbing in my heart. As I watch Finn put an arm around Claire, she leans against him and gently kisses his neck. Cory takes his aunt’s hand, and she bends over and kisses the top of his head.

“What do you need, sweetie?”

He points at what’s left of the picked lobster in the bowl.

“You want another roll?”

Cory starts flipping his hands back and forth in excitement.

“Okay, okay.” She laughs. “I’ll help you. I have to go get more bread.” I don’t think Cory notices when she squeezes Finn’s ass before she ducks inside.

I’m aware of Travis climbing the three steps to the porch. Cory fixes a laser focus on him and then starts knocking his hip into one of the wicker chairs.

“Aunt Claire’s coming back,” Travis says.

Cory shakes his head and keeps staring up at his uncle.

I catch Travis’s glance and grin. It’s a killer combo.

“What do you need now?”