Page 112 of Pull Me Under

‘It’s the most honest one I’ve got.’

I should leave it there. Should let the sunrise and the salt air smooth it over, file it under another beautiful moment that doesn’t quite commit to anything.

But I’m tired of beautiful moments that dissolve in daylight.

‘I need more than that,’ I say. ‘Not a label. I’m not a label kind of girl. Just— I need to know this is something. I’ve got all these squishy feelings and well, in case you can’t tell, I’m not really the squishy type.’

‘You’ve got squishy⁠—’

My voice threatens to crack and I wrestle it steady. ‘I came back to Sea Salt Bay because I want to stop drifting, Jude. I want one place, one life, one thing I don’t have to walk away from. And then you happened. And now I need to know if you’re part of the staying or part of why I might have to eventually leave.’

The waves fill the silence. Rolling in, pulling back. Patient.

‘I’m part of the staying,’ he says. Quiet. Certain. Like he’s testing the words and finding them true. ‘You’re the realest thing in my life, Brynn. The only thing that feels like mine.’

I want to say words that deserve that, but life isn’t scripted, and these big emotions come when the moment is small.

‘Okay,’ I say.

‘Okay?’

‘Yeah. Okay.’ I lean into him, relaxing against his strength as his arm comes around me, his chin rests on the top of my head. ‘We’re doing this, then.’

‘We’re doing this.’ A pause. ‘Whatever this is.’

‘We’ll figure it out.’

‘Will we?’

‘Probably not. But we’ll try.’

He laughs. A real one, warm and startled, and I feel it vibrate through his ribs into mine.

‘We should do this more often,’ I say, after a while. ‘The sunrise thing. The talking thing.’

‘We should.’ He pulls me closer. ‘But we’d have to be careful. If anyone saw us before I’ve had a chance to talk to Dad…’

I tilt my face up to his, trying to ignore the small pulse of sharp electricity behind my sternum. ‘And are you? Going to tell your dad?’

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers are warm, slightly rough.

‘Yeah.’ He leans in, kisses me – slow and soft, the kind that feels like a promise. ‘Yeah, I am.’

I believe him. I do.

It’s just that believing someone and trusting them to follow through are two very different things. And I’ve spent a lifetime learning the difference.

The almost-getting-caught happens the following Monday.

We’re behind the lifeboat station, which is stupid, so stupid, but training ran late and everyone else had left and Jude pressed me against the wall and I stopped thinking.

His mouth on my neck. My hands in his hair. The salt smell of him mixing with diesel and underneath it all, just Jude, a scent I’d know anywhere now.

‘We shouldn’t be doing this here,’ I manage.

‘Probably not.’

‘Someone could see⁠—’