26. Archer
Chapter 26
Archer
W e drive Lottie to the water. It's the only place she ever truly feels calm.
It’s quiet. Oscar turned off the radio as soon as we got in the car, as he took the wheel. I sit in the back with Lottie, holding her as close to me as I can. She doesn’t say a word, but she doesn’t have to. She leans against the window, the water bottle still clutched in her lap like a lifeline. I keep my eyes on the other window so she doesn’t feel watched, but I can see enough of her reflection that I see the way her fingers clench around the plastic, making it crinkle.
We’re giving her space. Not distance.
I text my mom as we pull onto the highway, letting her know that we’re taking Lottie to the beach and that we won’t be home for a while, and I have no intention of rushing her when I know she needs this.
Oscar glances at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes sliding to her like he can’t help himself, then back to me, his eyes asking a silent question.
“The beach,” I tell him. “She’ll feel safest there.”
He nods, taking the next exit. The sun’s already halfway down by the time we get there, the sky bleeding soft oranges and violet blues over the water. The beach is almost empty, just a couple walking their dog, the tide coming in lazy and slow, and the waves turning white as they hit the shore.
It’s exactly what she needs.
Oscar cuts the engine, and for a brief moment, none of us move. Then Lottie opens her door, her black trainers discarded on the floor of the car like an afterthought.
She walks barefoot over the car park's concrete and then onto the cool sand, her steps steady and slow. Oscar and I stay back, not wanting to crowd her. She doesn’t even look back at us, and I’m not surprised. The water pulls at her like it always has, but this time, it’s not to drown the pain, but it’s to release it.
I can’t bring myself to step out. Haven’t been able to since that night. The night I pulled her from the waves, soaked and not breathing. Her heartbeat came back to life under my hands, and I clench them in my lap as phantom beats pound against my palm.
I’ve seen it on a loop every time I close my eyes since then—only in the dream, I’m always too late. Unable to save her.
Lottie walks until the tide washes over her toes, and even from where we’re sitting, we can see how her shoulders drop like something inside her finally lets go.
“She’s strong. This won’t break her,” Oscar signs, his hands move slowly.
I nod. “She shouldn’t have to be.”
Oscar sighs beside me, but we don’t say anything else. The ocean rolls in slow and steady, like it knows not to startle her, and I watch her with something that’s close to obsession.
“She’s been strong too long,” I sign to him while speaking, my voice rougher than I mean it to be. “She deserves soft things. I can see that she’s still breaking.”
Oscar glances at me, his expression unreadable, and then back to Lottie. His fingers twitch in his lap, like he wants to go to her, pull her into his arms, and give her every ounce of calm the sea can’t offer her.
“She’s stronger than you think. You just can’t look past what happened.”
“How can I?” My voice cracks. “It’s why I left the Marines. I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t focus because I was so far from her. Every time I closed my eyes, whether I was across the world or in a barracks in the same state, all I saw was her drowning. And no matter how loud I shouted her name, or reached out for her to take my hand…” I stop. The words feel like knives in my mouth, like they might cut me on the way out and make everything I’m saying a reality.
My eyes lock on Lottie. The water swirls around her calves, gentle but unrelenting as the tide comes in. The kind of pull that doesn’t seem dangerous until it is.
And I hate it because even now, with her right there, safe and breathing, I can’t shake the fear that the ocean’s going to take her again. That she’ll slip, or disappear under the surface, and this time I won’t get to her in time.
My muscles tense with the instinct to run to her and drag her back from the edge, but I don’t because she needs this just like I need her.
She crouches down slowly, letting the wave wash over her hand, fingers trailing through the foam like she’s greeting an old friend.
She’s not drowning. She’s not sinking into the abyss where I can’t reach.
She’s here.
And somehow, that’s what calms the storm in my chest because all I want is for her to be happy.
We give her all the time she needs, not caring how long we sit here waiting for her to come back to us.
When she finally returns, her cheeks glisten with tears, yet she says nothing as she settles back into the backseat. Wrapping herself in one of the cozy blankets we keep in the trunk, she gently rests her head against the window and closes her eyes.
* * *
My parents are in the living room when we walk in. Mom’s already standing there with a mug of tea in her hands for Lottie, and Dad’s standing at the edge of the couch with that familiar stiff posture that only comes out when someone’s hurt or he’s pissed off—this time it’s both.
“Lottie,” Mom says softly, crossing the room in seconds, and takes her from between me and Oscar. “Come sit. I’ve got the chamomile tea you love.”
Lottie hesitates, then sits. Oscar settles on the armrest beside her, and I hover at the doorway until my dad looks at me.
“What happened?” he asks quietly, but I can see the tic in his jaw. He’s pissed, and I know that look. It’s the same one I saw the day he stood in front of a crooked judge and smiled like a predator before quietly ending his career with a few well-placed calls.
“They cornered her. Dragged her into a classroom and tried to demand answers.”
Dad’s jaw clenches, his hands curl into fists at his sides. “Roman, Crew, and Elijah, I’m assuming?”
I nod, hating the way Lottie flinches at the sounds of their names. “Roman’s father had the audacity to call me this evening. Didn’t know who I was,” Dad chuckles. “Thought I was ‘just someone in admin’ when I sent him a strongly worded email about harassing female students…” he turns to Lottie, making sure she’s listening to him carefully. “I know exactly who these men are to you, sweetheart, and his dad has no clue that it was you they cornered, but I made it clear that it was not tolerated on my campus.”
“I already have their files. Dorm room numbers and classes,” Mom says, turning to my girl, and brushing her hair gently behind her ear. “They will never come near you again, darling. I promise you that.”
Lottie tries to hide her flinch from the contact, but Mom is an angel who doesn’t take any offence and pulls her closer into her side like she can protect her no matter what. My hands clench with the urge to take her into my arms and soothe her.
Dad’s smile is sharp and humorless. “I reminded him who I was, and I told him if he didn’t get his son to heel, I’d make sure he would regret it.” He looks at me, then at Lottie. “If you want them gone, sweetheart, permanently, we can make that happen. Quietly.”
“Will,” Mom says calmly, smiling sweetly at Dad. “If I make one call, Roman’s father won’t know what hit him, and Elijah will be lucky if any of his businesses survive… That Crew boy is making himself suffer enough. He’s no threat. Let me handle it, darling.”
Oscar watches us all, taking it all in as we move our hands as we talk. A habit we all learned when I decided he was going to be my best friend at the age of twelve.
Lottie stares down at the mug in her hands, fingers trembling slightly. She doesn’t say yes, but then she looks up, eyes red-rimmed, her voice scratchy. “They’re not worth it.”
Mom gasps, her hand flying to her mouth as she stares at Lottie with tears in her eyes. “Sweetheart,” she chokes.
Lottie smiles softly at Mom before turning to the rest of the room. “I don’t want anything to happen to them. I just want to be around people who don’t ask me to bleed for them.”
Dad nods, respecting her decision. “It’s late, and you need rest. We’ll handle it if they start anything else, and we’ll make it clear that any power they were used to having doesn’t apply here.”
Mom presses a kiss to Lottie’s temple again. “No one touches you again. Not without consequences.”
I move finally, pulling her up to stand and keeping her hand in mine. “Are you staying?” I sign to Oscar.
“Where else would I go?” he stands, following us out of the room like a silent shadow and follows us up the stairs until we’re standing in front of Lottie’s room.
Lottie turns to face us. “I’ll see you both in the morning.” She gestures, nodding her head in goodnight, but I stop her before she can shut the door in our faces.
“Not so fast. If you think I’m sleeping away from you tonight, you have another thing coming…” I brush past her, ignoring the hitch in her breath, before I think too much into it and pull the duvet covers from the closet. Throwing one to Oscar and grabbing the spare pillows, we set up camp on her bedroom floor, close enough to her bed that I can hear her breathing without being a tripping hazard for her in the morning.