Chapter 42
forty-two
ORION
I see her walking home from the grocery store on Wednesday. Her groceries are in the same oversized tote on one shoulder. It’s hot as hell out even though it’s November. Her usual perky ponytail is drooping and her skin is covered in a sheen of sweat.
I roll down my passenger-side window. “Carina, let me give you a ride.”
“No!” She doesn’t even look at me.
“Seriously, we’re going to the same place. It’s not a waste of gas.”
“That’s a slippery slope,” she says in a mocking tone.
That’s when I notice it. Her limp. She’s favoring her right leg and it’s not the bag. The grimace I thought was annoyance at me is really pain. “Why are you limping?”
“I’m not limping.”
She’s definitely limping. “No strings attached. Let me drive you home.”
She doesn’t answer. She keeps walking.
“Fucking hell.” I drive the remaining two blocks and park in my garage. I wait in front of hers.
No matter which door she goes through, she has to climb stairs. I don’t want her to lift her groceries and hurt herself any more than she has. I’m right here. I can help her.
She greets me with a glare.
“Give me the bag,” I say.
She doesn’t fight me when I reach for the strap. “What are you doing?” she asks.
“What does it look like? I’m helping my hurt neighbor with her groceries. Isn’t that a normal thing for friends to do?” I’ll prove to her we can be friends, even if the breakup didn’t need to happen in the first place. She might have always thought I would leave if things ended, but I’m not going anywhere.
I shouldn’t wish to convince her I’m staying. I don’t know if she’ll ever accept it.
“I don’t need your fucking help.”
Once in the kitchen, I set the bag on her counter and lean against the sink. Here, I’m out of her way but I can watch her move. “What happened to your leg?” I ask.
“None of your business.” She methodically unpacks her food. It’s obvious every step is painful.
“Maybe not, but you took care of me when I was hurt. Do you really think I’d be able to see you in pain and ignore it?”
She braces her hands on the counter. “It’s a high hamstring strain. It’s a common yoga injury.”
“Okay, should you see a doctor? I can drive you.”
“No, I just need to rest it,” she says.
“Then why did you walk to the grocery store?” She has a perfectly functioning hybrid. She doesn’t need to be this stubborn.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Orion.” Her voice changes. It’s perfectly pleasant. As if my presence means nothing to her and whatever we had before meant nothing.
I should let it go, walk away now and preserve whatever friendship or neighborliness I can. But I don’t. Because she hurt me. She refuses to see what’s directly in front of her, and I’m done giving her the benefit of the doubt. She’s afraid. I need her brave.
I need closure.
“No, you’re right. You never did ask for my opinion. But I’ve always given it. So, listen to me now.” She may take emotion out of her voice, but I let her hear my anger and my pain. “I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough reason for me to stay. I’m sorry I’ve been downplaying my feelings for weeks. I thought you knew. Or knew enough. I’m staying anyway, but I would stay for you alone.”
“I didn’t ask for any of this, Orion,” she says. “You can’t blame me for your feelings because I didn’t start this. You’re the one who blew into my life like a hurricane. I didn’t ask you to move next door. Or to kiss me on your boat. You were always there. And I didn’t choose any of this. I was fine before you. I’ll be fine after you.”
I lean back again, the wall catching me so I don’t fall. I’m not sure she believes the last thing. “You were with me every step of the way,” I say.
“Maybe, in the moments. I never had the chance to stop and think about what I wanted. We agreed to a fling. That’s all I wanted. It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about me,” she says.
She kissed me first, but I let her know I was open to it and she walked through the door. I’ve always been afraid I was convenient for her, that any obstacle would have prevented us from hooking up. If I lived a few streets over, or heaven forbid, the mainland, we would have never connected the same way, even if we had the same friend group and I was around the same amount. But I’m done playing games and not saying everything I feel to make her comfortable. She can either handle the full force of my emotions or she can’t. She can hide from her friends, but she’s never been able to hide from me and I won’t let her start now.
I set my anger and my pain at what she’s saying aside, because she’s so woefully transparent. She wants this. But she’s so scared to take what she wants for herself. She’s afraid she’ll lose it. Lose me. She’s pushing me away instead, and she will take me down with her. “Choose me now. You’re hiding behind your rules and your fear, rather than admitting your feelings. You could have everything you’ve wanted if you pick me now.”
She growls. I swear she fucking growls. “It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is. Be in a relationship with me. Without boundaries and without reservations.”
“You can’t possibly want me back.” Her voice is disbelieving.
“I love you, Carina. We can work this out, but you have to give me something.”
“I have nothing left to give you.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “There’s no point in trying for more.”
“Right. You’ve already given everything away. Well, I tried. I gave you a chance. Twice now. At least I’ll always be able to say that.” I’ve fought more for her than I have for anyone else. Every moment of it was worth it.
But I won’t sail where I’ll run aground. There is no passage forward for me here.
She stares at me blankly, clearly done with me in her house. I walk out, wondering if this is the last time I will be inside these walls. I thought I understood her. But if she won’t even look at herself, then I don’t know what I can expect from her.
In the end, the wedding would have been ruined anyway.
It wasn’t anything they could’ve prevented, but the reality of living in Florida and it being fall—Tropical Storm Thea formed in the gulf in the days leading up to the weekend, and I did everything I could to prepare.
I have my checklist. I know what needs to be done.
I knew this was a risk when I moved here. It was one reason why people told me it was a bad investment to buy a house on the beach. But I deluded myself into thinking I had more time before it would impact me. I thought I’d appreciate the beach more and the way the waves collapsed on the sand. I thought I’d be able to memorize every dune between my house and Paradise.
I thought I’d be able to keep Carina.
I field phone calls from my family asking if I’m going to evacuate. We don’t have orders to, and I decide to stay. Carina’s voice echoes in my head.
I’m going down with the island.
She doesn’t mean that. She’d be the first person to heed an evacuation order. She wouldn’t risk having to be rescued and taking resources away from people who truly needed them or putting the lives of first responders in jeopardy.
I take care of the boats in the marina, securing them as much as possible. There is a chance I could lose them. But that’s what insurance is for, I remind myself. I run my hand over the helm of the Twisted Rigging . I always thought I’d be devastated if I lost this boat. This once was my home, an external manifestation of my soul.
But nothing currently compares to the anguish in my soul at losing Carina.
When I pull into my driveway, I see Christian putting up shutters with her, and I’m so thankful she has help. They also placed sandbags in front of all her doors. She’ll be safe, but I want to ride out the storm with her.
Christian waves at me, and then with a nod from Carina he hops the fence into my yard.
“You got everything you need?” he asks.
“I think so. Boats are secure. I have water, batteries, nonperishable food.”
He looks back at Carina moving her patio furniture to the garage. I cringe thinking about her leg. Has she rested enough? “You’re more than welcome to stay with Autumn and me. We have a guest room.”
He knows the answer I’m going to give. But he had to ask.
I stay where she stays.
“I’ll be fine,” I say. “The storm surge shouldn’t be bad.”
He nods. I’ve obsessively checked the weather and radar for years. The most important part of sailing is knowing the wind. But for the last couple of days, we all have obsessively checked the models and the predictions. I can talk spaghetti models and if we should be paying more attention to the Euro track all day.
“If you change your mind, let me know.” He claps me on the back and then heads back to Carina’s place.
I go inside, to the house I thought I’d give up everything for. I thought this place would force me to put down roots and invest in the community around me.
I could lose it all. Not in this storm, but there will always be another one. Carina has always been right.
I don’t care about the house or my business or my boats. It means nothing if I don’t have her.
My phone vibrates on the table with a text.
Alex Barnes
Hurricane party at Paradise! 5pm!
At least some people aren’t concerned.
I look at the gulf where the waves roll fiercer than I’ve seen before.
A lone figure stands on the beach, with her blond hair whipping in the wind.