I groan, leaning to pick up a rock from the shallow water. Up close, I can see strange little sunbursts imprinted on one side.

“Coral fossils,” Nolan says absently. “They’re called Petoskey stones.”

We both stare at the rock in my palm until my heart leaves my throat.

“Jenna … She had everything mapped out for us, and her parents act like it’s their job to make sure the last one standing upholds the plan. It’s not like I can say no. I have no excuse to say no.”

Nolan looks out at the horizon when he asks, “Why wouldn’t you say no? Because of the money?”

“I mean, partly, I guess,” I say. “I—my mom—we can’t afford college. But … I don’t know. I’ve never been sure of what I want to do, so I might as well do this, right?”

“No. Tell them thanks but no thanks and figure out what it is you want,” Nolan says. Like it’s obvious. Like it wouldn’t be ripping out the Williamses’ hearts and squashing them for sport.

“Oh, okay,” I say, sarcasm and bitterness leaking into my voice. “And you can call your publisher and tell them you’re ready to publish the third Orman book.”

Nolan stands back like I’ve slapped him.

“That’s different,” he says. “It’s not so simple.”

“Why not?” I turn the stone over and over in my hand, and as it dries, the little sunbursts disappear.

“You know it’s different.”

“I know it’s hard for you because you’re not sure what you want to do yet. It’s obvious you’re not ready to move forward with Orman. Well, it’s the same for me, Nolan. The exact same thing.”

“But it’s not,” he says. “You are letting Jenna call the shots when you should be the one deciding.”

“Jenna is dead,” I say. The last word comes out hard. It’s my turn to be hurt. “She can’t tell me what to do anymore.”

“That’s a half-truth and you know it,” Nolan says. “The dead can hold more sway than the living.”

I flinch but don’t answer. Agitated, he turns, sloshing back through the water to the shore and his discarded sneakers. I don’t follow, even when he stops and crooks his arm, waiting for me to take it.

When I don’t move, he turns his head.

“Come on, Amelia.”

“I’m not Wally,” I protest. “I don’t come when called.”

He rolls his eyes at me, smiling softly, with apology. The line between us pulls from where it has been sagging in the water.

“Amelia, come with me. There’s something I need to show you. Let me…” He takes a step toward me, extending his hand. “Let me take you to Orman.”