His voice fractures into a million sharp pieces, and he looks out at the waves like they will drag him under and kill him … like they already have once before and now he’s going to be made to drown again. His eyes are wet with tears and rain, but there’s something else there, too. Anger. The defeated kind. The kind that only comes after long nights of despair and bewilderment and wondering what you could have done differently, if you could have saved them.

It hits me all at once: Nolan Endsley has lost someone, too. And I’d wager it had something to do with water.

I squeeze his hand once, trying to catch his eye, but he’s unmoving, staring at the lake, and we’re running out of time. I’m worried Wally will try to move on his own and get swept out beyond reach.

I have to do it alone.

In all the stories I’ve read of kick-ass women who save the day, none of them have ever been short, muscularly puny, and devoid of magical abilities. Come to think of it, none of them risked life and limb to save a mongrel from a watery grave, either. They were all too smart for that.

But I’m not doing it for Wally. I’m not doing it for N. E. Endsley, either.

I’m doing it for the boy who’s hunched over at the waist again, the boy who—when I thought my grief would tear me in two—showed me photo after photo until the pain shrank back down to something manageable.

I’m doing it for Jenna. Because she saved Nolan first, and I must finish what she started.

The wind whistles as another crash of thunder courses through my body. I don’t say anything to Nolan as I begin to inch my way toward the lighthouse, but I can’t stop the low, guttural noise I make when a wave sweeps up to hit me, either. I have nothing to hold on to, nothing with which to brace myself, so I think heavy thoughts and wait for the lashing to pass.

Wally is barking, evidently happy that someone is coming to his rescue. I grip the rocky pathway with my toes when another wave comes, frozen just a few feet up the walkway.

Something hits my shoulder, and fear of being knocked downward races through me, but then it’s grabbing at my hand.

Nolan’s eyes are narrowed to slits, like maybe if he can’t fully see the storm, it can’t see him.

“Don’t talk about what we’re about to do,” he says through gritted teeth. “Just don’t.”