“Oh please, you would simply be lounging or shopping or some other useless endeavor that in no way assists your future.”

“My future is set, Mother.”

“And you only cement it further with every bat of your lashes. Listen, I have to go, but you have to get a handle on yourself and learn how to work for things sometimes,” she says as if I don’t already. “Not everything will be handed to you, Jameson.”

No, just my life in an itinerary.

My mother hangs up.

I don’t remember the drive here, and I have no clue how long I’ve been parked in front of the driveway, blindly staring at a house that’s not mine.

I’m only jostled from my numbed state when a pair of dark blue eyes find mine through the windshield, and that’s when I realize it’s Arsen’s foster home that I’m in front of, my own house in view but clearly not where I want to be.

My lips curve to the left and I follow Arsen’s steps to the driver’s side window.

I sigh, my head drops against the seat. “Hi.”

His mouth lifts in the corner and he tips his head.

“My morning sucked.”

He nods, reaching beyond me to put the top down on my convertible. He jerks his chin toward the passenger seat and I not so gracefully climb into it.

He lowers himself behind the wheel and then we’re on the road.

We listen to his favorite playlist and within a few minutes, I recognize the direction we’re headed. It’s toward the cave the boys took me to that first day I slipped inside their car.

God, that day seems like so long ago when, in reality, it wasn’t.

It’s a shitty reminder that time flies.

We park where we did before and walk down to the cave.

There are blankets and what looks like a bag of garbage in the corner, the firepit now has half-burned wood inside it, and there’s a tiny piece of a take-out box that didn’t char sticking out on the side of it, indicating they’ve been here recently.

I almost wonder where I was when they were here, but I shake it off and turn to Arsen when he jerks his chin.

He’s grabbed a backpack that must have been stuffed somewhere and we slip out into the open air again.

He starts to remove his shoes, so I do the same, and he stuffs them inside the pack, my purse and keys with them.

Together, we walk along the beach, and it’s the most relaxing of silence. As we reach the curve of the hillside, the pier in the distance comes into view and a smile breaks free.

“Oh man.” I follow the length out into the ocean. “I haven’t been over here in years.”