I nod and then look at him, tears filling my eyes. “She wasn’t wearing a seat belt.”

“It’s not your fault, Jackie.”

“I should have been there,” I whisper, and he looks at me for a long moment before starting the truck and heading for Waikiki.

I pack as I make phone calls to Northwest Airlines to see if I can get on a flight home tonight, but there’s nothing leaving before tomorrow at one p.m., and I don’t get into Seattle until ten. I’d be showing up at the hospital at midnight tomorrow, and I can’t wait another twenty-four, forty-eight hours to see my daughter. I’ve got to go now. I don’t care where I have to fly to—a red-eye into Los Angeles and then a morning flight to Sea-Tac, or into Las Vegas and then San Francisco and Seattle. Just get me on a plane.

I call Hawaiian. Same thing.

Kai’s uncomfortable with my pacing, so he leaves to drop his time card in the mail slot at the Hans Hedemann Surf Shop. After he’s gone, I head to the hotel’s business center and get online to see if Expedia can give me any other flight options.

At Expedia, I start inputting all possible flight combinations. Finally, I find a red-eye flight out of Honolulu tonight, arriving in San Francisco, where I’ll hop on a plane to Portland and from Portland to Seattle. It means thirteen hours of flying and two connections, but at least I can be with Jessica by noon tomorrow.

I purchase the ticket, print my e-ticket boarding pass, and return to my room.

Kai arrives back at the hotel just as I finish packing. I tell him I’ve got a ticket and am leaving in two hours.

He offers to take me to the airport, but I tell him it’s not necessary. “I know you’ve got things you need to do, groceries to buy, bills to pay. Take care of your stuff. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t mind, girl.”

I know he doesn’t mind, but I also know that this is it. I won’t be coming back.

I can’t do this anymore, can’t keep returning or trying to make something happen where nothing can happen.

Kai’s been correct all along. He said we were from different places, and he’s right. I’m from a place called home. Family. Responsibility.

Kai’s from the island, and he’s about living the good life, which means no responsibility, no commitments, no pressure, nothing to take away from the surf and sun and fun.

Fun. I feel my insides pinch. I’d like to have fun—I’ve been trying to have fun—but at what cost? At what cost to my children?

“I think I’ll just take a cab.”

His jaw’s hard. “Why spend the extra thirty bucks?”