“I know Jessup,” Cody said. He’d been on the boat with them that morning. Cody was a little surprised they hadn’t transferred him out of Nantucket. “What did he say?”

“All he said was it was really dumb for those kids to be out swimming at night and even dumber for them to be drinking,” Alyssa said. “He wasn’t wrong.”

“It was insensitive,” Louisa said.

“But it was true,” Alyssa said. “You don’t go swimming in the ocean in the dark when the water is that choppy. You’re just asking to get killed.”

The words hung there, and Cody tried to swat them away, but he couldn’t. They were the smack across the face he didn’t want or need. After all, the reminder of his own poor judgment was as fresh as an open wound thanks to his present company and location.

Louisa’s jaw went slack as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Cody cleared his throat and pushed his chair away from the table. “I should go.”

“So soon?” Maggie stood.

Cody glanced at Louisa, aware that his abrupt departure would say something about himself to her. It would say, I’m not over this yet. I haven’t forgiven myself yet. I haven’t forgiven you, either. Even so, he couldn’t sit at that table for another second.

“I just came to make sure Louisa was okay,” Cody said. “But I have work to do.” He nodded at Louisa, then at Ally. “Thanks for the meal.”

Maggie shuffled behind him as he strode away, making quick work of the distance between the kitchen and the front door, as if he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Because he couldn’t.

She was talking, but he wasn’t listening. Something about a bonfire or a party—and then she added, “I expect you to come visit me now that you’re on the island.”

He gave her a wave and walked out the door, practically racing down the stairs of the little cottage and out to his Jeep. He started the engine and drove around the block, aware that Maggie stood on the front porch, watching him go. He didn’t need to be watched. He needed to be alone.

It was everything. This island. Seaside. The story of this kid. Louisa nearly drowning.

Coming here had been a mistake. And he needed to figure out a way to undo it.

Dear Dad,

I’m sitting in the backyard of our house in Chicago. I’m wearing that black suit Mom picked out for my last homecoming dance—you remember, the one that I can’t stand? I didn’t want to wear it today, either, but they said it was important to dress appropriately for a funeral.