But then the quiet falls as the sun begins to set. A little bit of a chill cools the air, causing goose bumps to rise along my arms.

Jack trails a finger from my shoulder down to where the water meets my hands, doing nothing to help the whole goose bump situation. “Do you want to head back inside?”

Shaking my head, I cross my arms around myself to bring a little warmth. “It’s too pretty to leave now.”

“You should see the sunrise.”

“I think I will on Saturday.” I make a mental note to leave myself plenty of time in the morning to actually take it in and enjoy it before rushing to catch the train. “What was it like growing up here?”

Jack skims his hands over the water, making little ripples circle out around us. “Honestly, at the time I kind of hated it.”

“Really?” I can’t imagine Jack’s hating anything, let alone something so beautiful.

“We’re pretty isolated out here, and it was always a long drive to get to my friends’ houses. I’m an only child, so a lot of the time it felt kind of lonely. I had to find ways to occupy myself, keep myself entertained.” He shrugs and a small smile starts at the corner of his lips. “But now I only think about the good parts. Summers on the beach and barbecuing with my dad and baking cookies with my mom.”

“Funny how memory works that way.” I try not to think about how my own memories are the opposite swing of the pendulum. I’m sure there were good moments, positive experiences, somewhere in my childhood, but none of them seemed to stick. Instead my brain focuses on the singular constant refrain You’ll never be enough. I’ve mostly boxed up said negative refrains, tucked them away in a back corner of my mind, but every so often they jump out at me. Like every time I even begin to think about taking things further with Jack.

You’ll never be enough.

“I’m really glad you’re here, Sadie.” The words are spoken so softly that if we weren’t standing only inches apart, I don’t think I would’ve heard them. And they’re so opposed to my internal dialogue, I almost brush them off.

But I don’t, and they chase away any trace of cold, push the hurtful words to a back corner of my brain. “Me too.”

Eleven

By the time we get back to the patio, the sun is beginning to set, the sky turning a deep blue that blends in with the cove water. There’s a real chill in the air now, one I didn’t expect, and I shiver as I slip my T-shirt dress over my head. It does little to bring me warmth, so I half-run back into the house, already dreaming of a hot shower and my pajamas.