“No, you don’t, and you never will.” Before she could say anything else, I turned and headed towards the bar. This was what life on Anchor would always be like, some random person sticking their nose in my business and telling me how they felt about my life, what they thought I needed to do to heal. Or worse. Bell might’ve forgiven me, but there were plenty of people on this tiny island who hadn’t.

As I reached the gravel lot in back of The Catch, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I hesitated for only a moment before hitting accept. “Hey, man.”

“Ford, how’s island life?”

I paused for a moment, unsure how to answer that one. It was both torture and exactly where I needed to be. There were moments, like the one I’d just encountered, that heated my blood and brought back my worst memories. But there was also a sense of peace on Anchor that I’d forgotten about, something that I’d never find in LA. There was comfort in having my family close. And there was something altogether different about having Bell within arm’s reach. Something that I both wanted to lean into yet didn’t want to look too closely at.

The hesitation as my mind spun cost me, because as one of my closest friends, Austin knew when something was up. “What’s wrong? Is your dad okay?”

I cleared my throat and started walking again, headed for the beach. “Dad’s fine. There’s just a lot of baggage in this place for me.”

Austin was quiet for a moment. “Family stuff?”

Guilt gnawed at my gut. Austin had always been nothing but honest with me. Sure, he’d held his emotions close to the vest, but he’d never hidden huge events of his past from me. I’d hidden what felt like an entire other life from him and our other friend, Liam. “That’s part of it. There’s some stuff in my past…” I struggled with finding the right words. How did you tell someone something like this? “The summer before I left for college, I was in an accident. My girlfriend and her sister were in the car with me. Violet, my girlfriend, didn’t make it.” My voice grew hoarser with each word, catching on the syllables of Vi’s name. “I haven’t been back since.”

The sound of a door closing came across the line. “Ford, I’m so sorry. God, that sounds like such a cop-out. Of course, you know I’m sorry. But I’m not sure what else to say. I just hate that you went through that.”