“In some ways, it’s always about that. But it’s different now, with us. Or it should be. I’m okay with the way things are—or I was. Didn’t I just tell you I was happy? What I need and want? If I have to tell you, give you a damn list, then it’s not what I need and want. I’m not asking you for declarations. I’m not asking for promises. I can live in the moment, and be happy in the moment. I’m entitled to be hurt and upset when someone like Linda scrapes me raw. And I’m entitled to keep it to myself until I grow fresh skin. I don’t need you taking care of it. I don’t need or want you to make it all better. I don’t need you pushing at me about my feelings when I never push at you.”

“No,” he murmured, “you don’t. Why don’t you?”

“Maybe I don’t want to hear the answers. No, I don’t want to hear them,” she said before he could speak. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say when I’ve ripped myself open and I feel like a fool.You can’t expect me to. I need to walk this off. I need to pull myself together. You need to let me.You need to go away.”

He watched her run down the beach. He could go after her, he thought. He could catch her, and he could make her listen. And if he did, she wouldn’t hear him.

He let her go.

She needed more than words, he realized. And he wanted to give her more. She might have ripped herself open, he thought, but by doing so she’d shown him, very clearly, what was inside him.

SHE RAN IT OFF, WALKED IT OFF, SETTLED HERSELF. THE TRUTH WAS, she’d come to understand, that moment on the beach would have happened at some time, at some place. She couldn’t have coasted forever. Neither of them could or would. Better it happened sooner than later.

If it ended things with Del, she’d heal. She knew how to tend her own wounds, accept her own scars.

He’d be kind; she’d hate it. Then they’d move on. Somehow. She went up to her room by the outside stairs, hoping to avoid everyone until morning.

But her three friends waited for her.

Emma rose. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I said anything to him about Linda.”

“It’s not your fault, and it doesn’t matter.”

“It is, and it does. I’m sorry.”

“It’s my mother who set off the bomb,” Mac said. “I’m sorry.”

“He’s my brother.” Parker held out a hand. “I’m sorry.”