That single, strange phrase and the memory of those glowing streaks tearing a burning path toward the water. That’s what’s haunted me all these years. And I could never make sense of it.

Until now.

I back away from Cole, but I can’t get as far away as I need to, because my back ends up against the fence. Again.

He reaches for me, one hand on my back. The other in my hair. And I let him pull me toward him.

I’m shaking.

“Hey,” he whispers, low in my ear. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. I promise.”

I feel his lips against mine. Soft and salty. His fingertips against my skin. And I want him so bad that I ache all the way to the middle of my bones.

And that’s how I know once and for all that I’m not dead. Surely that kind of longing is a punishment reserved only for the living.

“Avril,” he says again. “What is it?”

But I can’t answer him, because he was there.

Cole was there.

The night my mother died.

The night I drowned.

It wasn’t just me and my mother, alone on that beach.

My mother was having an affair with Brody Culver. And Cole was there that night.

I don’t know what those two things mean when you add them together.

I don’t know what anything means anymore.

I untangle myself. Pull away. Step back.

Through the open gate.

“I have to go home,” I tell him, and even as the words come out of my mouth, I don’t know what they mean. Home to my bunk in the blue cabin? Home to Dallas? And my father? Or somewhere else entirely?

“Avril!” Cole shouts after me. “Wait!” I need to get to the tree line. I feel too exposed on the perfect grass of his perfect backyard. But I don’t make it, because Cole catches me easily. He grabs my hand. Tries to pull me to his chest. But I jerk away.

“Don’t,” I beg him. “Please.”

My feet are moving again. But this time, Cole doesn’t follow. He lets me go.

I slip and slide my way back through the woods until I see the moon shining on the great green lawn. I step out of the tree line and into the open, like an actress stepping out of the wings and onto the stage.

But I can’t find my light tonight. Even in the glow of the moon, it feels dark.

The fog is really starting to roll in now, and I race it to the cabin. I can’t stand the feeling of it against my skin. Wet and heavy and cold. Like the touch of something dead.