I picture him. Eyes closed. One foot in front of the other. Along the top of the windy cliff. And I ache for him. For both of us.

“I remembered things tonight,” I say. “During that scene.” Because I owe him at least a little truth.

“What kind of things?” Cole’s voice is full of sharp edges.

“I won’t get that close again. I promise.” He doesn’t look like he believes me. “I just need to keep a little distance.”

And I need to figure out what I’m going to do next.

Cole walks me back to my little blue cabin. Lex is sitting on the porch step waiting for me.

I let Cole pull me close for another kiss before we say good night. “I’m right next door,” he whispers. His hand is on my cheek, and his eyes are locked on mine. “I’m sorry about last night. Next time you get lost, I’ll find you. I swear.”

I nod, and I want so much to make him the same promise. I want to tell him that I’ll pull him back from the jagged edge. But I don’t know if that’s even possible. And I don’t want to lie.

When Cole heads off toward the other cabin, I go and sit next to Lex on the steps. He doesn’t say anything. He just hands me his half-smoked cigarette and digs another one out for himself.

“I thought you were out,” I tell him.

He shrugs. “I bought a few off George. I figure he can’t bust me for smoking shit he sold me in the first place.”

“Good point,” I say, and then the two of us just sit there smoking in silence, watching the fog creep up the lawn in our direction.

“You okay?” he finally asks me.

“I don’t even know how to answer that,” I tell him.

Lex nods and ashes his cigarette with a quick flick of his wrist. A few more silent minutes slip by. He takes a long drag and blows smoke up toward the stars.

“We should go to bed,” I say. “Fog’s coming in.”

But Lex doesn’t move.

“What’s been going on with you, Av?” he asks me. “And don’t fucking tell me it’s nothing.”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m remembering things, I think. But it’s hard to make sense of it all. I’m not sure what’s real anymore.”

“Tell me what you need.” The words are so simple, but they make me want to cry. Because I don’t think anyone’s ever said them to me before.

“I need you,” I tell him. “I need a friend.”

I need someone to keep from slipping away.

Or being dragged out by the tide.