“You were there that night,” I tell him. “I remembered that.” I don’t tell him about the stars. My old nightmare. I’m afraid to talk about that. It still has so much power over me. “I know you were there.”

“What night?” he asks me.

“The night my mother died.” I swallow the sick feeling that’s rising up in my throat. “You and your dad were both there.”

Cole looks like I hit him in the face. He stares at me for a few seconds. Then he shakes his head.

“No,” Cole says. “I wasn’t there. I’d remember that.”

“On the cliff,” I tell him. “Behind your house.”

“I wasn’t there, Avril.” Cole looks so confused.

“You were,” I tell him. “We both were. And your father threw my mother into the sea.”

“No.”

“They were having an affair, and I think she must have threatened to tell everyone. To tell your mom. And he must’ve panicked.”

Cole is shaking his head. Blinking hard.

“No way,” he says. “That’s crazy. He wouldn’t—”

“Cole!” My voice is rising. I hear the hysterical edge underneath it. “He tried to kill me, too.”

But the water took me home. Back to the beach at Whisper Cove.

“You’re confused,” Cole says. “Things are all mixed up. You said that yourself.”

He reaches for me, but I pull away.

“Don’t tell me I’m confused.” I spit the words at him. “I know what I remember.”

It’s taken me twelve years. But I know now.

“You don’t remember that, because it never happened.” Cole sounds so certain. But I know he’s wrong. And I can’t be here anymore. Talking to him like this. I let go of his hand and walk into the fog.

“Avril!” Cole shouts. He’s forgotten all about waking up whoever is sleeping in that nightmare version of the farmhouse. “Don’t.” He grabs for me, but I’ve already slipped away. “Fuck!” I hear the frustration in his voice. “Avril, come on. Jesus Christ.” And then I hear the frustration turn to fear. “Where the fuck are you?”

And the thing is, I’m still standing right there. So close I could reach out and touch him. But he can’t see me. I might as well be a ghost. So I just turn and walk. I can’t even tell what direction I’m walking. One step after another in the blinding fog. No idea where I’m going. At one point I get tangled up in something. It grabs at me. Wraps around my face. And I gasp. Struggle free.

Damp cloth.

I feel the long ties of a cotton apron. Overall buttons.

Laundry hanging on the line.

My legs have turned to Jell-O, but I keep walking until I can’t go any farther. Then I sink down in the wet grass and wrap my arms around my chest.

I’m lost.