The smell burrows its way into my nose.

Before I go in to bed, Cole presses a piece of green sea glass into my hand.

“For protection?” I ask him. But he shakes his head.

“To help you remember me,” he says. “Next time.”

“You’re scaring me,” I tell him. But he just pulls me into another kiss, and when it’s over, he’s smiling at me. “What?” I ask him.

Cole touches my arm, and I feel the heat from his fingertips radiating out through my body.

“Do you want to know how the book ends?” he asks me.

I can’t answer him. The lump in my throat is too big.

I look down at our feet, but he tilts my chin up so he can see my face. And then he asks again. His voice is warm and soft, like a winter coat.

“Do you want to know how the book ends, Avril?”

My heart is in ten thousand pieces, but I still know my line.

“That would ruin the surprise.”

“But what if it makes you sad?” he asks, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from my face. His voice is barely a whisper.

Wind in the dune grass.

“I’d rather take my time to find out all the lovely things that happen along the way, without worrying about the ending.” I press myself into his chest. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I think I would, too,” Cole says. He’s pulling me tighter against him. “Now that you mention it.”

He kisses me one more time.

And then he’s gone.

The next day is Sunday. Our last day off at Whisper Cove. It’s supposed to be the calm before our final wild week. I spend the day in the library pouring over my mother’s notebook, but I don’t find much. There are some things in there about her and Glory. Just little notes about the things they did together.

How it felt the first time they kissed.

And I guess that’s why Glory didn’t want me to have it.

There are more notes labeled with those initials, too. B. C. And I still don’t know what they mean. Phrases like love isn’t enough and no promises. And scribbled adjectives like lonely and secretive and passionate. But if my mother was in love with Glory, I can’t figure out who B. C. could be.

I keep waiting for Cole to find me. I want to show him the passages I’ve highlighted. The parts I don’t understand. But he never shows up.

At breakfast on Monday, it hits us all that this really is the beginning of the end. Our last week together. There are no classes or work assignments these last few days. With the curtain going up on Friday night, we’re focusing on the show. And I’m grateful for the fact that I don’t have to spend my afternoons filing invoices with someone who probably murdered my mother.