“Yeah,” I tell him. “I didn’t know much about her, either.” And that’s certainly not a lie, but I’m thinking of a photograph that I have tucked away inside a notebook back in Dallas. My mother with long hair—icy blonde like mine—in a black cap and gown. College graduation. She’s laughing, and her arm is around another young woman, this one with hair as dark as my mother’s is blonde.

Willa Culver. The famous playwright. Only she wasn’t famous back then, of course. And her last name wasn’t Culver.

They were college friends. That’s all the info I was ever able to get out of Dad. That’s how we ended up at Whisper Cove that summer, my mother and me. When I was five years old.

“He’s fucking hot,” Lex says. And it takes me a minute to bring my mind back around to what he’s talking about.

Who he’s talking about.

Cole Culver.

And Lex is undeniably right about that, but there’s something about Cole that puts me on edge. So I change the subject.

“What about the way you and Jude were flirting?”

Lex blushes. “He’s cute, right?”

“He is,” I say. “For sure.” It’s my turn to nudge him. “You’re a fast mover.”

“No,” he says. “I’m not. But I’ve only got four weeks.” He shrugs. “So no time to waste.” Lex sighs, and his grin slips a little. “I just don’t want to drag my feet. If there’s something there, I wanna find out. You know? Before it’s too late.” His face has clouded over, and I know that cloud must have a name. But he doesn’t tell me who it is that made him sigh like that, so I guess I was wrong about us being besties. We aren’t quite there yet.

Lex digs around in his bag and comes up with a cigarette. He offers it to me, but I shake my head, so he shrugs and lights it up for himself.

“You ever wish that you could erase certain memories?” he asks me. “Like how you can turn off a light switch. Or like . . . fuck . . . I don’t know.” He sucks in smoke and holds it for a minute before he breathes it out again. “The way you can pull a weed up out of a garden or something.”

It’s a weird thought to me. Wanting to forget. I’ve spent my whole life trying so desperately to remember. “What memories would you erase?” I ask him. “If you could.”

Lex laughs, but it’s not that same playful giggle from the beach. This laugh has a hint of bitterness to it. Like coffee grounds left at the bottom of a cup.