“Well, yeah,” Willa says as she positions a fender between the boat and the dock. “But the next time you’ll do it better, so who cares?”

Their original plan had been to spend a single night in Brunswick and keep moving, but as they carry the wet cushions out into the sun, it’s clear they’re going to need more time. The boat is disgusting, they haven’t bathed in three days, and they’re in desperate need of some time on dry land. Taylor is tempted to suggest they blow off the work and do something fun first, but their habits are ingrained now. They clean the boat, empty the toilet, put the sails back on, and make a shopping list. When Taylor finally gets to take a shower, it’s well earned and quite possibly the best shower of her life.

“I think I want to cut my hair,” she says as they ride their bikes toward downtown Brunswick. Over the past two months it has gotten noticeably longer, hanging almost to the small of her back. When Finley’s hair fell out during chemotherapy, she consoled herself by braiding, curling, and styling Taylor’s hair. Taylor didn’t mind—she would have done anything to make her best friend happy—but now Finley is gone and even washing this much hair has become a pain.

“Like how short?” Willa asks.

“Super short. Chopped off.”

“Are you sure? That’s a pretty drastic change.”

“I feel like my life has been a series of drastic changes lately,” Taylor says. “And it’s bugging the crap out me.”

Willa laughs. “Do you want me to come with you for moral support?”

“You can go do the boring grocery shopping while I have someone massage my scalp and make me look amazing.”

Willa pushes up the tip of her nose with her middle finger, then pedals off in the direction of the Winn-Dixie, while Taylor pauses to look up hair salons on her phone. The closest place is less than a quarter mile away, so she rides up, parks her bike, and steps inside.

On her way back to the marina, Taylor can’t stop looking at herself in store windows, can’t stop running her fingers through her hair. It no longer flutters out behind her, and the air touches the back of her neck in a way it never has before. But Taylor didn’t just get a haircut; she had her hair color lightened to a pale blond, which makes her look like a completely different person—maybe the person she wants to be.

She’s almost at the marina when her phone vibrates with a text. Hey, it’s Wyatt. I’m on a layover in Atlanta on my way to Brunswick. I’ll be there in a couple of hours and I want to surprise Willa. Can you help me?