“Hole’s done,” Joel said, clapping the sand from his hands. “I’ll collect some wood.”

“Do you want help?” Zadie asked.

He wouldn’t look at her. “Nah, I’m good,” he said and wandered off down the beach.

Zadie stared after him for a moment, then sat down next to Finn on the blanket. “He’s mad at me.”

“Why?” Finn’s own voice sounded tinny, like she was hearing herself through a bad phone connection.

“Because I think he wants to get back together, and I don’t.”

Finn shifted her weight, but otherwise gave no indication that Zadie had spoken.

“We kissed.”

This got Finn’s attention. “What?”

“Yeah … I really screwed things up.”

Finn followed Zadie’s gaze to Joel, who was now a hundred yards down the shore digging through a pile of driftwood. High above him, the halo of gulls called out to each other and the sea.

Joel stayed in the motel room that night while the girls slept in the tent. Zadie blocked the door with her body so that if Finn had another echo and tried to leave, she would have to crawl over Zadie to do so. Thankfully her sister slept soundly, and so did she.

The next morning Zadie woke to the sound of her name being whispered by a silhouette on the nylon door. She leaned forward and unzipped it, being careful not to disturb her sleeping sister. Joel poked his head inside. “Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah. Sure…” Zadie crawled out of her sleeping bag and followed him down to the waves. He held his bucket hat in one hand and a plastic grocery bag in the other. “I considered leaving without telling you,” he began, staring out at the ocean, unsmiling. “Then I realized that would be an asshole move.”

Zadie was momentarily dumbstruck. “Wait … where’s this coming from? Does this have to do with the other night? Joel, I’m really sorry, but—”

“You don’t think we should date again. I know.” His voice was calm, measured, as if he had practiced this conversation already in his head. “I knew that’s how you felt the second I kissed you.”

Zadie blushed with shame. “Why didn’t you leave then? Why now?”

“Because that’s not why I’m leaving,” he said, defensive. Then, regaining his composure, “At least it’s not the only reason.”

Zadie’s first instinct was to beg him to stay, but then she realized that would be selfish. Joel had loved her once—and maybe still did—but what she had given him in return wasn’t love at all. It was grief in love’s clothing. She had worn the disguise well, well enough that she herself hadn’t realized she’d used Joel to fill a void, one that her mother had left, and it didn’t matter how Joel contorted himself, how many limbs he disjointed, he would never quite fit.