Bowie held Brooklyn in his arms. Every few seconds, he would kiss her bare skin and smile. He had wanted this moment for the longest time, and it had finally happened. They had finally happened. He didn’t want to think about tomorrow. He didn’t want to think about Austin, but he couldn’t deny that he was on his mind. What the hell had his friend—probably former friend now—been thinking? Brooklyn was perfect. She put up with all of Austin’s bullshit and never batted an eyelash about it. Not until Bowie started telling her to stand up for herself. She had dreams, which she had put on hold for Austin. Bowie would never think of holding her back. If she wanted to move to Seattle and follow her dreams of becoming a nurse, he was going to support her.
Brooklyn turned in his arms. She ran her fingers over his freshly shaved skin. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to make love to her again and again, until the sun came up. What he didn’t want to do was think about their future outside of her bedroom. He wasn’t foolish enough to think Austin was going to walk away without a fight.
“Do you regret this?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I could never. I’ve been in love with you for so long.”
Brooklyn ducked her head, hiding her face in his chest. Even without asking, he knew she was thinking about the ramifications of what they’d done. Their friendships were going to change, people would choose sides, and best friends would no longer be. But she was worth it to him.
“B?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t overthink things, okay? Whatever happens, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I haven’t gone anywhere in six years. We’re adults, and we made a decision.”
She nodded against him and then whispered, “He doesn’t love me.”
Bowie moved so he could lift her chin. He wanted to see her, to look deep into her ocean-blue eyes. He saw the tears form and shook his head.
“He doesn’t love me,” she repeated before he could say anything. “If that’s not a clear indication that we’re over, I don’t know what is.”
He opened his mouth to tell her that he loved her, that she meant the world to him, but her phone started ringing, and then his cell phone started as well. They both scrambled to answer. All he had to do was roll over, but she had to leave the room. The scene played out in front of Bowie like he had seen many times in the movies. Brooklyn pulled the sheet from the bed and wrapped herself in it, covering her naked body. He thought about tugging on the white fabric but didn’t want to embarrass her.
“Hello,” he said gruffly into the receiver.
“Where are you, man?”
He looked around the room. He couldn’t tell Graham where he was or what he was doing. So, he lied. “Home, why? What’s up?”
“There’s been an accident,” Graham said hurriedly and with panic. “He’s so fucking stupid. The fucker took the trawler out, and it fucking capsized. Fucking rogue wave tipped the boat over. My dad, he’s heading out now, and my mom’s freaking out. I can’t get a flight until tomorrow.”
Bowie sat up straight. When he had arrived at Brooklyn’s, it was pouring and had been all day. He remembered seeing the warning lights earlier; there were two, indicating a storm. Bowie swallowed hard. “Who?”
“Austin, man. Fucking Austin, and he’s gone!” Graham screamed.
“What do you mean?” Bowie had a hard time forming the words he forced out of his mouth. His throat was tightening up, and his chest started to heave. “What do you mean, Graham?” He looked up just as Brooklyn appeared in the doorway; she was white as a ghost. He pulled the phone from his ear and pressed it to his chest to muffle Graham’s yelling.
“B?”
She inhaled deeply and choked on a sob. “That was Carly. Austin’s boat . . . the storm . . . they can’t find him.” She collapsed onto the floor just as Bowie threw his phone down. He couldn’t catch her in time, but he could hold her, and that’s what he did until both of them were strong enough to make it down to the port to wait for news.
“You know, even in death, Austin kept us apart,” he said, breaking the silence between them. He picked up a shell and tossed it toward the water. “Why did it take you fifteen years to come back?”
She shook her head. “I never found a reason to, I guess.”
“Until now?”
“Carly called and asked me to come back. It was the first time she had. I really hadn’t seen her after Brystol was born; I always had some excuse or some job that needed to be done. My parents saw her, though, when they would hand Brystol off for visitation.”