Getaway Girl (Girl 1)
I remember us locking eyes through the crowd the night she went dancing with Lydia, looking so gorgeous and alive. The night she finally became my girlfriend. I can see her mouthing the words Oh God, Oh God when she spots me at the bar, even though I didn’t notice at the time. She loved me at that moment and I didn’t soak it in all the way. I squandered it. Three words—words I’ve had inside me as long as Addison kept the same ones for me—and all of this could have been avoided.
All the hurt I put her through never would have happened, goddammit.
“Elijah.”
I hang up without responding to Chris, because I can’t. All I can do is floor the gas pedal and roar my anguish into the empty truck.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Addison
A Black Cloud Tonight Over Charleston.
—Southern Insider News
It’s hard to remember when it all goes to shit.
I make it to the island in record time, my arms straining from the effort of paddling without a breather. Making ornaments did not prepare me for this kind of exertion. I climb out of the kayak and drag it to shore just as the sky opens overhead. At first, the rain falls in giant, gloppy drops, so heavy it hits the river like small stones. There’s a nervous turn in my stomach. Other stall owners in the market are always talking about the unpredictable nature of southern storms. How it can be sunny one minute and thundering the next. But I always assumed they were exaggerating since they embellish just about everything else.
Turns out, they haven’t been embellishing about storms.
I barely have Mrs. Claus out of my backpack when the rain turns sharp. It stings the skin of my arms, neck, face. Little stingers that try to distract me from my task. But I don’t let them. No, the distraction comes in the form of the rising tide. I’m standing on the edge of the island among the reeds, my rain boots sunk a few inches into the mud…and within a minute, the water goes from my ankles to halfway up my boots. I look around the island and realize it’s slowly being swallowed from all sides.
“That’s not good,” I whisper.
Above my head, lightning streaks across the sky in a jagged line, as if to say, no shit.
While uncapping the makeshift urn, I look out across the river. Okay. It’s not treacherous. A little choppier than usual, but no waves or anything that could capsize me on the way back. I can power through before the storm gets worse. I’m not usually outside during a thunderstorm, so of course it seems worse up close. I’m out of my element, but I have some practice under my belt and I know the direction to take back to the launch site. It’s all good.
Focus on why you came here.
With a deep breath, I shove Mrs. Claus’s head into the backpack and hug the bottom half of the porcelain figure to my chest. “It’s time to say goodbye, Grandma. I’m sending you off in pretty dramatic fashion, right? I hope you approve.” Rain is getting in my eyes, so I close them. “Mom let this place beat her. I didn’t. It hurt me. H-he hurt me. But I put things back where they belonged and now I’m walking away knowing I did the right thing. When they think of our side of the family, it will be with respect. Grudging, but so what, right? So what. We’re not less than. We’re more than they expected. I hope. I hope.”
The water has risen to the top of my boots now, so I take two giant steps back, water splashing up and drenching my jeans, along with the rain.
“I want to be selfish and keep you with me, but you would want to be free, wouldn’t you? Thank you for loving me. Thank you for everything. I’ll think of you all the time.” I tip over the urn and watch the building storm carry away my grandmother, my breath catching in my throat at the swirl of gray in the wind. “Goodbye. I love you.”
There’s a part of me that just wants to sit down and let the storm wail on me. I’m caught in the grip of loneliness and wouldn’t the howling wind be the perfect distraction? But I can’t deny the water in front of me is growing rougher with each passing second. It’s manageable now, but if I don’t get my ass to the other side of this river in fifteen minutes, I’m not sure what it’ll look like. And the island is shrinking more and more the longer I wait, so staying and hoping for the weather to pass isn’t an option. My only option is to get back in the kayak and move.