by Sara Ella
She seemed to relax at those words. They swayed at first, nothing more than a back-and-forth rock. Merrick didn’t mind. As long as she was near, they could have simply stood still.
When they locked eyes, everything in him wanted to close the last bit of distance between them.
But her expression wilted and he held back. Or maybe she held back? “You’re safe,” he told her. “You’re safe with me.”
“Nothing is safe. No one. Everyone leaves eventually.”
“I’m still here.”
“For now.”
“What are you so afraid of?”
Her body stiffened and they stopped swaying. “You’d never understand.”
“Try me.” Merrick attempted to move her into rhythm with the music again.
Her resistance was painful.
“I’m here,” he said. “I’ve been here. I’m going to be here. You can’t get rid of me.”
She released him and took a step back.
He tried not to let his frustration show. “Why do you do that? Why do you push me away anytime we start to get close?” The words spilled out before he could swallow them back.
Her chest heaved and her eyes narrowed, transforming her once again into the withdrawn and closed-off girl he’d first met. “You know all about pushing people away, don’t you, Merrick? Your dad. Your sister.”
“Don’t bring Amaya into this. You don’t even know her.”
“I know enough. The bits and pieces you’ve told me. She may have stopped cutting, but she hardly eats, right? She inflicts pain on herself so she doesn’t have to admit how much it hurts that your mother abandoned you both.” Her breaths were short, quick, hot.
Merrick could hardly breathe.
“You walk around with your foolish ideals and dreams of your mom whisking you away to a better life. Get a clue, Merrick. There is no such thing as better. Your mom’s not coming back and Amaya’s going to slip away before you finally realize she’s not okay.”
Several of the couples near them had stopped to stare. The credits rolled in the background. They had become the main source of entertainment.
A curse left Merrick’s lips. Old habits died hard.
The magic between them had broken.
Coral took her cue and exited stage right.
Was he expected to handle her constant roller coaster? One minute she was up, the next she was diving off a cliff.
“Don’t just stand there, son.”
At the word son, Merrick froze.
But his father was not the one calling him by the term he’d come to despise. It was the old man. The cornball who’d kissed his wife on the cheek.
“Go after her,” he said.
His wife nodded. “You won’t regret it.” The elderly woman bent down. When she straightened she handed Merrick their flat paper lantern and a lighter. “We’ve had a lifetime of wishes. I think you need this more than we do.”
She turned to her husband and kissed his chin. They gazed at each other with so much love, with so much understanding, Merrick wondered if there had ever been a chance for his parents.
Probably not.
But their story didn’t have to be his. He thanked the couple, grabbed the picnic basket, blanket, and notebook Coral had left, and sprinted up the beach after her.
He would follow her. Again.
He would always follow her.
To the bottom of the sea and back.
Thirty-Four
Coral
Where were tears when she needed them?
Coral wanted to cry so hard and so loud and so ugly that her father and Jordan would hear it from a million miles away.
She wanted her face to get red and splotchy. She wanted to sob until she fell asleep and then awakened again to cry some more.
She wanted her tears to fill the ocean. Because then she could walk away and finally, finally start somewhere new. Coral wanted to let it go. All the pain, all the hurt, all the spiraling thoughts and reliving of nightmares. She couldn’t do this. These emotions, this Disease, was killing her. Day by day. Week by week.
Merrick only made it worse.
Every kind word he said, every moment he proved he was nothing like her sister’s prince, only tortured Coral more. Now she couldn’t stand to lose him. Now he was a part of her after. It was only a matter of time until he became nothing but before.
Fire lit the sky as it had the night of Red Tide. She didn’t bother going inside the cottage when she got home. Her grandmother would be asleep, and Coral wasn’t in the mood to answer her questions with fake responses like “It was fine,” and “Yes, I had a lovely time with the boy I’m probably falling in love with but push away every time he gets close because I know he’ll eventually leave and this can’t last and . . .”
Coral kicked a potted plant over and stormed around the back of the house to the ladder that rose to the roof. She climbed the rungs, heart prepared to fall from her chest and smash on the concrete below. When she reached the top she stepped lightly, finding her balance, until she worked her way to the spot toward the middle that was flat enough she could sit comfortably.
The cottage rested on the crest of a sloping hill covered in ice plants that produced little purple flowers. A private beach in the shape of a crescent waited below. During the day the water sparkled so blue she could imagine herself in a more tropical setting. Now it bled ink. Coral wanted to dip her pen there, to write everything she felt so she could get it out and away.
But her notebook waited on the beach. With Merrick. With her heart. Without a way to escape her own whirring thoughts, she sat naked, helpless, exposed. If she couldn’t write them, they stirred inside her, unable to flee.
So she watched the fireworks and let her heartache drown her. They were almost soundless from this distance. Glittering and lovely and unreal.
“Like Merrick,” she said aloud, tasting the words she needed to believe if she was ever going to survive. “He isn’t real.”
“Pretty sure I am, actually.”
Coral whipped her head toward his voice. Her heart leapt but she covered it with a look of disdain. “Did you follow me here?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Did you want me to follow you?”
Yes. “No.”
“I don’t believe you.” His deadpan voice was more serious than it had ever been. “In fact, I’m pretty sure you left this on purpose precisely so I would follow you.”
He climbed a little higher and produced her notebook.
“You walked all the way here to bring me that?”
“Yes and no.” He set the notebook on the roof and disappeared for a moment. When he returned, he carried the picnic blanket and . . . Was that . . . ?
“I felt like our do-over needed a do-over.” He climbed onto the roof beside her, paper lantern in hand and blanket draped over his arm. When he joined her, Merrick laid the blanket across her legs, then opened the lantern. Next he pulled a lighter from his pocket.
“Where did you get that?”
“Questions, questions. Can’t you ever be in the moment?”
Could she?
Merrick lit the lantern in silence. “Make a wish. Anything you want. Then we’ll send it out to sea.”
She faced the water. She used to wish upon sea stars. Her grandmother would take her to find them. When they found one, Coral would close her eyes and hope for some silly thing. But this felt real, as if she had a single chance at a wish that might actually come true. She didn’t want to waste it.
“Whatever your past holds,” Merrick said, “we’ll get through it. Together.”
Coral closed her eyes. She pictured Merrick by her side. With that image so clear in her mind, others of the crown princess and Red Tide receded.
“Got one?”
She hugged her knees and faced him, searching his eyes. Nodded. Could he see through her now? Could he know what she wanted in this moment, in the here and now?
Merrick lit the lantern, only briefly takin
g his eyes from Coral’s. He held on to it for a moment. The warm light illuminated his skin, washing his face in an orange glow. As he released it, his gaze stayed fixed on hers. Though Coral’s habit was to look away, she willed herself to stay with him. She shut the door on the past and let the future stay right where it was.
The lantern took height, soaring down and away to the water. Coral freed a breath and made her wish again.
Merrick inhaled. Their faces hovered inches apart. He searched her eyes now. She gave the slightest nod. Would he notice?
But he saw.
Merrick closed the distance between them. First his thumb found her jaw. He traced the line of it, his gaze trailing down and then back up.
Coral kept her hands laced, arms wrapped around her knees for fear she might try to escape if she let them free.
Slowly, gently, purposefully, with so much care Coral wondered if he thought she might break, Merrick pressed his lips to hers.
Warmth filled every inch of her. Her chest swelled. Fear closed in, try as she might to keep it at bay. Her lower lip quivered against his and her throat grew tight.
He pulled back an inch. “What is it? Did I hurt you?”
No, she wanted to say. But you will.
Coral wanted to stay there with him as he kissed her again, then drew her in to rest her head in the soft space between his chest and shoulder. They watched the lantern drift over the water until it disappeared. The sight made her think of summer. Of the bright days and warm nights that ended too soon.
She watched it vanish before she was ready to let it go.
Her sister had been right about one thing.
“Give your heart to one and you can never go back.”
Why hadn’t she listened? Though she no longer held the same desire to drown a prince, she still wanted to find him, if only to ask him why.
Why didn’t you love her?
Why wasn’t she enough?
Soon Coral would ask those same questions of Merrick. He would move on and she would end up like her oldest sister. Then Red Tide would come for her too.
Merrick never loved me.
He never will.
Thirty-Five
Brooke
After
Hope’s memorial takes place the last day of July. I pile into the van with the other girls. Jake and Mary have shotgun. I sit in the back, stare out the window, and ask why.
Will nothing ever change?
I’ve gotten into the habit of taking the sea glass bottle and my journal with me wherever I go now. The pages are packed. I’ll need to start a new one soon. I open the cover and scan the now-full page of quotes Hope wrote.
“Sometimes . . . the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.”
—A. A. Milne
We drive over a bump as I press the words to my chest. The smallest thing did take up the most room. She still does.
A sharp turn onto the highway has me reaching for the overhead handle. I check my bag. The bottle remains intact, wrapped and padded inside my new UC Berkeley sweatshirt. I have one month until I leave Fathoms Ranch behind and trade it for a dorm room. Jake helped me fast-track my application to Berkeley (helps when your therapist knows the dean of admissions) and even found some scholarship money that hadn’t been claimed. That, plus the work-study program with the university’s paper, put me halfway there.
Mee-Maw’s retirement fund covered the rest.
I finally found the courage to call her again the day I learned about Hope. This time she answered. I expected Mee-Maw to be mad. Waited with bated breath for her to remind me of how horrible I’d been. Her words became the salve I needed to soothe my scarred soul.
“Hush now. We’ll get through this. Together.”
I hold on to those words as I stare through the glass, only the faintest outline of my flat expression visible in the window. With as much hurt as I’ve experienced at the hands of my family, Mee-Maw never abandoned me.
Maybe humanity isn’t completely lost after all.
Thirty-Six
Merrick
The remainder of July was filled with quiet moments beneath the pier and stolen kisses in the attic.
Merrick and Coral had found their rhythm.
So why did he feel as if he was trying to convince her to stay?
It wasn’t that she pushed him away. She kissed him back and didn’t withdraw when he held her hand. He kept waiting for the right time to take her by the house, introduce her to Amaya and Grim and Nikki. But that moment never came. Anytime he’d bring it up, she’d avoid or redirect, changing the subject to his mom.
Maybe she didn’t want to be found. What if Coral and Grim had been right all along?
The idea broke something inside as Merrick turned off the computer in the office and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. Amaya was there, not eating. Again.
Merrick checked the clock on the stove. Late afternoon. “Did you just get up?”
“Yeah. So?”
She hardly spoke lately. Was she tired? Depressed? What about PMS? She was eleven now, and Merrick didn’t have a clue what to do. If she sent him to the store for tampons, he might lose it.
Maya needed Mom.
What now? He couldn’t call his dad. The beach house was quiet. Grim was gone, off with Nikki on another adventure. Maybe Merrick could ask Nikki to talk to his sister when she came back. She’d know about that stuff, right?
Merrick studied Maya’s eyes. Dark circles made her look years past her age. September would be here before they knew it, and she’d need to start her online courses again soon. How was Merrick supposed to get her to do her homework if he couldn’t even get her out of bed?
“There’s leftover pizza in the fridge.” He grabbed a cold slice from a storage bag and tore off one corner.
“Not hungry.” Maya grabbed a water bottle and moved to the stairs.
“It’s a nice day. Why don’t you sit on the deck and get a little sun?”
“No, thanks.”
“What about—”
She rounded on him. “Which is it, big brother? Do you want me to go out or stay in? Because I’m pretty sure you’ve made your point that I’m safer if I stay inside so Dad can’t find me, isn’t that right?”
Whoa. “I didn’t mean—you know I’m trying to find Mom, right? For you? This has all been for you.”
“Right. This is all for me.” She waved her arms in an arc. “It has nothing to do with the fact you hate Dad and love that it’s killing him not to know where I am. Where you are.”
Merrick’s fists clenched at his sides, but he kept his cool. Maya was tired. Frustrated. She was allowed to lash out. He needed to let her vent.
“Did you ever ask me what I wanted? Did you ever think maybe I didn’t want to come here and play board games and wear disguises while you go off with your girlfriend doing who knows what?”
She was emotional. She didn’t realize what she was saying. “Myyy-uh.” Merrick drew out her name on purpose. He couldn’t say the wrong thing and make matters worse. “Dad was going to send you away. Remember? You didn’t want to go. You said you loved hanging out with Grim and Aunt Ashley and Nikki. I’m doing everything I can so you can have a better life. So you can be free.”
She laughed.
The lifeless sound sent a chill through Merrick’s bones.
“You call this freedom?” She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe I don’t know what I want, but it isn’t this, Mer. It isn’t this.” She turned, her fiery hair whipping around her like a whirling flame. Every stomp up the stairs drove the nail in Merrick’s resolve deeper.
No more messing around. He’d let himself get distracted.
He’d find his mom before summer ended.
Even if it meant his summer ended all too soon.
Thirty-Seven
Coral
Coral’s sneezes always came in threes. After the third “ah-choo,” she sniffed, blinked, and rubbed the dust from her itchy eyes.
; Coral had been in the attic for hours, scrutinizing old photos her grandmother kept in a box. Her notebook lay open on the floor beside her. She jotted down notes with one hand and flipped through the album with the other. She would find Merrick’s mom. He couldn’t possibly leave her then.
Fear festered. Coral awaited an impending disaster. Any day Merrick would wake up and realize he didn’t care. That she was nothing to him.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and flipped another page.
The steps below creaked and Coral smoothed her hair. She adjusted her posture and blinked away the fatigue.
Merrick appeared at the top of the steps and her heart skipped one, two, ten beats. He had a way of making her forget the simplest tasks. Like how to swallow or think or string words together into coherent sentences.
Coral wished he would stop.
“Hey,” he said as he made his way through the mess.
The scattered stacks of boxes and crates made it smell like a retirement home and old nails. When Merrick sat beside her, he leaned in and kissed her cheek.
Coral melted into the kiss. They never had enough time. Why couldn’t this last longer?
“Find anything good?” His halfhearted words stung.
Coral placed a hand on his knee and told her anxiety to control itself for once. He wasn’t sleeping enough. His distance had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the fact his mom remained nonexistent, forever out of reach.
They never found anything. Not since the newspaper clipping weeks ago.
She wanted to lift his spirits. To give him back the childlike hope he’d carried when they’d first met.
“Look in that box.” She gestured toward an open one a few feet to her left. “I found it this morning stashed in the rafters.”
“New stuff?” His eyebrows perked but his shoulders remained heavy.
“More of the same. Albums, newspapers, some yearbooks. It’s a treasure hunt up here. I can’t believe my grandmother collected all this stuff from people’s estate sales over the years.”