Page 4 of Diving In

He loved me unconditionally, and even though he always protected me, he still managed to continuously push me out of my comfort zone, always encouraging me to grow, little by little. With his death came the end of my interest to do anything remotely adventurous or spontaneous.

If I couldn’t control it, I couldn’t do it.

Jack’s death and this call requiring my return to Sullivan’s Island had thoughts of Fletcher on loop in my mind. I knew that if our roles were reversed, Fletch wouldn’t have hesitated for a second. He would’ve gone straight to the island and figured out what needed to be done.

It was that knowledge that led to me saying yes in the first place, but it was also what had me feeling queasy about how this all might play out.

CHAPTER 3

“G, you okay? Last time you baked on a random weekday was the week after we decided to pick up and move to New York City together. You spiraled, thinking that you wouldn’t be able to find a job and that you weren’t going to be able to afford it. You had yourself convinced you’d have to move back to Kansas,” Ivy joked as she let herself into my apartment.

Ivy Vandenburg was my best friend and arguably the most beautiful woman I had ever met. She was never not sporting a spray tan, making her skin the most gorgeous shade of almond brown. She had velvet-looking, chocolate-brown hair that fell down her back and shaped her perfectly slender face. She was blessed enough to be lean but still voluptuous in all the right places.

Ivy and I were polar opposites. My skin was a soft pale white that rarely had the same sun-kissed glow as hers. My hair was a similar length but was strawberry blonde. And while the only thing I had that was voluptuous were my lips, which were actually my favorite attribute, the rest of me was just average.

Honestly, if we hadn’t known each other for sixteen years, I might have been jealous of her, but we were essentially sisters at this point.

And she knew that if I was baking, something was up. Baking had always been therapeutic for me, but after my move to New York City, I’d somehow lost my passion. I found myself baking less and working more.

I turned, and with one look in her direction, tears filled my eyes.

“My god, G. What’s wrong?” Her face immediately lost all its color.

“He’s gone…” I said through a clogged throat. At her look of confusion, I clarified, “Jack’s gone.”

I realized then that I hadn’t cried since Mom had given me the news earlier this afternoon. Zero tears until now, and now they wouldn’t stop.

“Georgia. Jesus. I don’t even know what to say.” She grasped for words while simultaneously wrapping me in a hug.

“Don’t say anything. Just sit with me and tell me that everything is going to be okay, despite the fact that it’s absolutely not,” I said as I released a deep breath.

“Itisgoing to be okay, G. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. We’ve been here before. You’ve been here, and you know it will be okay. It just takes time.” She was talking softly but confidently, trying to be the strong one.

“Would you still say it was going to be okay if I told you that I have to get on an airplane in the morning and fly to the last place on earth that I would ever want to go?” I asked.

“You’re going back to Sullivan’s Island?” she shrieked, startling me.

I jerked my head up and nodded, unable to form words. Now that I’d said it aloud, I realized it was actually happening, even though I’d been continuously repeating to myself that it wasn’t, it mustn’t.

“I feel like we’ve been here before—” Ivy began.

“We have! That’s what’s so fucking unfair about it all!” I shouted before she could finish.

It didn’t seem to stop her train of thought as she continued, “It seems like just yesterday I was cradling you in my arms as we cried over the unfair reality of death.” She stepped closer, giving me another tight hug.

Ivy had been with me through everything—and when I said everything, I meant absolutelyeverything.

She was there when Fletch died, holding me for days as I cried nonstop. She rarely said anything, but she never left my side, even when everyone else, including my parents, seemed lost in their own grief. She was the warm body I needed for someone else’s presence in the room. We would lay in silence for hours because she never forced me to talk about my feelings or go out and get fresh air. She simply let me be, knowing exactly what I needed.

She was there when my parents decided they were getting a divorce, even though she and I already knew it was coming. We spent the following weeks trying to come to terms with the fact that we wouldn’t be living down the street from each other anymore but promising each other that we’d both end up in New York City someday. Through it all, Ivy understood. She understood how desperate I was to get off that island given what happened with Fletcher, and she supported my decision even though it meant we wouldn’t get to live near each other anymore.

Our friendship survived elementary school bullies, middle school emo phases, and one cross-country move from South Carolina to Kansas. Ivy had been there no matter what, no questions asked. And for that, she had always been and would always be my person.

I soaked it in as her tight grip promised to not let go until I was ready. We sat there for a while, exchanging very few words, until we finally released each other from the hug. She walked to the island and cracked open a bottle of wine.

Ivy looked at me with the biggest smirk on her face. “How about a glass of wine?” She winked, trying her best to lighten the reality of this shitty situation. “So, when do you leave?” she asked as we made our way from the kitchen to the living room, both of us plopping down on the couch.

I could tell she was doing her best to sound optimistic while still trying to squeeze as many details as possible out of me before I completely shut down.

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