Page 39 of Diving In

Turning on my heels, I headed toward the front door. My emotions were leaving a heavy trail of destruction, and I needed fresh air.

Nothing could beat that brief moment right after the rain stopped. It’d always been my favorite, especially on the island. Everything was calm, the smell of rain still lingering in the air and the birds slowly resuming their chirping.

Even after a substantial storm, there was no sense of calm in New York City. The people were too busy, the cars were too loud, and the city was too big. That was why I wanted to enjoy this moment, because it might be my last time to do so on this island. I threw on a black rain jacket I found in the hall closet and pulled the front door shut behind me, making my way toward town.

My brain was running rampant with so much information that needed managing, but I just couldn’t seem to find the energy to handle it right now. I’d said three days was all I could do on this island, yet here I was… Two days in, only one letter discovered, a million open wounds that needed tended to, and one man that I’d never intended on running into.

Part of me wanted to pretend that I’d never found that first letter, and the other part of me felt as though I had some of my own unfinished business that needed to be handled at this point. Before coming here, I had no attachments to this place, but being back here has proven to be more influential than I expected, and I had to admit that it wasn’t all bad.

Jack knew exactly what he was doing when he wrote those letters. He knew me well enough to know that I couldn’t handle not knowing all the facts and using them to my benefit, to allow me to be in control.

Control had always been the thief of all my joy.

The dewy smell of rain rushed through my nose and the cold breeze instantly sent shivers through my bones. It was still damp outside, everything glistening from the puddles lying around. And just as I had remembered it, everything was peaceful. No cars, no sirens, and absolutely no one else on the streets.

I decided to travel an old road I knew well, searching for comfort and something familiar in a time of so many unknowns. Fourth of July was something entirely different on the island, and as I trekked down the sidewalk, I couldn’t help but notice the buzzing that floated through the air. I spotted one man unloading what appeared to be boxes full of fireworks, another woman was hanging a bunch of tiny American Flags, and children’s laughter filled the spaces in between. I couldn’t help but admire how this sleepy beach town was coming alive.

A few minutes later, after turning down a familiar gravel road, I arrived at the cottage that held so many memories for me.

Home.

Or at least the home that I knew for the nine years that I lived on this island.

Tucked perfectly in a sea of palm trees situated only steps from the water sat the beach cottage that I had fallen so deeply in love with growing up. You’d almost miss it if you weren’t looking for it, which had always been one of my favorite things about it. Peering out from behind the leaves were the four pastel blue walls I’d always loved. The type of blue that so effortlessly complemented the deep green of the palm trees and matched the natural hues of the ocean.

Situated on the front porch, almost as if us Windsor’s had never left, was the wooden porch swing that Jack had built after Fletcher and I hassled him for months. Decorated with blue and green pillows, the swing somehow still looked new, even though it had been hanging there for two decades.

The two steps leading up to the front door were worn, and I could still envision Fletcher jumping both steps and landing on the porch in one swift move. I, on the other hand, never could make it look as flawless as him.

But as I stood there, it wasn’t the swing or the steps that sent my heart plummeting… It was the pink front door. It reminded me of Mom, reminded me of all the good times we had in this house as a family, and reminded me of a time that was far simpler than now.

One thing I knew for certain even despite the downfall of their relationship was that Jack and Mom always did love each other. Especially Jack. He thought Mom moved mountains. They were so in love, not only with one another but with the life they had created for us—withus.

At least until the unbearable happened and we weren’tusanymore.

Before I could stop myself, I knocked on the perfectly painted pink door without a second thought. I didn’t know what I was going to say, or even if anyone lived here, but something was pulling me to just try. After one single moment of confidence though, I started panicking. I was routing my escape plan, estimating how much time it would take me to turn around and run until I was out of sight.

Definitely too long, I decided.

A couple minutes passed before I admitted to myself that no one was home. As I turned around, I saw a golf cart parked in the gravel driveway directly in front of the garage, which was currently lifted wide open.

Assuming that was why they didn’t answer the door, I meandered toward the garage, thinking I’d stumble upon someone in there. It was like my body knew this place and imagined that it still belonged to me, even though I hadn’t stepped foot on this property in years.

I walked into the garage but didn’t see anyone. Part of me was relieved while the other part of me felt a rush of disappointment. The door to the backyard was slightly ajar, and as I stepped closer, I heard a voice.

A familiar voice.

Cal.

My stomach plunged and my mind instantly started racing with questions as to why Cal would be here, who he was talking to, and what I would say if he caught me standing here.

“Beau, I know you usually stay at the boathouse, but you’ve got to stay away from Jack’s and lay low for the next couple days. I packed up everything that you had there. It’s all in the golf cart. You can stay at my place, but you have to promise me you’ll stay out of sight, at least until Georgia leaves,” Cal threatened.

“I’ll lay low, I promise. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in a shitty situation back at Jack’s. I came here because I didn’t think she would, but I’ll grab my stuff and head to your apartment,” a voice rebounded, completely defeated.

I was doing my best to go unnoticed, but I also desperately needed to see who Cal was talking to. I peered around the corner ever so slightly, and when I laid eyes on him, my confusion only escalated. It was the boy from breakfast yesterday. The boy I couldn’t stop looking at. The boy who was, once again, staring right at me.

I blew my cover, but I didn’t even care. We made eye contact, both looking equally confused and uncertain about what to do next. He continued to stare at me, never breaking his gaze, almost like he’d known me forever but was just meeting me for the first time.

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