Page 49 of Diving In

I watched as he casually pulled on his jeans and replaced his worn-out T-shirt. He glanced up at me with nothing but indifference and said, “Georgia, I’ve been saying it since that day on the pier and every day since… I’ve got you, always have and always will. But right now, this is all really fucking with my head, and I need a minute.”

“You keep saying that. But why? And what day on the pier?” I bit back. “Why do those words feel so familiar to me?” I asked, annoyed that I couldn’t figure it out myself.

His feet stopped dead in their tracks. “You don’t fucking remember, do you?”

“Remember what?”

“That day on the pier, all those summers ago,” he said. “You were wearing a white skirt and red top. I remember thinking how pretty you looked and how if you weren’t Fletcher’s sister, I would’ve already tried to make you mine. But then I heard Blair bullying you, and I lost it. No one deserves to be treated like that, especially not you. As I stormed past you, I whispered ‘I’ve got you’ before having a few choice words for Blair. I promised myself from that day forward that I’d never let anyone hurt you like she did. And for as long as I could, I kept my promise, until you left.”

As I processed his words, I was brought back in time to one particular moment that now appeared so clearly in my head, almost as if it were yesterday.

“Wait.” My head fell into my palms, but when I looked up, he was already out of sight. “That was you?” The words coming out as more of a whisper.

It was a scorcher that day and everyone who was anyone had migrated to the pier, me included. Between the arcade, candy shop, and boardwalk, most if not all our summer days ended there. The sun was setting, the pinks and oranges swirling together in the perfect blend. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the pier came to life—flashing lights, music, and a lively crowd of kids.

As I went back to that day, I could almost feel the warm breeze brushing against my legs as I walked up to Blair and her friends. The sound of ocean waves played as background music as the anticipation of being accepted by them made me giddy with excitement. I’d expected my outfit, the one that Fletcher had bought me, to level me up to their standards, giving me the opportunity to at least hang out with them.

I was wrong.

I’d approached Blair and her friends as they lined the railing that overlooked the water, all snickering with one another. Before I had the chance to speak, Blair Warner pointed at me as she smirked and raised her voice loud enough so everyone within earshot could hear her say, “Look at Georgia. She looks like a cow on her period.”

Those words left her mouth and pierced me like knives. I stiffened, completely paralyzed by her comment, and then by the overwhelming giggles that followed. Mortified, I tried to hold back my tears but failed. I lowered my head in an attempt to hide my embarrassment, and then out of nowhere, a stern voice radiated behind me. Strong and protective.

“I’ve got you,” the boy’s voice whispered, brushing past me as he made his way to Blair. The boy turned, his eyes flashing to mine briefly before returning his attention to Blair. Everything had been fuzzy, almost like my vision was blurred from the humiliation, so I’d never made out who he was. But now, looking back, his face was clear as day.

And those eyes… How did I forget those eyes?

It was him. It wasCal.

It had always been Cal. He’d been watching out for me all this time, protecting me in his own way, and while I didn’t realize it all those years ago, or even when I arrived back on the island two days ago, I saw it now. I sawhim.

I snapped back to reality, not even realizing I’d been getting dressed. Still reassessing these memories, I was dressed and sprinting out of the house in no time, dashing down the gravel driveway toward his golf cart.

“Cal!” I shouted, watching as the taillights faded before completely disappearing.

Losing sight of the golf cart, I slowed my pace and kicked myself for not running out of the house just a few seconds sooner. Now, all I could see were a thousand tiny little stars lighting up the night sky while the fireflies danced through the air.

Trying my best to collect my thoughts without combusting from the sheer volume of emotions whirling around inside me, I rotated back toward the house.

I didn’t want to go back to Jack’s, so instead I made my way through the perfectly painted pink door of my childhood home, deciding I would stay here tonight instead. As I wandered back into my childhood bedroom, the air felt different than before, like it was missing something—someone.

I sat on my bed and reached underneath it like it was second nature, instantly feeling the velvet cover of my journal. As I caressed the soft material, I reminisced on all the times I’d run through my door, slammed it shut, and reached for this journal, assuming that getting my feelings out on paper would make me feel better. And it did, italwaysdid.

I spent the rest of the night reading my old journal entries, revisiting the different years of my life via my writing. When I thumbed back through the summers, it seemed like I had known more was going on with Fletcher than I’d wanted to admit.

Somewhere between 2007 and 2008, I allowed myself to fall asleep.

I woke up some time later to the curtains open and the sun staring at me through the window. I pulled myself out of bed and walked into the bathroom, splashing some water on my face and trying to piece together the last two days of my life.

I needed to piece together the last twodecadesof my life, but I’d have to take what I could get for now.

Staring into the mirror, it was like looking back at a younger version of myself—sad and totally confused. I grabbed the handle to Fletcher’s room before I could talk myself out of it, remembering the days when I needed some brotherly advice and knew Fletcher’s door was always open.

“Fletch.” His name left my lips, but it was inaudible to anyone but me, and I reached out, half expecting to feel him grab my arm.

“This really fucking sucks,” I said, sadness rising to my throat. “But I know if you were here right now, you would be telling me to get up off my ass and go live my life. You always did know how to give a girl a pep talk. The thing is, I thought I had my entire life planned out—shocking, Iknow. But really, I had everything lined up just how I’d expected it to go. Now with Jack’s passing and all but demanding I return to Sullivan’s Island, I’ve had to reevaluate all of it. Every last fucking decision. Things I never expected to question, I’m questioning. Decisions I never second-guessed before are constantly swimming in my brain as what-ifs.

“And the worst part of it all? You’re not here to calm me down and make me look at everything with a clear head. So instead, I’m over here drowning.And I want to be so damn mad at you for not telling me about Beau. I want to scream at you for taking away my chance to be an aunt, but I can’t even do that because you’re not fucking here. So instead, I have to figure my own shit out so that I can be there for myself and for Beau, in whatever capacity he’ll let me.”

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