Page 161 of Forget Me Not

Nova. I need to get to Nova.

“Cap?” Trout asks, eyes wide.

Trout almost lost the only thing that matters to him in the world.

I almost did too. He can fall asleep looking at a picture every night all he wants. I want the real thing.

“I’m going home,” I repeat, before turning and walking out of the mess hall and up to my bunk to pack.

When I pluck Nova’s picture off the wall above my bed, I stare at it for a moment. In three hours, I’m free to go find her.

And I will find her.

Whether in an island village or New York City, I’ll always find her.

Because she’s mine.

The cemetery where Jack is buried is an eerie place.

I feel like I’m being watched by any number of the statues surrounding long forgotten graves as I step through to find the one I want.

I have no idea where I’m going. I don’t even know why I’m here. All I know is I have to do this before I can go home to Nova.

Before I ask her to be mine, I have to get something off my chest.

A large statue of an angel sits in the center, her judgmental eyes following me as though I’m a lowly scoundrel and she is the watcher, protecting this place. As if she knows what my life has been and doesn’t approve.

Carry was pissed when we docked in Dutch Harbor, and I told him I’d be leaving. He cursed me up and down the dock, but I can’t really blame him. Nor do I give a fuck.

Not a single thing he said could have made me turn back around and get back on that fucking boat. Not after that fucking hell of a wake-up call.

I can run to the farthest reaches of the earth. My home will still be on that dingy little island, surrounded by those people that took me in and made me one of their own. My heart has rested in Port Nova since I left. I’m here to get it back.

I spot Jack’s last name—the only reason I know it’s him is because I stopped and checked in at the front office before making the trek back here.

I almost turn to leave, but I flew all day yesterday and I’m not about to give up now.

Is it stupid to talk to a grave? Someone I don’t even know?

Hey, you don’t know me, but I just came to tell you I plan to hijack your wife from you. Hope that’s cool.

“What that fuck am I doing?” I grit under my breath, but I look around, scanning the grounds and it’s just me here.

The first snow has fallen. Not enough to matter, but enough to cover the base of the tombstone up. So, I drop to my haunches and start brushing away the powder, clenching my teeth as I do.

“I don’t like you,” I murmur, feeling like a goddamned child the moment it’s out of my mouth. “Jesus Christ,” I sigh, running a hand over my face.

Jack doesn’t respond, of course.

Am I losing my fucking mind? Out here talking to graves like they can give me any answers?

“You know what?” I snap, determined to get this out. “Fuck it. You were a shit husband. There. I said it. I don’t care what your excuses are. I don’t care if Nova forgives you. I don’t. You hurt the person I care about most in this world and for that, I want to say fuck you.”

It feels good to say what I’ve wanted to since I learned all that was Jack Marshall. Golden boy. Shit husband. Undeserving martyr.

I sit back on my haunches, looking at the last name etched plainly in the gray marble.

“I’m in love with your wife.”

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