Page 6 of Rusty's Command

But even surrounded by Aunty Dee’s eclectic treasures from far-flung places, and Pickle’s constant demands for attention, Sienna couldn’t escape the grief and guilt. Every happy memory of Paige—eating popcorn while watching a movie together, trading stories over coffee and carrot cake, planning futures that would never come—twisted into that final conversation. The one Sienna had replayed a thousand times, searching for the warning signs she’d somehow missed.

“He’s not worth your tears,” she’d told Paige that night, refilling their wine glasses for the third time. “Trust me, you’re better off without that manipulative jerk.”

They’d been sprawled on Paige’s sofa, surrounded by empty Chinese takeout containers, rehashing the same conversation they’d had about countless other guys. But this time, instead of laughing about dodged bullets and future Mr. Rights that hadturn out to be complete assholes, Paige had just stared into her glass, tears sliding silently down her cheeks.

“You don’t understand,” Paige had whispered.

And she hadn’t. God, she really hadn’t understood. How many nights had they spent like this, trading war stories about terrible boyfriends over too much wine? How had she missed that this wasn’t just another breakup story? That when Paige said she couldn’t do this anymore, she hadn’t meant dating. Hadn’t meant work. Hadn’t meant life in their small town where everyone knew everyone’s business.

She’d meant existing.

Yet, Sienna had lifted her glass in a toast and cried, “To being gloriously single!”

The memory of Paige’s hollow smile haunted her now, how it hadn’t reached her eyes, how her hand had trembled as she’d raised her glass.

The rising sun painted the horizon in colors too beautiful for a world without Paige in it.

“Fuck!” The word tore from her throat, echoing across the lava field, and a flock of birds took flight at her outburst, their wings flapping madly against the dawn sky.

How had I been so goddamn blind?

Pickle’s excited bark snapped her from her mental landslide as a flash of brown streaked across their path.

“Pickle, no!” Sienna sprinted after him, dodging chunks of lava rocks along the rough ground. “Get back here, you menace!”

The dog disappeared into one of the countless volcanic lava tubes that honeycombed the island. His barks echoed back to her, bouncing off the tube walls in a way that made it impossible to tell how far in he’d gone.

“I swear to God, if you make me go in there . . .” Pulling out her phone, she clicked on the flashlight. The beam caught the glassy walls of the tunnel, revealing rippled patterns wheremolten rock had once flowed. The tube stretched ahead like a monster’s throat, and unlike many of these tubes that she’d ventured into each time she visited Aunty Dee, this one had a ceiling high enough for her to stand upright.

“Pickle!” Her voice reverberated through the tunnel, mixing with his excited yips. She stepped farther in, sweeping her light across the uneven floor.

The temperature dropped inside the tunnel, a welcome relief from the morning heat. Water dripped somewhere in the darkness, creating hollow plinking sounds that mixed with the dog’s echoing barks.

“When I catch you, you’re going straight to obedience school.” Her words bounced back at her as she picked her way deeper into the tunnel. The light from her phone lit up occasional patches of moss growing in the cracks, and minerals in the rock caught in the beam like a disco ball.

The tube curved slightly left, and as Pickle’s barks echoed from somewhere ahead, the sound bounced off walls in a way that made distance impossible to judge.

“I swear that dog . . .” she muttered, carefully stepping over the loose rocks dotting the uneven ground. “This is what happens when you let a dog eat from crystal bowls and sleep on Egyptian cotton.”

After Uncle Charlie died three years ago, Aunty Dee had transformed her grief into an obsession with the scraggly rescue mutt. Premium dog food, constant grooming, ridiculous diamond-studded collars. For God’s sake.

“You spoiled mutt. Get back here!” Her mind drifted back nearly two decades to that spring break when she and Paige, both aged seventeen, had stayed at Aunty Dee’s place. They’d hollered nonsense into the massive lava tubes near Kilauea, laughing as their voices echoed through the dark. Two whole weeks had passed in a sun-soaked blur—burning their shoulderspink on Hapuna Beach, sneaking stolen beers under the stars, and daring each other to venture deeper into the eerie, glistening tunnels.

“Echo, echo, echo!” Paige had screamed, doubled over with laughter when the tunnel threw her distorted voice back to them. “I am the goddess of the volcano!”

They’d been so alive then. So free. Two small-town girls with sand in their hair and the whole world spread out before them like a feast. They’d sworn they would grow old together, gray-haired besties sharing a beach house and drinking cocktails as they watched the sunset.

The memory forced the air from her lungs. How had they gone from that to this? Fun-loving besties to being torn apart with sorrow.

Pickle’s barking seemed to come from two directions at once, and the sound yanked her back to the dark tunnel and its curved walls.

“If we get lost down here, you furry little menace, I’m going to lock you up for the rest of my vacation.” Her threat seemed to be swallowed by the darkness.

Her light beam bounced over a fork in the tunnel, one branch continuing left, the other veering sharp right. Both disappeared into darkness.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She swept her light between the two options. The right tunnel sloped slightly downward and was narrower, while the left seemed to maintain its level. Pickle’s sharp bark echoed again, and she still couldn’t tell which path it came from.

“Pickle!”For fuck’s sake.“Get back here.”

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