Page 79 of Riptide

He hums and drops his backpack to the floor as I remove my shoes and spin him toward me again. Those blue eyes turn to me, shining some kind of light that makes me feel seen and wanted more than ever. His hair curls in front of his eyebrows today, the unruly ends flicking around. I love it. I love the fact that he’s here with me, trusting me right now.

“If…” he starts, then pauses to swallow, uncertainty coloring his pupils. “If I happen to panic, Dr. Hale always tells me to name five types of something; trees, birds, states, it can be anything to bring my mind back down to rational thinking again. It helps.”

“Okay,” I say, moving my fingers up and down his covered arm. “I’ll remember that.”

“It’s just that I need you to know there’s a high chance I might panic and, well…”

“Finn,” I say and wait for his shadowed eyes to lock onto mine. “It’s okay. I’m here for whatever happens. There’s no world where I walk away from you tonight.”

Or ever, my lovesick brain finishes for me.

Chapter thirty-three

Finn

IthoughtIcoulddo this. We settled into the room we’re staying in, and something about the still night air made me believe I could walk out here tonight with the moon as my witness.

It smells like sea salt and pine and something earthy, like moss after rain. Port Orford is quiet tonight, just the distant swoosh of the tide and our footsteps crunching over gravel as we make our way down the sloped road from the bed and breakfast. I shove my hands deeper into my pockets and try to pretend my spine isn’t buzzing with something that feels a lot like panic.

Foxx walks beside me, his shoulder brushing mine now and then, not by accident, and I take comfort in that, in him.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I lie. “Just cold.”

He doesn’t call me on it, and we continue walking.

The streets are empty, the porch lights of a few houses glowing. We pass the little general store, then a row of shutteredshops. Everything looks like a movie set left behind. It should be calming. Instead, I feel like I’m walking toward an edge.

When we turn the corner, I can hear it—no, more than hear it. I feel it. Each wave crashing and undulating against the sand like they’re trying to pull something out of me.

My legs slow the closer we get. Like my body’s already trying to protect me from what’s coming, my brain shouting to stop and turn around.

Foxx glances over again. “We can turn back.”

I shake my head too fast, sucking in air. “No. I want to see it.”

He gives a little nod, and we come to the edge of the soft sand as it mixes with the beach grass, feet sinking slightly with each step. As we crest the last low bluff, the world opens.

The Pacific stretches out in front of us, vast and endless glistening black and silver under the moonlight. The tide’s coming in, slow and heavy, leaving light foam over dark sand. It should be beautiful. It probably is, but all I feel is dread.

My breath snags like a splinter in my chest. My legs lock up. I stop walking.

Foxx takes two more steps before he realizes I’m not with him, then turns back.

“Finn?”

I shake my head. I can’t— I can’t do it. The sound of the waves is wrong. Too loud. Too familiar. Each crash is like a memory slamming into me, over and over, relentlessly dragging me under. I can’t go back to that day yet. I won’t be able to find him, to save him.

I try to swallow, but it’s like my throat’s closing. My hands curl into fists, nails digging into skin. I can’t get enough air in— I can’t—

Shit. Shit. I need to remember what Dr. Hale told me, but every rational thought has left my mind.

“Hey.” Foxx is in front of me now, his cool hands encasing my face. “Look at me.”

I can’t. My eyes are locked on the water over his shoulder, and it’s like it’s pulling me under without even touching me. I’m not on the beach anymore. I’m back there. Back in that moment. Back to the panic and the screaming and the silence after.

Then I’m in my hotel room. Soaking wet. Hair dripping down my face. My hands wrinkled from the water. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, staring through the glass, the ocean still visible in the distance. The waves are too calm for something that took my best friend from me. Staring at the changing blues, I feel…empty.

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