Page 93 of Chasing Stars
“What are we doing?” I ask, turning to face him.
Miles inhales sharply. “I have something I want to show you. I thought about blind folding you, but I was so nervous, I forgot the blind fold.” He chuckles at himself.
“Okay,” I breathe.
“So, I’d appreciate it if you’d close your eyes.” Miles unbuckles his seat belt, and I do the same. “I’ll come around and get you. Stay put.”
I don’t get to answer him—he’s on my side of the car in a matter of seconds. He opens my door and reaches a hand inside for me to take. I do, and I allow him to help me out of the car. His warm hand sends a tingle of goose bumps up my arm.
“Close your eyes,” Miles rasps.
I do as I’m told and let him lead me down the familiar terrain of the beach’s path, but we stop at the end without going further.
“Before you open your eyes, I have something to say.” Miles’s voice quivers, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Okay,” I say, surprising myself with the emotion in my own voice.
Miles takes a deep breath. “Jenna, when we met, I had no ideawhoyou were. I didn’t even know the man who rescued me had passed away. My parentsnevertalk about that day. It still makes my mom cry to think about it. So, I never brought it up. When I met you, I wasn’t interested in dating anyone—my divorce all but broke me. It made me feel like a failure, and I just preferred not to date anyone seriously. You changed all of that. I fell in love with you, Jenna. I’m so deeplyinlove with you that it makes my chest hurt. The thought of you leaving here without knowing how much you mean to me would have killed me. I need you to know.”
No one has ever said anything like this to me before—at least not with such raw emotion. Miles’s voice is tender, unsteady, and it unlocks something inside me that I closed off from him. I believe him and suddenly I can’t believe I spent so many weeks pushing him away.
He stops talking and takes another shuddering breath. “You can open your eyes.” We’re standing in front of the pavilion that has been on this beach for as long as I can remember. It’s a wornwooden structure with benches under it and sand practically ingrained in the concrete floor.
I blink against the afternoon light and the tears blurring my vision.
Miles gestures toward a large metal plaque at the center of the pavilion’s arch. And then I see it. My father’s name. It reads,The Nicholas Rossi Memorial Pavilion. It hits me like a wave to the chest. My knees nearly give out.
“If you’re still going to leave Cape May, I can’t let go without knowing what you—and your dad—mean to me.”
A gasp catches in my throat. “Miles,” My voice is thick with emotion. “How did you do this?”
“My dad’s a town councilman, remember? They voted on it last week.” Miles drops my hand and steps aside, revealing a fiberglass sign with my father’s picture on it and a paragraph of text.
I step forward and read it aloud, my voice trembling:
“In Memory of Nicholas Rossi
September 16, 1957 – October 22, 1997
Nicholas Rossi, a brave and selfless soul, passed away
from a heart attack after
performing a heroic rescue at Cove Beach.
His selflessness and unwavering commitment
to others will never be forgotten.
His legacy of heroism will continue
to inspire all who knew him.”
A mix of grief and gratitude crash into me. For so long, I’ve carried this story alone—my father’s heroism, my mother’s illness. Now it is carved here into permanence. I’m not the only one keeping our story alive anymore. I don’t know why I didn’tsee it before but Milesseesme. He did this, not just for my dad but forme. I don’t realize I’m crying until Miles wraps me in a tight hug from behind, pulling me into his chest and kissing the side of my head. I whirl around to face him, and the anguish on his face mirrors my own. He tucks me under his chin.
“I don’t know what to say,” I whimper, sniffling. “You had the pavilion named after him?”
Miles sniffles too. “I did. He deserves to be remembered.”
