Page 80 of Playing With Fire
My eyes go wide at the monster before me and I break.
Just like he wanted me to.
“YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” I yell. “Leave Hudson alone!Iwas the one that pursuedhim, not the other way around. This ismyfault.”
“Oh, I know it is, but the best way to punish you, is to destroy him. Welcome to the beach.” My breathing is ragged and my nostrils flare as I fight my tears. Gregor pulls a room key from his pocket and holds it in front of my face. “I’ll be back by eight-thirty. It’d be wise for you to be there when I return.”
I snatch the key, grab my bag, and practically run to the elevators. The silver doors haven’t even slid all the way closed before my tears spring free and my shaking hands call Hudson one last time.
Chapter 32
Hudson
Isit in my truck for at least fifteen minutes before I gain the courage to open the door. As soon as I do, I know I’ll hear the waves crashing to shore directly behind Knox’s house. I’m simultaneously eager for it and dreading it.
Knox has already graciously checked on me and I know he told the rest of the guys where I am because their texts were quick to follow.
Phoenix
Let me know if you need backup.
Jake
Good luck, man.
Dylan
I didn’t know him, but it sounds like Will is in those waves. I hope you get theclosure you need.
I smile at Dylan’s message. Insightful fucker.
Finally steeling myself for the inevitable, I push my door open and stay seated as the sound hits my ears. The onslaught of emotion is instantaneous, as are the tears I can’t hold back. Instead of carrying all my shit inside the house and getting settled though, I’m struck with the need to feel the sand and be close to my best friend in any way I can.
Knox’s house is oceanfront on a small patch of land on a beach that isn’t popular because it’s surrounded by marsh.
In other words, it’s fucking perfect. I race up the stairs to the house, walk around to the deck, and head back down the other set of stairs which spits me out right in the sand. I follow the path and stop when I crest the dunes.
It feels like a religious experience when my eyes land on the body of water I call home: the Atlantic Ocean.
My steps slow as I slide in the sand until I’m on the actual beach, next to the ocean—not the substitute at the lake—and I fall to my knees, crying into my hands. A loud, destroyed, angry, cry that erupts from the depths of my core.
“Will, I fuckingmiss you, brother,” I tell the vacant space next to me where my best friend should be standing right now. “I’m fucking everything up without you.”
Digging my fingers into my eyes, I sit back on my ass so I can take my shoes and socks off and roll my pant legs up. I don’t care that it’s the week before Thanksgiving and the water is going to be fifty-five degrees. There are some things only saltwater can heal.
My soul is one of them.
I walk to the water’s edge, preparing for the bitter cold to shock my system, but it’s surprisingly warm. So much so, I strip my jeans, shirt, and jacket off and throw them back on the beach with my shoes, leaving me in just my boxers. It’s not balmy, but it isn’t the polar plunge I was expecting, either. Iwade in until I’m waist deep and drop below the surface. Under the water, I close my eyes and suddenly I hear Will’s voice as clear as day.
They need you. They all need you. You’re strong enough. You thrive on protecting others. It’s what you were built for. So, protect them.
By the time I walk back up the beach to my clothes, the ocean has carried away my tears, soothed the ache in my bones, and cleared my head.
I should’ve known I’d find Will here and I never should have stayed away so long.
Am I suddenly okay with the fact that he’s gone? Of course not. Am I still grieving? Yes. I always will be. But when you’re connected to something like he and I were connected to the ocean, it’s amazing the perspective you gain with its proximity. Before leaving the beach, I make a promise to the water, the sand, and the spirit of my best friend that I won’t let so much time pass before I’m back.
I carry my stuff inside and finally get settled, putting away the few food items I brought. I let the salt water dry on my skin, marveling at the familiar feeling. I’ll shower off before I go to bed, but it’s comforting in the way that having Shannon’s scent linger on me is.
