Page 51 of The Secrets We Keep

But today, I needed some fresh air.

I was used to being the bad guy in this town. When people needed someone to step in, they called me, and I did what they couldn’t. I broke up parties that got out of hand, I arrested abusive husbands, and, yeah, I’d even taken my own father to the station once or twice.

I was used to being that guy, and usually, I didn’t lose sleep over it. At the end of the day, I was okay with who I was because I was making a difference.

Or at least trying to.

But today, I did not like myself.

I did not like that sad, disappointed look I’d put on Marin’s face, or the fact that I’d simply walked out the door rather than apologize.

But there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

I was too close.

Dangerously close. If I hung around Marin any longer, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stomach the idea of watching her go back to that boyfriend of hers without putting up a fight.

And I did not deserve her.

The cool air blew across my face as I sat in my cruiser. The engine was off, and I’d already eaten the sad excuse of a sandwich I’d grabbed from the local market. I had parked in my usual spot—in the far corner along the water’s edge. I had to crane my neck to get a proper view, but at least from this angle, I couldn’t see that damn memorial.

The tourists were sparse, and the ferry schedule had adjusted accordingly. I enjoyed this time of the year for that very reason. It was the only time when the town truly felt ours.

As I was watching the last few cars load onto the ferry, I noticed one get out of line at the last minute.

Why do I recognize that car?

It parked in the middle of the parking lot, and the engine shut off. I squinted, trying to get a view of the driver.

And that was when I saw her.

Son of a bitch.

Marin was in the front seat with her car filled to the brim.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was leaving.

Or at least, she was trying to.

She pushed the door open wide, and she stepped out. She took one foot to the left and then plopped down to the ground, her hands cradling her face.

Shit, is she crying?

Why is she rushing home?

I thought about that conversation we’d had about her dad and his declining health.

I was up and moving before I had time to think.

“Marin!” I shouted, stalking toward her. “What happened?”

She looked up at me, and her tears doubled.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Of course it’s you!”

I froze. “What?”

“Of course you would show up when I was trying to sneak away.”

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