“What?” I ask, walking over to him, adjusting my glasses so they’re pushed back up my face. “Get the fuck out.” We both look at each other, blinking with our mouths agape.
“Looks like Tommy could be in a lot of trouble.”
I nod. “Looks like it. Do you think he knows this is here?”
“I doubt it. There is no way he’d allow a backdoor in his system.”
“Right. But the real question is, who put it there and who’s accessing it?”
Luke shrugs with a fuck if I know expression. “You need to call his ass, like this second, and I’m going to order the pizza. This could take a while.”
28
Kate
* * *
The beach is as gorgeous as I remember it being. The hotel, just as beautiful. Do I care? Not in the slightest.
I’m miserable.
So miserable I find my pathetic ass waking up crying. I haven’t done this since the months following the accident.
The night I left Ryan, I hadn’t gone to sleep.
After we watched Star Wars, we went to bed, made love, and then he passed out with me wrapped in his arms. It felt like it was exactly how it would be every night for the rest of our lives. But that niggling feeling in the back of my mind, twisting my insides, was still there.
I was restless, and when I got up at four, my instinct was to pack up all of my stuff and go.
So I kissed Ryan goodbye, told him that I loved him, and left.
Dick move? Without a doubt.
But I couldn’t say goodbye to him. I just…couldn’t.
It would have been impossible to look into his eyes and tell him I was leaving. It would have broken me, and I needed this escape. Despite my misery, I know this is how it’s supposed to be. I drove straight to the airport, parked my car in long-term parking, went right into the terminal and bought a one-way ticket to Hawaii. Short of going home—which was not an option for me—this was the closest place I knew I’d be able to feel Eric.
See him again.
That was all I could think about doing.
So I wake up crying—thank you for that, Ryan—go for a run, eat something, and then sit on the beach, watching the waves while thinking.
I do a lot of that.
The first day I was gone, Ryan sent me the picture Tommy took of us in DC in that restaurant we went to. Yesterday it was a picture of us on the beach in North Carolina. He’s sent them at the same time every day, which means I should get it soon while I watch the sun come up.
I have no intention of living in Hawaii, or even staying here particularly long.
I just needed an escape, and the thought of driving south or east just didn’t appeal.
The thought of driving didn’t appeal.
I just couldn’t start over again. It felt like fate, a good omen maybe, that Hawaii was the first flight out. Like somehow Eric was directing me.
But today Eric isn’t really who’s occupying my thoughts.
It’s Maggie.
My fingers clasp my pendant, a place they’ve been visiting more and more frequently in the last couple of days. We only took her to the beach once, and that was on the north shore of Massachusetts. She would have loved it here, would have been non-stop action. Dragging both Eric and me into the ocean, and fishing, and jumping in the pool.
If I close my eyes, I can almost picture it.
I hate this feeling, yet I somehow revel in it.
But if I’m honest with myself, I haven’t felt this low in a while.
Not since that night in the car with Ryan, and even then it wasn’t this bad because I had him there to hold me through it. Ryan. Yeah, he seemed to make all of this ugliness better. Seemed to make it easier to carry and walk through, knowing he was with me on the other side.
My phone pings from the pocket of my shorts, and for a moment, I hesitate, knowing what it’s going to be. But then my curiosity gets the better of me, so I slide it out of my shorts, swipe the screen to unlock it, and stare at the image.
It’s of me on the beach in Charleston, staring at the sunrise—much the way I am now—but this is a candid shot. I didn’t know he was taking it and it’s obvious. My eyes are distant, my hair blowing out behind me, and a small grateful smile is pulling at the corner of my lips. I can’t see my entire face, it’s a profile shot, but I get the point.
I wonder how many pictures he took without me noticing.
There’s a message with the picture, which is new for him.
This was the moment I knew I was in trouble.
I’m not really sure what he means by the word trouble. Did he know that I would hurt him? Is that what he’s trying to say? That he knew I’d be no good for him? I can’t stand that thought. I can’t sit here anymore; it’s making me nuts.
I need to go find something to do.
Lucky for me, this island has no shortage of activities to occupy my time.
I find a lot of things to do.
I end up going for a really long walk and then hiking around a remote part of the island. By the time I make it back, it’s late and I’m hungry and tired, but my mind is quiet, and I sleep.
My early morning run consists of pounding rain.
Not exactly fun and it definitely knocks out sitting on the beach, because this rain is supposed to keep up all day.
I miss Ryan. I miss Eric, and I miss Maggie.
Not in that order. Maggie is first, and always will be. But I’ve been putting off thinking about Ryan. I see the pictures he sends me, and then I tuck them away.
Eric, on the other hand, is everywhere—just as I intended him to be. I see his smiles and feel his touches and hear his laughter. Hear his words. And it breaks me all over again.
I know this is bad.
I know what I’m doing is counterproductive, and detrimental to my mental health and all that bullshit, but I can’t seem to stop it either. I long for those memories. I want to drown in them and never come up for air again. Immerse myself in the pain of it.
My phone pings right on schedule, but this time, I set my phone face down on the nightstand and crawl back under the covers.
It’s raining anyway.
Two hours later when I wake up, the first thing I do is go for the damn phone that has been waiting for me. Another candid picture of me. This time I’m driving, my mouth slightly open like I’m saying something or singing, I can’t tell which.
Another message.
This was the first time I heard you sing—it was on the way to the show we went to.
I remember that night. I remember the dancing and jumping around, and the fun we had together—until that creepy guy came along of course. Another text comes in while I’m still looking at the picture, which surprises me. Ryan usually only sends one a day.
It’s of us at that show, all red-cheeked and smiling.
I would do anything to keep you safe— I would slay dragons for you.
Damn him. Dammit, Ryan.
I toss my phone back on the nightstand and cover myself with my blankets again. I’m done for the day and it isn’t even lunchtime.
I slept through the rest of the day and night. I haven’t done that in almost two years. I should be concerned about this, and maybe I am a little, but I can’t seem to stop it either. This downward spiral has got me firmly in its grasp and I’m allowing it to hold on tight.