Forever Beach by Shelley Noble

Author:Shelley Noble
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-04-07T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Sarah stared at the place on the steps where he had been, then looked down the street to see if he was going back to the beach or to Dive Works or home. He was nowhere, like he’d just disappeared. Maybe he’d been a figment of her imagination.

She was that crazed. Maybe she had imagined the whole thing, him saying he wasn’t going to leave her, that they’d get through it. She was a fool. Everybody left.

Well, hell, it didn’t take him long to change his mind.

She went back in the house. Closed the door, locked it. Just because.

She took out a bottle of water from the fridge, pressed it to her forehead until it hurt. Then she drank the whole bottle leaning against the cool surface of the door, smothering Sam’s written words, Fix the now. So much for that. She’d royally screwed up the now. Left her friends. Hurt Wyatt. Sabotaged her own happiness. Why couldn’t she just get it right?

GIRL. YOU’RE NOT gonna last a minute if you keep letting everything upset you. You gotta be hard. If they see you crying like a baby, they’re gonna go for you. Do bad things to you. Do you want that? I didn’t think so, so quit sniveling and show ’em how tough you are. Always hang tough and they’ll stay out of your face and your pants if you’re lucky. Be weak and you’re finished.

SARAH HAD HUNG tough, stayed strong, and she felt like she was finished anyway. And she’d really tried. She thought of Nonie just a few miles away all this time and her heart broke all over again while at the same time anger swelled inside her. Nonie who was her sister, who wouldn’t take her case, who came to spy on her and called the police on her when she confronted her.

Sarah just didn’t get it.

Fix the now, dammit.

She went back to the bathroom, washed her face for real, and put on makeup. It didn’t hide much, but she could pretend, and by the time Leila returned there would hardly be any traces of tears or scratches left.

ILONA MEANT TO drive her car to the church, be there early to stand with her father, just for show. But her heart just wasn’t in it. She drove “home” to the mansion she’d grown up in.

She parked in front of the three-car garage, knowing that people would return to the house after the funeral, and she’d be blocked in. She’d have to stay to the bitter end. Her penance for not being lovable enough, smart enough—just not enough.

She didn’t feel sad, not exactly. Not standing in the living room waiting to leave for the church. Everything in its same place except for the one vase she’d broken in a fit of temper.

It had never been replaced. Maybe it was irreplaceable. Like a Ming or Limoges. She couldn’t remember what it had looked like. An empty spot had stayed on that side table ever since. An empty reminder.

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