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He drags a hand through his hair—once upon a time he would have removed his glasses.

“Can you blame a wave for crashing to shore?”

I throw my hands up. “For the love of everything good in the world, will you stop with the metaphor?”

He cracks a tiny smile, but it only lasts a second. “I don’t blame you for what happened, Amelia. I can’t blame you. I was responsible. I could have said no. Should have said no. But when you stood up, the way the moonlight… I lost my fucking mind.”

I recoil physically and mentally. “So that’s it, then? It was a mistake, you blame yourself, you’ll never get over it, the end? Having sex with me now is what, some sort of self-flagellation for your sin?”

He rubs his face roughly, muttering, “I don’t want this.”

For once, the truth is easy to speak.

“Neither do I.”

We dress. He drives me home.

40

ISLAND ESCAPE

Jameson is the only reason I make it to Sunday breakfast. Last night I told him I wasn’t going because I didn’t have money for an Uber. It was kinda true—I’ve been spending way more than usual—but still a bullshit excuse in his estimation. To avoid a lecture about money management, I thanked him for the offer to pick me up, promised to be ready at nine, and hung up on him.

The main reason I didn’t want to come this morning is currently staring at me with concerned eyes.

“Quit hovering, Dad, I’m just tired.”

“You’ve been sitting on this couch watching football for an hour. You don’t even like football. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yep. Totally good. Is there any more salsa?”

Dad nods, and with a final, worried glance, heads for the kitchen where Jessica is making sandwiches. A gummy bear hits the side of my face. I glare at Jameson, sprawled on the other end of the couch.

“What?” I bark.

“You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“The fake-person-who-doesn’t-feel-anything thing.”

“Suck it, Jaybird. I’m not repressing anything. Like I told you on the drive over, I simply don’t want to talk about it. Why do you want to know anything about my sex life, anyway? Freak.”

Another gummy bear bounces off my shoulder. It joins the first in my mouth.

“You’re right. The thought of you having sex makes me want to hurl. I’m still not over you growing boobs.”

“Wow. So mature.”

“I know you don’t want us to treat you like glass, Meerkat.” His serious tone pulls my gaze begrudgingly to his face. “But I think we’re entitled to worry a little when you look like that.”

I frown. “Like what?”

Jameson cocks a brow and points at different parts of me. “Your hair looks like it hasn’t been brushed in days. You’re wearing a bright-red shirt, yellow shorts, and socks with sandals. You’re a retirement home in Florida.”

Candy goes down the wrong pipe. I bend in half with a coughing fit, but I’m also laughing so hard I can’t breathe even if I wanted to. Jameson pounds on my back. Dad and Jessica run from the kitchen asking what’s wrong. It’s a shitshow.

When Jessica steps forward with her Nurse Face on, I hold up both hands. “I’m okay,” I say hoarsely, wiping tears from my eyes and swallowing past a sore throat.