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She slings her napkin onto the table. “That is not true!”

They continue to argue, not noticing when I leave the table and head upstairs to grab my coat. While I slip the key to my dad’s house onto the ring with my others, their voices grow louder, and suddenly, they’re back to fighting about the affair. That is possibly the only good thing about my dad moving out—I won’t have to listen their screaming matches any longer.

I’m over it.

As soon as the doorbell rings, I run downstairs, tossing a, “Bye,” over my shoulder that I doubt they even notice, and rush out.

Their yelling spills out of the house loud enough for Sebastian to hear.

“What’s going on?”

“Same fight, different day,” I say, trying to brush it off as we walk over to his car, but I can’t shake it. The incessant gloom that follows me never dulls.

When he pulls away from the house, I keep my focus out my window while I bite my cheek to keep myself from falling apart.

“Hey,” he says gently, laying his hand on my knee.

A thousand pounds of ache splits me open, and I blink fast to keep the tears away. I’m trying so hard to be strong, to not feel this way, to not be myself, but this gaping wound is everlasting, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending that everything is fine.

“Do you think we can do something else tonight?” I hate that my voice trembles.

At the light, he pulls a U-turn, and I don’t need to ask where he’s taking me—he just knows. I keep my forehead pressed against the cold window as he drives over to Marina Beach. My chest is tight, and when I look up into the sky, I wonder if that’s where the other half of me is—the better half. It has to be somewhere, right?

After he parks, I go down to the sand and sit on a piece of wood as I stare out over the water that shimmers under the light of the moon. It isn’t often we get a clear night, and the reflection it casts without the clouds is brighter than usual.

Sebastian sits next to me, and I feel bad. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Ruining our plans.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I look over at him to find he’s already looking at me, and I get an overpowering need to drop the character I’ve been playing since I left Hopewell. The magnitude of this low I can’t find my way out of has been gnawing away at me, but the fear of what will happen if someone finds out is what keeps me silent. Yet, there’s a look in Sebastian’s eyes that lets me know that maybe I don’t have be afraid of him finding out.

“Can I tell you something without you getting all worried?”

“You can tell me anything.”

Having this come so close to the surface has me splintering, and my eyes rim with tears. They’re always there, eager to break free. It’s utter agony trying to keep myself together, but I can’t anymore. I just can’t.

“I’m sad.” The words come, and the proof slips down my cheeks as my throat constricts painfully, causing my voice to strain when I tell him, “Like,reallysad.”

His brows cinch in concern. “It’s bad?”

“Yeah.” I breathe on a desperate whimper, and he threads his fingers with mine. “I had to tell someone because all I do is hold it in and it’s so painful pretending that everything’s okay when nothing is.” He pulls me close, and I tuck my head against his neck. “All I want to do is cry—all the time—and I have no idea why.”

“Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“Because there’s no one I trust. If I say anything, they’ll all freak out.”

He draws back and takes my face in his hands, asking seriously, “Do I need to be worried?”

“No.”

“I need you to be completely honest with me because this scares me.”

He has every reason to be scared—he’s seen what I’m capable of. “No, I promise.”