Page 279 of Ominous: Part 1

Janelle’s door was closed.

Jasper’s was open, and he wasn’t in the room beyond.

Dom and Luna trudged downstairs when they heard us heading out, but when they saw us in swimsuits with towels over their shoulders, it was a no from them.

I can’t say I’m not glad.

I drop mine and Eden’s sandals, then my bright green towel.

Eden’s, bright, electric blue, is still wrapped around her body, tucked under her arms as she hugs herself. Her eyes are swollen from lack of sleep, no trace of makeup on her face because she cried it all off last night.

It felt wrong to interrupt that, the tears tracking down her cheeks.

I had to wait.

After I pushed Dom against the wall because I needed to dosomething,I made myself wait for the worst of her silent tears to stop.

I already flushed all of the weed down the toilet. It didn’t affect me like it did her, but then again, I let Dominic touch her.

I think it did affect me, after all.

And someone else touched her, too. More crippling.Just this past weekend. When I wasn’t there for her.

I swallow the knot in my throat as I watch her.

A strand of hair slipped free from her messy braids whips around her face as a cold breeze blows.

She’s staring at the Atlantic, and I can see the wildness of the tide in her irises, specifically at the top, above her pupil, where a shard of blue is lodged between brown and green. Her lips are trembling, despite the fact it really isn’tthatcold.

But she hasn’t eaten, she’s running on fitful starts and bursts of sleep, and I don’t know exactly what went through her head last night, but it was hard to watch.

I’m thinking of some words to offer her, something to touch on what happened but to stay away from her confession, because I know she doesn’t like to talk about it. Him.

I grind my teeth together.

I think of him climbing into her bed. I think of choking him to death with her sheets wrapped around his fucking throat, whoever he is.

“I’m getting in.” Her words erase my thoughts, and so does the way she drops her towel. Without preamble, no teasing, it isn’t meant to be seductive. But as she walks away from me, a straight path to the water without looking back, it’s just that.

I see the smallest of dimples on the back of her thighs, her wide hips, and in the space between them both, the best ass I’ve ever seen in the world. For a moment, I’m transfixed by it, and I don’t realize she’s dived into a shallow wave until her body disappears from view, bringing me back to life, jerking me from my fantasies.

Get it together, Eli.

I know she can swim. I’ve seen her do it. But something propels me forward anyway. A rush to save her, even though she doesn’t need it. It would just make me feel so much better, to know I could. An overabundance of caution, I run toward her, kicking up sand and my pulse as I do, trying to search through my memories for an affection like this one.

Did I ever feel this way about anyone?

My mother’s eyes come to mind. They’re always so bright in my memories, like they were the day I stared up at them through the bathwater. They shouldn’t have been, it seems impossible, human eyes weren’t made for seeing underwater, she should’ve been a blur.

But in the memory version of the event, at least, she was crystal clear.

Did I want to protect her?

Would I have jumped into a freezing cold ocean on the possibility I might save her? Maybe once upon a time. Or maybe I didn’t realize the emotion—protectiveness, possession—until she walked out.

Is that the lesson you wanted to teach me, Mom?

Icy water splashes around my ankles, the ocean so much harder to heat than anything else, and with little sunlight, it’s not even close to warm.