Page 36 of Sea La Vie (The Outer Banks #1)

Eden

“ E den,” Henry says as he walks into my store, not bothering with any niceties.

“Good morning, Eden. How are you, Eden? Lovely, to see you, Eden,” I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Have you seen Lainey this morning?”

I’m momentarily taken aback that he has strung six words together in my presence without so much as a mumble.

I decide to pay attention to the espresso machine, his uncharacteristic behavior catching me off guard.

“Not this morning, why?” I pour a freshly brewed shot of espresso into a mug then pour milk into a stainless cup for steaming.

When I turn the steamer on, a loud spewing noise fills the air, and I catch a glimpse of Henry frowning.

He doesn’t bother to wait for the noise to clear, just crosses over to the other side of the counter and stands pointedly toward me.

When I don’t stop steaming my milk, he reaches over the counter and unplugs the machine.

“What the heck?” I whirl around to face him and cross my arms, plastering on the meanest face I can muster.

“Lainey’s missing, Eden. You haven’t seen her?” He shoves a sandy colored lock off his forehead with his hand, and blows out a breath in frustration.

“What do you mean she’s missing?” I set the mug down onto the counter and feel my heartrate pick up.

“Huck and Dad got home from Duke last night. Dad got released to do normal activities, and he went over to Lainey’s this morning to let her know. She wasn’t home, so he checked the docks, and the boat was gone too.”

The bell above the door chimes and Lainey and Henry’s dad bustles in. Thunder booms again, lightning cracking through the sky with it. Drops of rain begin splattering against the window, and the sinking feeling in my stomach intensifies.

“Have you seen Lainey?” Archer asks, scanning the store.

I shake my head as he looks at me, the tiny bit of hope I had left evaporated. “Anything, Henry?”

“No,” Henry says quietly. “It’s getting rough out there, too.”

We all turn toward the window, where rain is spattering against it, coming down harder and harder with each passing second. “This storm is unlike anything I’ve ever seen since…” Archer coughs then shakes his head. “We’ve got to find her fast.”

“What can I do?” I ask, grabbing the counter to steady myself. My best friend is missing in the biggest freak storm of the century.

“Stay here and call me if you see her,” Archer responds. “I’m going to call the Coast Guard.” He runs back out the door and Henry and I turn to each other.

“Where’s Tate?” he asks.

“He left this morning to go back to Charlotte and get his stuff,” I say. “He stopped in when I first opened for a latte to go.”

“And Lainey wasn’t with him?”

“No,” I say. “He was by himself.”

“When did you last talk to her?” He asks.

“Yesterday. She wanted to do something with Tate later in the day, but he had a meeting with his contractor and couldn’t,” I explain.

Then, a thought strikes me. I pull out my phone and pray for enough cell service to reach Tate.

He answers on the second ring, some pop song playing in the background, before turning it down to answer.

“Have you talked to Lainey today?” I ask.

“No…” he answers, skeptically. “Why?”

I lick my lips then grimace. “She’s missing. The boat is gone, and no one can get ahold of her.”

I hear the rumble of Tate’s car slow, then a blinker. “You don’t think she’s out there, do you?” he asks.

“I do,” I reply. “What happened when you told her you had to meet your contractor yesterday?”

“She left,” he says. “But I didn’t actually meet with my contractor. I went to her garden to finish it.”

“Hmm,” I murmur. “She seemed a little off yesterday when she came in here after leaving your house. Do you think she knew you were lying?”

“I don’t think so? I mean, I was lying, but only because I wanted to surprise her. Why?”

“Think about it Tate. She woke up at your house and you practically kicked her out and said you didn’t want to see her later,” I explain. Henry grimaces and I roll my eyes.

“You think she took that as I’m not interested in her anymore? We made plans to go visit my Grandpa, though.”

“She could’ve,” I say. “If I know Lainey, I’d bet she second-guessed herself all the way to the boat and took off to clear her head.”

“Oh no,” Tate says. “Oh no, oh no, oh no.”

Archer walks back in, his face even whiter than before. “They’re sending out the Coast Guard now. They tried to radio her and it’s not going through.” Thunder booms in the distance and the power flickers. “I haven’t seen it this bad in a while,” he mutters.

“I’ll go out there myself and try to find her,” Tate says. “I’m on my way back now. This is all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. That might not even be why she left. I’m just looking to blame someone,” I admit. “I’m scared and worried. And there’s no way you’re taking a boat out when you get here. The water’s nearly even with the docks and pretty choppy, even for the bay.”

“Oh man,” Tate says. He blows out a frustrated breath. “I’m on my way.”

An hour and a half passes before Tate’s car pulls up in front of the shop. He bursts through the door a moment later, his shirt soaked from the seconds of being out in the weather.

“Any news?” he asks.

I shake my head then glance toward some of the members of the Coast Guard taking up residence in the corner of the shop. They’re nursing hot coffees while they check for updates on their laptops, and every time they pick up their phones, my heart stills.

Tate follows my eyes to the one on the phone and hope begins to bubble deep in my belly that they’ve finally found her. When he hangs up, he lowers his head and speaks so quietly, I’m unable to hear him. The other Coast Guardsmen nod, and he excuses himself from the table.

“Good afternoon.” He sticks out his hand for Tate, and he gives it a curt shake.

Archer joins us, nervously fiddling with the zipper of his rain jacket.

I can only imagine how he feels right now, no doubt experiencing déjà vu from losing his wife years earlier.

“I just got off the phone with my men. They are calling off the search for the time being until this storm dies down.”

“What?” Tate cries. “You can’t give up like that. You have to find her.”

“We’re not giving up,” he explains. “Just pausing things to keep our men safe. If they don’t stay safe, there’s no chance of her coming home either. We’ll send them back out the second it dies down. I promise.”

Archer is chewing his lip, staring at the ground. He shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels.

“Can I do anything for you while you wait?” the Coast Guardsman asks.

No one says anything for a moment, until Archer clears his throat. “Just bring her home safely, okay?” His voice cracks, and it’s so soft, it’s almost a whisper. Then, he turns around and walks out the door.

The Coast Guardsman lowers his head, then walks back over to his table.

Tate begins to furiously pace the length of the counter, running his hands through his hair.

Unsure of what to do, and needing to keep my hands busy, I refill all their mugs and eavesdrop for any information I can get.

They quiet when I near the table, their talk becoming hushed whispers.

The bell above the door rings, and another Coast Guardsman comes rushing in.

Puddles form around his boots, water dripping steadily off his rain jacket.

“Chief,” he says, his voice a steady calm that’s a stark contrast to how I feel.

The Chief moves to stand and he rushes over to him.

Tate and I both follow, and he glances at us hesitantly.

“It’s okay. They can stay,” the chief says.

“You may want to sit for this,” he says and pulls a chair out for both of us. I sit, while Tate remains rooted in place, his face an ashen gray. “They found her boat,” he says.

“They did?” I say, relief washing over.

“They did,” he confirms. “But she’s not on it.”