Had my mother been happy? Did she feel she had never fulfilled her destiny? The facts were she was a wife and mother who’d moved in with her husband’s mother. I knew Nana loved her, but whether or not my mom was happy with her life choices was a question I would never get an answer to. Joey and I were loved by them all though—we never wanted for love in our house. And how many people could say that?

I thought of Jack’s mother taking her young son to another country and changing his name with no support system or other family to speak of. How lonely it must have been. I knew I only had Joey left, but I’d grown up surrounded by so much love.

The rain started spitting against the window. I hoped Jazz had made it to my truck my now. I looked around at the small space and at the jars I had placed on a narrow shelf. They were each filled with a different shade of sea glass found on beaches up and down the Atlantic coast. Nana had been collecting it for years, and then I joined her in the passion. It was hard to find now. I grabbed a greenish one and held it up to the fading light at the window. I quickly put it back and grabbed another darker one. I marveled at the green shades as they glowed. I put it down and went out to my worktable.

It had literally been over a year since I had worked on these projects. I fingered some of the old weathered wood, palmetto boots, wire, and line I had pulled up out of the waterways and marshes while I kayaked. The chandelier I had been working on was almost complete and I’d left it abandoned.

I had a startling realization right then that I really wasn’t as okay as I’d thought I’d been. I’d happily agreed to stay here while Joey finished school, he had already started after all, and one of us needed to stay with the house. It was his turn, and then it would be mine, we’d always had that deal. But, somewhere along the way, I’d become ... not okay with it. I’d started feeling lonely and trapped. I was going through the motions here in Butler Cove, but I’d lost something. When did I stop being creative? I’d loved creating things my whole life, and I just let it fade away.

It wasn’t that I didn’t love this place. I grew up here, I had the best memories of my life and my family here. In this house. I was suddenly mad at myself, and at my weakness, and in my ridiculous strategy of avoiding life so it wouldn’t hurt me anymore. It had made everything fade. I’d become paralyzed.

I thought of how Nana always used to say ‘you only live once, so do everything twice’ right before she tried something new. Well, I had done everything exciting in my life exactly zero times. And what happened? ‘Life’ had arrived on my doorstep and taken matters into it’s own hands.

Or Nana had.

I smiled at that thought.

It would be just like her to send me my dream man to get me out of my comfort zone. She knew who he was after all. I used to sit right here in my reading nook reading the first Erath book while she worked at this very table asking me about what made Max so amazing. I wondered if she knew Jack had another girlfriend before she meddled with fate.

Also, Jack was not Max. That much was clear. Max was strong, honorable, and ruthless in his persistence to be with Claudia and keep her safe, despite being stuck in a parallel dream dimension most of the time. Jack couldn’t even tell me the truth. Or Audrey for that matter. She thought they were getting back together, and he was in a swimming pool kissing me.

I actually felt sorry for her for a moment before I remembered she had publicly humiliated him by making out with an older man all over California.

Well, they were both messed up, and I didn’t want any part of it. I couldn’t do anything about them, but I could do something about myself.

I grabbed the jars and hot glue gun and my tools and pulled a stool up to the workbench. Thirty minutes later when I heard Jazz downstairs I yelled for her to bring the drinks and the iPod speakers to the attic.

* * *

Three margaritas apiece, a finished chandelier, and much giggling later, we were both maneuvering down the stairs with a little less grace. I was balancing the speakers and my glass. Jazz had her glass and the pitcher and we were both singing All These Things That I’ve Done by The Killers at the top of our lungs. Considering our recipe for margaritas was tequila, Cointreau, and fresh lime juice—no sweet and sour filler mix for us—three was ambitious.

I groaned when we got to the stairs leading to the second floor and saw all the bare wood waiting for me. Jack. What was I going to do about Jack?

“My heart hurts.” I plopped onto my backside halfway down the stairs. “And maaaan, that boy can kiss,” I added.

“I know,” Jazz concurred sliding down to sit beside me and setting the pitcher down. “I’ve seen it in the movies...” She giggled, slurring slightly. “Why can’t we have the boys we want?” she whined. “We’re pretty. We’re nice. We’re fun, right?”

“Joey?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

She groaned and dropped her head back to the stairs behind us.

I followed her down, and we both lay propped awkwardly side by side, risers digging into our spines as we stared up at the ceiling. A deep rumble of thunder pressed in on the house, causing the windows to rattle. Apparently, the storm had hit. It was raging outside.

“There’s a cute boy in my econ one class. Brandon. He is sooooo nice.” She giggled again. “He’s so hot, too. He has these deep puppy dog brown eyes ... like chocolate. Mmm. I looove chocolate. He’s asked me out about four times, and I always say no. Why, oh why, can’t I say yes?”

“You should,” I slurred, nudging her arm. “Joey’s an ass. Why on earth would you want to date him?”

She sighed dramatically. “Cause maaaaan, that boy can kiiisssss!”

“Ew!” I nudged her again. “TMFI!”

She cackled loudly. I thumped her. And we lay there for a bit longer, the music playing loudly, both of us lost in our thoughts.

“So did you see him?” I asked her eventually, feeling sober at the turn of my thoughts. I’d studiously avoided asking about my truck or whether she saw Jack when she went back to get it.

Jazz turned and looked at me. “The clothes you left are in the kitchen,” she said, indirectly answering my question, and then went on, “he said ... he said to say thank you and good luck with the house.” She winced at the last words.

My breath whooshed out of me. It was crushing. I stretched my feet down the last few steps to the floor and let my body slide, bumping down to meet them. When I got to the bottom, I curled over, hugging my knees to my chest and buried my face. Oh God, it hurt.

“I really should have let you drag me out and about these last few years,” I mumbled. “At the very least so I could get used to some rejection. This pain ...” I took deep breath. “This shit is real.”

Jazz thumped down to meet me at the bottom and rubbed a soothing hand up and down my spine.

“I know. God, do I know.”

“I’m crazy about him. Like, totally. Ugh. Isn’t that the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard?”

“No, hon. It makes pretty good sense to me. How could you not be? We’re all in love with Max. Then the real guy comes along, and he’s nice. He’s attracted to you. He makes you laugh. It’s not like it’s your fault he turned out to be a shallow dickwad.”