“We’ve had this conversation before. On your boat, remember?” She lowered her voice to imitate his. “Some people see things that aren’t there.”
He turned down the radio even lower. “But don’t you ever just feel like screaming? Letting out steam?”
Yes. “Sometimes.”
“But you never do.”
Only because last time he appeared with cheesecake and slow dances. She shrugged. “I didn’t need to be another burden growing up. My parents were—are—missionaries, working with meager budgets and little appreciation. They’d come home from trips and be worn out.” She shrugged. “I guess I felt like since I wasn’t called to missions myself, I could still serve God by making their lives easier, you know?”
“Noble of you.”
She shifted in her seat. “You think so?”
“No.” Linc shook his head at her. “You were just stuffing it all down—that’s not helpful. Especially as a kid.”
“Says the guy who bluntly expresses what he thinks abouteverything.”
“Not everything.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “You can’t appreciate the sun without a few rain clouds now and then.”
“I guess you mustlovethe sun, then, Mr. Grumpy.”
Another side-eyed look. “I’m just saying it’s okay to have a storm come through.”
“Storms are scary.”
“Rain is necessary.”
She leaned back in her seat, shifted her gaze out the window. He was right. She knew that on a logical level, but emotionally…it felt dangerous to let go. To actually scream, yell, throw something. Say what you thought.
Release the pressure inside.
Storms came with side effects, as the whole town of Magnolia Bay had seen after Hurricane Anastasia. She glanced at Linc, then at Amelia, before focusing back on the road.
It wasn’t worth the risk of widespread damage. They’d made it this far. She couldn’t stop shining now.
Or everyone she cared about would suffer.
fourteen
“What kind of school insists parents attend a field trip thefirstweek?” Linc grumbled. The bus was sticky—so sticky. He crossed his arms over his chest, his shoulder bumping Zoey’s in the constricting, peeling leather seats. Overly applied adolescent perfume and body odor competed in the small space, as the bus bounced over a pothole still yet to be fixed on Marsh Street.
“Well, it’s the only middle school in Magnolia Bay, for starters.” Zoey gripped the seat in front of her, grinning as a row of kids in the back broke into a rousing chorus ofThis is the Song That Never Ends. In her graphic T-shirt and ripped jeans, she didn’t look much older than a teenager herself. “And this is what parents do—I’m assuming.”
“Then why are we the only ones here besides the teacher?” He gestured with his chin to the front of the long vehicle, where an already-tired-looking woman rode behind the bus driver.
“I don’t know. Amelia said Principal Vaughn needed chaperones or the field trip to New Orleans would get canceled.” Zoey shrugged. “So here we are.”
Yep. Trapped. When he needed to be fixing that loose board at the concession shack and prepping the boat before the next tour tomorrow. “There’s so many…kids.”
“On a school event? Shocking.” She rolled her eyes with a little grin. “We couldn’t tell Amelia no. I think it’s a good sign she asked.”
Good point. It’d been five days since their return from her apartment, four days since she started school, and the week had been…interesting. Not that he expected their post-run-from-the-diner-talk and impromptu road trip to get her stuff to be a massive breakthrough, but she still kept her distance more than not. Slept with that ratty unicorn. Argued.
Slammed her door a lot.
Ms. Bridges had checked in Wednesday on the phone, and he tried to tell her only the good stuff. Like Amelia had eaten a vegetable on Wednesday without protest and had stopped being rude to their friends. Not that he was too worried about Ms. Bridges taking Amelia back—where was she going to go?
But in the middle of the night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he wondered if Amelia could ever choose to leave.
