She’ll be at the end of the docks soon.
“Finn, stop,” she belts out.
I go from worrying about her getting in the boat to worrying about what could happen if she doesn’t. What if she falls off the edge of the dock while trying to reach me? The water is much deeper than it looks.
“Dia, wait,” is all I manage to say before she makes it to the end of the platform.
Then she uses the last of her energy to jump. I always thought the people who say nerve-racking moments happen in slow motion were full of shit, but I swear it feels like time clocked out for the day when her feet push off the wooden structure.
I can’t fucking breathe.
By some miracle, she makes it. She manages to get into the boat before it drifts too far from the shore, landing on her hands and knees. I put down my liquor bottle on cue, sprinting to her side. Breathing heavily, she looks up at me through strands of dark hair and tear-soaked eyelashes. Her brown eyes are bright red. As though she’s been crying for two hours straight.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” I scold, wrapping my arms around her small waist and hoisting her up. Dia nearly collapses from the adrenaline as soon as I help her to her feet, and I catch her, torn between wanting to kiss her and lecture her.
“I couldn’t abandon you,” she chokes out before grabbing the collar of my jacket for balance.
I’m not letting her off the hook that easy. “Jesus, Dia, you could’ve gotten hurt, or worse.”
“I know, but you needed me,” she pants, lifting a hand to her racing heart.
“No, I didn’t. I needed you to let me go,” I lie, fighting the relief spreading through my entire body.
I’m glad that she’s here.
Fuck, why am I so weak?
“Never,” she whispers, her response fueling my guilt.
She’s just like my mom.
She’d do anything to protect me, including put herself in danger.
I recall my conversation with her brother when I dropped by her house earlier. He said I was doing the right thing by leaving her. The truth crashes into me like a goddamn meteorite.
This girl might be saving me.
But I’m killing her.
“You need to turn the boat around.” Dia looks back at the marina. It’s growing more and more distant by the second, the docked boats shrinking in size.
“No,” I drawl and turn away from her.
“We need to go back. It’s going to rain soon,” she insists, gripping my arm. I respond by grabbing the half-full bottle of whiskey on the floor and chugging it. I don’t even know what the fuck to do from here. All I know is my trauma is linked to this place, and so the answer to how to move on should be here.
It has to be.
“Did you hear me? We need to leave. This isn’t safe.” She tugs on the sleeve of my jacket, and I ignore her.
“I have to do this,” I mutter.
“Just look up, damn it.” She points to something above our heads, and I tilt my head back, taking in the dark, cloudy sky. I swear the sun was shining not even five minutes ago.
I can’t argue with her. This shit doesn’t look good, but I’m afraid if I go back now, I’ll never find the courage to come here again, and we’ll just end up right back where we started. I’m about to drag another sip of whiskey when she snaps.
“Okay, you’ve had enough.” Dia tries to snatch the bottle out of my hand, and I fling it away, spilling whiskey onto the deck without meaning to. I pay the puddle no mind and keep on drinking. My focus darts to the lighthouse by the docks for a second.
“You see that lighthouse?” I point to the tower across the lake.