She kept her gaze focused on town. Down the block, Abby Wilkins and Delancey Crane were coming out of Downtown Books, their heads bent together in laughter. They looked so easy together, so natural, their arms looped through each other’s in a way that told you right away: best friends. A sharp pain wrenched through Emerson, shredding its way through her insides.
Grabbing Josh’s elbow, she took a sudden left, steering them away from town. “I thought we could go to the water,” she explained when Josh gave her a curious look.
They walked quietly for a while, neither saying anything. The sun was setting above, the sky glowing red behind a scattering of gray clouds. Before long they reached Dove Cove, a tiny inlet lined with rental homes and inns, mostly empty now that summer was over. Josh looked over at her as they started down the concrete walkway that bordered the beach. “I called you so many times after that summer, Em. But it was like, poof”—he snapped his fingers—“you had just vanished into thin air.”
Emerson watched the waves licking at the thin strip of sand down below, pearly white shells glinting underneath the froth. Next to her, an errant strand of hair fell into Josh’s eyes, and she was surprised by a sudden urge to push it back. With Matt—and with her previous boyfriend, Scott Ratner—things had never been what you could call tender. But she’d wanted it that way: as different from Josh as she could get. Anything to forget him. “I guess I didn’t know where to begin,” she said.
“How about why you left?” Josh offered. “Why you didn’t even say good-bye?”
“It’s not that easy,” Emerson began, but she stopped short as something wet splashed against her hand. “Was that rain?” She looked up. The sky had turned stormier, and a pregnant cloud hung right above them. As she stared up, several fat raindrops pelted from the sky, landing on her cheeks.
“Talk about standing under a dark cloud,” Josh commented, and it was such a him thing to say that she couldn’t help but smile.
“Echo Bay has some serious freak storms,” she told him. “You should put that in your novel.”
Even as she spoke, the rain was starting to thicken, drops landing in all those hard-to-reach places: in her ears and behind her neck. “We should probably get—”
The rest of her sentence was drowned out by a massive, ground-quaking clap of thunder.
“Uh-oh,” she said slowly.
Josh looked down at her, his lashes shiny with water. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little rain.”
Emerson shook her head. “Believe me, there is no such thing as ‘a little rain’ in Echo Bay.” No sooner had the words left her lips than thunder clapped again, booming like a bass drum. Lightning followed, slicing fast and bright through the air. And then, in a blink of an eye, it was happening.
The sky exploded, a wall of water rushing toward the ground, soaking their clothes and pooling at their feet. “Armageddon!” Josh yelled. He grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the street. “Come on, my place is only a block away, we can wait it out there!”
Josh kept her hand firmly in his as they broke into a sprint, racing blindly through the rain. Her hair whipped into her face and rain slashed at her back, the world a swirl of leaves and wind and sand and water. “Two minutes until the end of the world,” Josh called out. He squeezed her hand and she could see him laughing through the rain.
“I’m not sure we’re going to make it!” she joked back.
“Oh no, you’re not going down on my watch.” He dropped her hand, wrapping an arm around her instead. “Hold on!” He picked up his pace, half carrying her as they tore down the street. “We’re flying,” he yelled with a laugh, and for a second she really felt as if she were lifting into the air, the rain gliding off her like silk. It was one of the things she’d always loved about Josh, how he could make the world seem like an adventure, a storybook—every page filled with magic.
“This one!” he said, pulling her up the steps of a tiny beach cottage. Rain pounded down on them as Josh jammed the key into the door, throwing it open. They tumbled inside at the same time, arms scraping together. Josh kicked the door closed as they collapsed on the floor, breathing hard. “That is definitely going in my book,” Josh choked out.
Emerson pushed her soggy hair out of her eyes. Across the room, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was kinking and plastered to her face, and most of her makeup had washed off. “Oh god! Just make sure I’m not in it. I look like a survivor of the Titanic.”
Josh laughed. “A beautiful survivor,” he assured her. He sounded so sincere. He was looking at her as if she were wearing a ball gown and tiara instead of a drenched blazer and clingy bits of sand. It gave her a sharp pang for the way she’d felt that summer, knowing that someone had seen every bit of her—every Emmy, ugly-duckling bit—and liked her anyway.
“Ha,” Emerson scoffed. She looked down, hoping he couldn’t see her blushing. “I take it back. I look like one of the ones who didn’t survive.”
Josh laughed even harder, sagging against the wall. “In that case, I must look like a wild thing from Where the Wild Things Are.”
A giggle escaped her. “If he’d been dunked in a wild-thing-size toilet.”
“And plastered with sand,” Josh added.
“And buried in a pile of leaves.” She reached over, plucking two crumpled, orange leaves out of Josh’s hair.
“We really should model,” Josh said thoughtfully. “Oh, wait, you did!”
Emerson couldn’t help it; she lost it at that. She collapsed in a heap, laughing so hard she snorted.
“Aw, I missed that little Miss Piggy laugh,” Josh said, which just made Emerson snort again.
“It’s like Kermit’s dream sound,” Josh went on.
“Stop it,” Emerson wheezed, snorting twice in a row as she bent over with laughter. There were very few people she ever truly laughed in front of: her real, convulsing, snorting laugh. Other than her dad, Josh was the only guy who had ever heard it.
Josh leaned over, pushing a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “Man, I missed you, Em.”
Her laughter caught in her throat. His breath was warm on her cheek, and she felt herself leaning toward him involuntarily, as if an invisible string were pulling her. She could smell his familiar woodsy, clean scent, and it made her feel seventeen again, as if the past year had never happened. They were so close, his leg grazing hers, his eyes on her lips, his arm wrapping around her back. One more inch, and they’d be kissing. She could hear every one of her cells screaming for it, could feel the string tugging her closer and closer—
She yanked away, breathing hard. His hand dropped from her back, his forehead scrunching up. “What’s wrong?”
She stood up abruptly, shivering a little. “I just realized how cold I am,” she said, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “We should probably dry off a little, right? Before Armageddon becomes Flu-mageddon.” She let out a shaky laugh as she went over to what looked like a linen closet. She kept seeing Matt’s box of trophies in her head. If Josh knew about any of it, about him, about the photographer… kissing her would be the last thing he’d want to do. There were only so many times you could ruin something great. With Josh, once was enough.
“Are there towels in here?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from quaking. Without waiting for an answer, she yanked open the door and grabbed one. She’d just started to dry off when her phone dinged across the room.
Josh reached for her purse. “Do you want me to—?”
“No!” Emerson flung herself at him before he could get to her phone. She wrenched the purse out of his grip. “I—I can get it.”
Josh gave her a curious look, but she barely registered it. Because on her phone, the word she feared most was flashing at the top of her text messages. Blocked.
Her towel tumbled to the floor.
A is for Adultery, E is for Em! Be at Sunset Point in half an hour to capture a couple’s Kodak moment—or I’ll make sure the whole town knows about your scarlet letter.
Emerson staggered backward, the words dancing in her vision. Something wet ran down her cheek, rain or tears, she couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter what she did now, what choices she made. Her past had already marked her. And so had the darer.
“Is everything okay, Em?” The concern in Josh’s voice drew Emerson out of her stupor.
“I—yeah, it’s just my, uh, parents,” she stammered. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice. “They’re worried about the storm and want me to come home.” She glanced at the time on her phone. Twenty-eight minutes and counting. “Looks like we’re going to have to cut our hour a little short.” She gave him an apologetic shrug and started toward the door. But before she could leave, he grabbed her arm, stopping her.
“Hey, hold on. If I freaked you out, Em, I’m sorry. It was just so nice being around you again. Maybe I got carried away.”
She forced a smile. “It’s fine, really. Just my parents. I’m telling you, people in Echo Bay really don’t like their storms.” She pointed a finger at him. “Put it in your book.” Before he could protest any more, she slipped out into the rain.