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“Oh, Connor . . .”

I was too far gone to hear the epiphany in her voice, too destroyed to explain.

“You were never mine . . .”

And the sound I made then—I can still hear it. My dad had needed to shoot a jackass once because the poor thing had broken his leg, and the sound that animal had made, in pain and helpless—
that
was the sound that came from my throat.

There was no dignity in it, no beauty—nothing as clean as a sob.

I couldn’t control my sounds, or my mind or my words.

Vinnie!

And in my head, I was yelling to stop, to stop, because maybe Vinnie’s sister-in-law would figure it out, and maybe the whole world would know but . . .

Vinnie! Oh, God, Vinnie! Our lives are gone. You’re not just dead, but our lives are annihilated. It’s like it didn’t happen at all!

But Vinnie didn’t answer. He was gone. All of our stuff was gone. Our lives were gone. It was like it hadn’t happened at all.

I’m not sure how long I sat there, making donkey noises, but Noah found me as the breeze got chilly, and I’d started to shiver from sitting in the damp sand. Christine was sitting next to me by that time, resting her chin on her hands and staring at me, just staring at me, which was weird, right? Because I’d been sobbing for an hour.

You think she would have just left me alone.

Noah’s feet barely kicked any sand as he approached, and I recognized them. Big, dark-skinned feet, with that vulnerable pink underside, padding across the beach with an easy grace.

I gazed up into the sun and squinted against the salt water and the sand and the wind and the sun.

“Noah?”

He sank down next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Con? Man, we’ve been calling you.”

I hadn’t heard my iPhone going off in the running sleeve.

“Noah, they . . . they burnt our stuff.”

“Oh . . .” Noah stared at the fire pit and took in the devastation. “Oh, oh fucking Jesus. Oh, Connor . . . I’m so sorry.”

“It’s gone,” I said softly, too destroyed for more than that. “All gone. Ten years, it never was.”

“Oh . . . oh no . . .” He looked up and saw Christine, a pretty woman, brown hair in a ponytail, freckles across her plain Midwestern face. “You . . . This was fucking
necessary
?”

She wiped her hand across her eyes. “We didn’t know.” Her voice sounded rustier than it had when I’d first come down the beach. “My God, do you think we’d . . . Nobody’s that fucking cruel!”

I melted against Noah and rocked back and forth, and I was no longer making that horrible sound—but I hadn’t stopped crying either.

“Connor didn’t know that,” Noah argued, and there were tears in his voice.

I’m sorry, Noah. Didn’t mean to hurt you too.

“We didn’t know about Connor!” she yelled. “We didn’t know! Oh my God, this whole time, his mom and his brothers and sisters, all of them crying because he’d never been in love—do you get that? They thought his whole life, he’d never fallen in love, and it made it all just . . . just
worse
. How could they let him go if he’d never been happy?”

“We were happy!” I sobbed. Oh, we had been. There’d been rough road, but God, I’d still been down for the ride.

“Yeah,” she cried back, wiping her face on her sleeve. “I get that. I can see that.
Why didn’t he tell us
?”

And I had no answer for her. I was out of words. I reached back into the wet ashes and pulled out that piece of steak plate and held it to my chest. I remembered that Precious Moments figurine, two boys, one with dark hair and pale skin, one with blond hair and blue eyes, standing together at the school bus stop. Me and Vinnie, from the first moment of our Hollywood education, we’d been together.

I couldn’t stick my hands in there to find it, shattered. I just couldn’t. I was not that brave.

I don’t know how long it took for Noah to get my attention, to stand me up and make me drop the plate and herd me back toward the house.

I remember Christine running to catch up with us as he was about to shoo me up the stairs, though. “Connor!”

I turned.

“Connor—Vinnie’s got a file on his computer that we couldn’t open. It’s password protected. And his financial stuff was all in the open. Do you know what the password was?”

“Mazynsky,” I answered dully. “M-a-z-y-n-s-k-y.”

“Oh God,” Noah almost moaned. “Connor, do you know what you just—”

“I’ve got nothing left,” I mumbled. “No more two of me. No more pieces. Connor’s all shattered now, no more pieces. Only sand.”

And Noah didn’t ask me any more questions. He just chivvied me up the stairs and into the house, and probably into the shower and to dinner and bed.

He must have. I woke up next to him in the morning, and he got me ready for the flight home.

As we walked out of the beach house, I turned around and looked back into it. It was what it had always been—light, and airy, and beautiful.

Maybe, if I sold it, I could hire a company to pack it up for me.

I’d never have to see it again.

I didn’t remember much about the airport and the flight, or even the trip home. Noah’s father picked us up in the town car, and he and Noah talked about the trip while I zoned out, eyes staring blankly at the now-familiar topography.

The sky was gray, and I found myself lost in the drizzle, disintegrating, not sand but mist.

We arrived at the house, and I didn’t argue about the luggage, I just wandered inside, touching things randomly, trying to ground myself.

Noah and I had bought the throw, and the rug. We’d bought the figurine of the dog, and the little wooden statue of the otter. I stroked each of these things, and wondered if they’d be on the island. I should see. I should see if the things with Noah and me were on the island.

The things with Vinnie and me were probably on the island.

I should go look.

I stepped out to the back patio and looked for the little gate that led to the water’s edge.

Vinnie, do you want me to come visit?

No. Con, no. That kid in there, he wants you home.

I’ll come back.

You can’t come back from this, Con. You can’t. Go back inside.

I just want to see how cold the water is. That’s not such a bad thing, right?

It’s a very bad thing, Con. Don’t—

I hadn’t really seen this stretch of the water; it was
right
in front of the raised backyard. Lots of rocks in there—I could see some of them protruding right where the water got really dark.

I’ll have to swim the whole thing. Vinnie, I don’t know if I can do that. Those rocks look sort of dangerous.

CON, DON’T COME.

It’s what—half a mile out there? How many yards is that? If most people can swim 500 meters in sixty-five degree water, how fast will the train be going when it gets to Brooklyn?

I laughed softly to myself. That was a good one. Fifty-eight degrees? Fifty-five? Seriously—how cold could it be?

I took off my shoes and socks and stuck my toe in.

And barely refrained from an unmanly shriek. Oh holy God—holy God, that was cold.

I should probably take my clothes off. I’d want something sort of dry to put on when I got back.

I folded my jeans, sweatshirt, and T-shirt neatly, and wrapped them in a little bundle with my cross-trainers and socks. Standing on my tiptoes, I shoved them between the bars on the fence of my patio, making sure they were wedged there so I could get them quickly. I left my boxers on—I figured I could take them off and go commando when I dressed, but I knew I’d be cold when I got out of the water.

I was cold
now
, actually, and that was just from the drizzle. Trying not to hurry, clenching my teeth to keep from chattering, I stepped into the water and bit back on the scream I knew was coming.

And another step. And another, and another. Oh fuck—the rocks were many and sharp and painful. I was starting to wish I’d gone back inside for my flip-flops when I took another step and slipped into a hole, pushing up instinctively as the water hit my armpits.

“
Ooh
!” I gasped, my chest hurting. “
Fuck
, that’s fucking
cold
!”

Vinnie, maybe this is not such a good idea.

No, it’s a great idea. Take another step.

Oh, well if he was going to be on my side. I took another step and winced. There was a huge boulder to my left, and I stubbed my toe on it. Oh, hey, that thing was like three feet from the surface—damn. My teeth chattered uncontrollably, and I wondered if maybe I should climb that rock and see if I could move well enough to swim even. My arms and legs hurt, and I wasn’t moving fast enough. If I was going to do this, I should just jump in, but it was starting to filter in that once I took the plunge and started to make my leaden limbs move, I wasn’t going to be able to get back.

“
Con
!”

Noah’s voice crackled in terror, and I honestly wondered if some sort of sea creature I didn’t know about was behind me. I startled and bonked my knee on the fucking rock.

“Ow! Noah! You scared me!”

“Connor? Baby? What in the fuck are you doing?”

“Freezing,” I mumbled. Suddenly I was really tired. Maybe I should try this swim tomorrow. “I’m sorry. I thought I’d try to go to the island. You know, to visit Vinnie.”

Noah was dancing on the shoreline, his face twisted in anguish, but when he heard that, he stopped.

“You want to visit Vinnie?” he asked, his voice breaking.

“Well, maybe not now—”

“You want to visit
Vinnie
!”

“I just . . . you know. Want to tell him good-bye—”

“He wants to visit Vinnie,” Noah muttered, apparently to himself. And then he started stripping off his shirt.

“Noah, you don’t want to do that—it’s cold out here.”

“You think? You fucking think? Did you hear that, Noah? He thinks it’s cold out there.” Noah stopped muttering to himself and snarled at me, throwing his shirt over his shoulder and going for his pants. “If it’s too cold out there, asshole, get your fucking nuts back on shore.”

It was too cold out here for him. His best friend had died in these waters—I didn’t want to make him swim them.

“Noah, baby, you don’t want to swim here—it’s dark, and it’s freezing . . . you don’t want to visit Vinnie.”

Oh God—everything fucking hurt. My joints, my chest, my muscles and bones. I really should come ashore and try this another day.

“No!” Noah yelled, down to his boxers. “I think this is a
great
idea! I think we need to visit Vinnie!”

He took a running step into the water and howled, and a part of me woke up. “Noah, honey, it’s too cold. You’ll . . . hypothermia . . .” I could barely talk. “Maybe you shouldn’t do this with me—”

“No! You want to visit him, then
I
want to visit him. I’m—
Augh
! This is fucking
cold
! Jesus, Connor, how did you get out that far?”

“I slipped,” I told him through a jaw so tight my neck and shoulders were burning with the tension. “Noah, you don’t want to visit him—he’s
dead
!”

“You think!” Noah screamed, his voice hysterical. He was crying. His eyes were red and his face was wet and twisted and he was
crying
. “You think he’s dead? But that’s where you want to go, Connor, so I’ll follow you there. I’ll follow you across the fucking sound and to that fucking island, and you and me, we’ll be together and we can
visit Vinnie
!”

Oh God. Oh God—not Noah. Not
Noah
. “Noah, you’ll die,” I said, because I could barely move. “You can’t come— Don’t come out here . . .” My voice was losing volume. I had no breath to power it.

“Connor,” Noah sobbed, taking another stumbling, painful step toward me. “So will you.”

Oh, look at him—so beautiful, and so hurt. I didn’t want to leave him. And he couldn’t come with me when I did this.

“I don’t want you to die,” I said. “Noah, I
love
you. You have to live. You
have
to.”