[COMPLETE]
When Hanna Haddad embarks on what's supposed to be another uneventful summer as a lifeguard on Cape Cod, a trip to the past comes as an unnerving surprise. The discovery of her estranged mother's journal opens up the world of tragedy and...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I spent the next four days in bed—well, mostly in bed. My dad had forced me to go to the doctor yesterday, worried sick over how pale and sickly I looked. Unsurprisingly, she couldn't do much of anything but take my vitals and tell me I was recovering just fine.
Today was the first day I felt somewhat normal again, maybe because the thought of spending another day under my covers disgusted me. I still couldn't go to work, but I was finally going to leave my house to grab breakfast with Jesse.
I didn't think it mattered what I wore out today, but I found myself fussing over my outfit as I sifted through the clothes in my closet. All my pants fit looser than normal, hanging oddly over my concave stomach from days of living on tea and bread, so I reached for a flowy dress. It fit me like a garbage bag, so I went back to my favorite pair of jeans and a cornflower-blue blouse. After brushing out my bushy eyebrows and dragging some mascara through my eyelashes, I stepped outside to finally reintegrate myself into society.
We met up in the café I loved by the beach, always quiet enough for a good conversation. Jesse sat at the same table we'd sat at before, his eyes set on the door. When he saw me, he stood up with a smile visible from a mile away.
"Hey, I missed you," he breathed, pulling me into a hug. His fingers brushed my sides, feeling my ribs through my shirt, and then he held me at arm's-length. "Gosh, I feel like I'm holding half of you."
I laughed, pulling out of his grasp, and sat down on the empty chair. "It's been a rough few days. I think my appetite is sort of back today, at least."
"I'll buy you whatever you want. You don't have to get up."
I wanted to object to be courteous, but his offer was too tempting, sparing me the wooziness from standing. I told him I just wanted a blueberry muffin, needing something sweet after all this misery.
We didn't say anything at first as we ate, me picking at my muffin while he devoured his bagel. He looked so put-together and casual at the same time, in dark jeans and a white T-shirt that brought out his sun-kissed skin.
He caught me staring and smiled cheekily. "Am I more interesting than your breakfast?"
Heat engulfed my cheeks. "Maybe. How has work been without me?"
"Boring as usual," he said, picking up his cup of coffee. Before he took a sip, he added, "Unless you count the crazy catfight that went down by chair three yesterday."
"A catfight?" Of all weeks I had to be sick. "Did anybody get it on video?"
"Have you been checking the group chat?"
I'd turned off the notifications for it after it had turned into a mess of cheap gossip and memes. "No, I haven't. Shit, why did that have to happen when I was gone?"
"You didn't miss out on anything more than a couple old white ladies trying to rip each other's hair out," he chuckled, as if that wasn't a sight to behold. He leaned over the table slightly, folding his hands together. "I actually wanted to ask you something, if you don't mind."
