Ivey Pierce is an explorer, and thanks to her career as a wildlife biologist, she does not stay stationary for long. But when her parents die in a terrible accident, and her childhood home is left vacant for two years, she returns to the tattered me...
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I CLUNG TO Weston like an enormous wave would crash onto the shore and rip him from me, swallowing him whole. My tears stained his shirt while anger built inside me, then fizzled out in relief that he was safe and here.
"You look beautiful, Ivey," he whispered, and my chest ached. "I'm sorry for not being here sooner. I heard your speech, though, and you did amazing."
His comment caught me by surprise, and I looked up. Almost instantly, his thumb brushed my tears away. "You heard it? How?"
"I was in the parking lot."
"How long?"
"Uh—" A fleeting smile appeared before he averted his eyes toward the ocean. "I sat in my car for a while and couldn't bring myself to join the party."
I pulled away, facing him. "Wes..."
"It's okay. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."
Reaching out, I touched his face. He closed his eyes and leaned into my hand. Tears welled in my eyes for the millionth time tonight while I stared at him. All the words I wanted to say clawed their way up my throat.
"I have to leave, Weston." My voice was barely audible.
His eyes open. "What do you mean?"
"I'm going back to Washington."
He paused. "When?"
"Wednesday."
I waited for him to say something, but he never did.
His face was stoic, and I couldn't tell how he felt. The cheering from the party echoed in the distance as Nora announced the amount of money raised for the charity.
The lump in the back of my throat ached each time I swallowed.
He pushed off the ground, brushed the sand off his dress pants, and extended his hand. My forehead wrinkled, and I hesitantly took it; he didn't let go when I was on my feet. Instead, he laced our fingers together and said, "Come on."
Peering over my shoulder, I glanced at my parent's memorial one last time, realizing that would be the last time I would see it for a while. A hollow feeling tried wedging inside me, but I wouldn't let it.
While Weston started his car, I collected my phone and purse from mine and slid into his passenger seat without caring that I was leaving my car behind.
Not a single word was spoken during our drive home.
He had yet to acknowledge the bomb I dropped on the beach about leaving, though his silence told me all I needed to know—he was just as confused. We knew we couldn't move on with life pretending nothing was happening between us, but finding a solution was even more complicated.
