Wishful Thinking (23 page)

“F
eel like going for a walk?”

Hazel stood behind Luke, watching as he traced dejected circles on the linen tablecloth with the end of a heavy silver fork.

“What?” He jumped and turned around. His brown eyes looked flat and sad, but brightened some when he saw her standing behind him. “Oh. I guess so,” he said, pushing back his chair and following her out of the tent.

They walked in silence across the lawn, catching pieces of friendly conversation as guests milled about, gathering around Rosanna’s art. Hazel was leading them back to the path and down to the beach, the same route they’d traveled on bonfire nights. She remembered back to the very first bonfire, when she’d thought they were related and left him speechless in the sand. She couldn’t imagine how he’d felt then, or how he felt now. Like nothing he did was ever good enough. Like it was his fault she couldn’t let him in.

They reached the bottom of the crooked staircase and
found a patch of sand to sit in, still warm from the fading sun. It was late evening and the sky was so clear that the moon was already bright, even while the sun clung to the horizon.

Hazel tucked the skirt of her dress beneath her thighs.

“That’s some dress,” Luke murmured without looking at her. “I wanted to tell you before, but I didn’t know if you were talking to me yet.”

Hazel looked down at the slippery black material of her skirt. No matter how beautiful or sophisticated it was, at that moment she would’ve given anything to have been wearing sweatpants instead. She was in a sweatpants kind of mood.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, shivering and burying her bare feet beneath the sand.

Luke peeled his arms free of his tan blazer and draped it over Hazel’s shoulders. “You looked a little chilly,” he said. He was left wearing only a thin, pale blue button-down, the sleeves wrinkled and pushed up to his elbows. There was a hint of a late summer’s burn peeking through at the bottom of his neck.

Hazel hugged the coat close under her chin and nodded. “Thanks,” she said. “I guess I was.”

Hazel stared out at the water. As usual, she didn’t know where to start. She knew Luke was upset and confused. He had every right to be. She wanted to fix it, just like Jaime had said. The only problem was that she didn’t know how.

“I’m so sorry, Hazel,” Luke said all at once, the words tumbling out like they’d been stuck together too long.

Hazel turned to him quickly. “You’re sorry?” she asked. “What do you have to be sorry about?”

Luke dragged his hand through the sand, raking lines beside his kneecaps. “I shouldn’t have laid all that on you
before,” he said softly. “It wasn’t fair. You have every right not to be ready, or not feel the same way I do.…”

“Luke, stop,” Hazel said, placing her hand over his in the sand, working her fingers into the spaces between his. “I do feel the same way. I always have. Ever since that first night, when we sat right here.”

“You mean the night you ran away like I was contagious?” Luke laughed.

Hazel smiled and took a steadying breath. “Yes,” she said. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I run away all the time. And I’m sorry I make everything so hard. But the truth is…”

She squeezed his hand and looked up into his eyes.

“The truth is I love you,” she said with a shrug. “That’s all.”

Luke held her gaze, the darkness in his eyes slowly lifting. He smiled and leaned in, finding her lips with his and kissing her, soft and sweet.

“Much better,” he said, leaning back into the sand and kicking off his brown loafers. He patted the sand beside him and gestured for her to lie back. She tucked herself inside the crook of his arm and looked up at the darkening sky.

“There’s only one, tiny problem,” he said, his chin resting on the top of her head.

“What’s that?” she asked, finding his hand again and wrapping it around her waist.

“The problem is…” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly between clenched teeth. “I finally get the girl, and I have to get on a boat and sail around the world.”

Hazel shot up, practically knocking Luke sideways and swiveling to face him head-on.

“You’re going?” she asked, a smile springing to her face.
“The Isabella?
He’s letting you go?”

Luke smiled and pulled her back to his side. “We leave in two weeks,” he said, unable to mask the excitement in his voice.

Hazel turned her head and kissed the warm, rough side of his cheek.

“What was that for?” he asked.

Hazel shrugged and looked back out at the clear, flat water. “For not giving up,” she said.

Luke crossed one ankle over the other and settled back deeper into the sand. “You know, I was kind of hoping you’d at least pretend to be mad.…”

Hazel nudged him with her elbow and smiled. “I can’t be mad,” she sighed. “Not when I’m leaving you first, to go to New York.”

Now it was Luke’s turn to look surprised.

“I knew it!” he exclaimed, squeezing her waist in his hands. “I knew you’d end up going. You were planning on leaving me for the big city all along.”

Hazel shook her head forcefully, a playful smile on her lips.

“You totally were,” he continued. “Just leave the little country boy in the dust. Moving on to better things.”

Hazel rested her head on Luke’s chest, listening to the steady thud of his heartbeat echoing deep against her ear. She felt the lump growing in her throat again and swallowed hard.

“Luke,” she said, pulling back to look him straight in the eyes. “I may be leaving, and you may be leaving,” she spoke slowly, her voice now strong and clear, “but there will never be anything better than this.”

She stared into his eyes, watching as they struggled
heroically to blink back the beginnings of tears. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I guess some people just meet in the wrong place, at the wrong time.”

His smile faded and his mouth started to twitch, his lips pursing as he fought to hold on to a steady, calming breath.

“Hey.” Hazel nudged him gently. “I have an idea. Everybody’s still up at the party, right?”

Luke cleared his throat and nodded, his eyes still foggy and dazed. “Yeah,” he tried shakily. “Yes, I mean. Why?”

Hazel shot him a sneaky smile and climbed to her feet. She took a quick peek at the ocean, which was calmer now, lapping at the shore in gentle, rolling waves, before glancing back at Luke, one eyebrow perched high, a challenge.

“You want to go in?” Luke asked uncertainly.

Hazel took a few more steps toward the water, feeling the cool night air tickling her legs under the hem of her dress. She reached down and tugged the skirt up, tossing Luke a quick, sly smile over her shoulder.

“Oh man,” Luke said, scrambling to his feet, unbuttoning his shirt and wriggling out of his tie.

Hazel laughed as she tossed her dress up and over her head, taking a few more deliberate steps toward the ocean. She could hear Luke rustling around behind her, kicking his clothes off and hurrying to meet her. But she didn’t wait for him to catch up. She looked out at the ocean, stretching back as if it might never end, as if she could swim out and just keep swimming. And suddenly she was six again, on the dock at the lake, but there was nobody behind her. Nobody pressuring her to jump. It was just Hazel and the sea, the endless sea. Scary, open, and full of possibilities.

All that was left to do was dive in.

After they swam, they slept.

Luke ran back for a sleeping bag and they spread it out at the bottom of the wooden steps. He crawled inside first, holding one side open for her, their damp limbs entwining as they huddled together to stay warm.

They stayed up late, talking, counting the stars, dreaming out loud, and planning the future.

He made her promise she’d write him letters. She said she would. She thought it would be hard to lie, but it didn’t feel like lying.

She said she’d never forget him, and she meant it.

She knew she never would.

Hazel woke up with the first bird’s song, her eyes blinking at the early morning sky. The cliffs were still covered in darkness, the sun just barely tinting the horizon pink and gray.

She had no idea what time it was, or how long they’d been sleeping. Luke was snoring gently beside her, his chestnut hair flecked with sand. His eyelids twitched in his sleep and Hazel thought he must be dreaming.

She didn’t want to wake him. Slowly, carefully, she crawled out of the sleeping bag. In the middle of the night, Luke had wrapped her again in his jacket. Not wanting to change back into her dress, she held the coat tight around her waist.

She found her dress and balled it up in her hands, catching her flip-flops between two fingers. After a long look up and
down the beach, the cliffs, the studio, and farm in the distance, she crouched down beside Luke’s head.

She kissed him gently on the forehead, soft and fast. “Good-bye, Luke,” she whispered into his hair. “I hope all of your dreams come true.”

His eyes twitched faster and he rustled in the sleeping bag. Hazel’s heart stalled. It looked for a moment like he might wake up.

But he burrowed deeper into the bag, pulling it tighter under his chin. His eyes stopped twitching and a peaceful calm settled over his face.

Hazel smiled and turned in the sand. Somewhere in the trees, the bird she’d woken up to had found a friend, and together they sang a sweet duet as she carefully climbed the stairs, leaving the beach, and Luke, behind her for good.

T
he plan was to sneak out while everyone was still asleep.

Downstairs on the kitchen table, there was a folded schedule of ferry departures, and Hazel decided she’d be on the first boat. That gave her just enough time to grab her bag and start walking. If she caught a ride on the road, even better, but if she had to walk, she’d make it if she left right away.

Hazel climbed the steps in the guesthouse, careful to skip the few that creaked the worst. Pale sunlight shone through the tiny bathroom windows as she quickly changed back into her dress. The only sounds were the whooshing of water in the pipes, the occasional call of a gull swooping past. It was amazing to think that in just a few hours the place would be buzzing as everybody else finished packing and started saying their good-byes.

Hazel knew she couldn’t stand to be there. To make more promises about staying in touch that she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep. Better just to disappear. She’d leave a note. They’d understand.

At the door to her room, Hazel stopped, one hand closing over the wooden knob. How could she leave without saying good-bye to Jaime? Her eyes stung and she squeezed them tight to keep from crying.

She didn’t have a choice. She knew what she had to do. She might as well do it fast.

Hazel pushed open the door without making a sound, spotting her bag in a heap at the end of her bed. She’d packed the day before. All it held inside of it were the three dresses—the original, still-torn dress that she’d never worn, the one that had brought her to the island, and the one that brought back Reid—her collection of photographs, and her camera. The bag felt flimsy as she quietly lifted it up and slung it over her shoulder, and she wondered for a moment if she should even bother bringing it at all.

It was time to go. Hazel took a few careful steps toward the door, pausing for one last look at Jaime. She was still asleep but had folded the blanket down from over her head. She was facing the wall, her eyes shut, her hair still wild and free.

As soon as Hazel reached the door, she heard a rustling on the bed.

“Hazel?” Jaime called out, just as the door was closing.

Hazel waited for a moment. It would probably be better just to leave. Pretend she was never there. Maybe Jaime would think she’d imagined it.

“Hazel, I can see your feet.”

Hazel looked down at the crack beneath the door and smiled. “Hey,” she whispered, poking just her head back inside. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Jaime pushed herself up onto her elbows and squinted at
Hazel, her features scrunched together and confused. “I was just having the strangest dream,” she mused, before shaking her head. “What time is it?”