Free Shining Sea by Mimi Cross Page B

sand.
    “Anything?”
    “Wait, what am I promising?”
    “Too late. But don’t worry, I won’t ask you for anything you don’t want to give.” Logan’s light eyes glint in the sun, and I notice, not for the first time, that he has ridiculously long eyelashes. “And I’ll start with something easy, like a beach walk.”
    I’m off the hook for a reply—Dad arrives carrying two platters laden with lobster rolls. He puts the trays down on one of the coolers, and he and Logan shake hands.
    “Young Mr. Delaine. Pleasure. How are your folks?” I’d forgotten Dad knows the Delaines, but it makes sense since he knows everyone on the peninsula.
    “Doing well. They want you to come over and cook for them this weekend.” Dad’s face lights up, and Logan shoots me a wide grin that says, See? I’m totally charming.
    “This weekend ought to be fine.”
    “I’ll tell them.” Logan takes my hand. “I’d love to continue talking to you, Captain Rush, but I promised Arion I’d go for a walk with her.”
    I start to object, but Dad runs right over me. “Great idea. Going to be a fine sunset. I’m going inside myself, Classic Regatta’s on. I’ll leave you kids to your walk and your bonfire business.” He eyes our clasped hands, and leaves.
    “Oh, you promised me ,huh?” I laugh and yank my hand out of Logan’s.
    “What? A promise is a promise. I make it to you, you make it to me, same difference.”
    “Okay . . .” I look at him sideways, feeling like I’m missing something. “Guess a walk is a good deal. I mean, you could have asked me to write your Existentialism papers.”
    “That comes later.” We start walking, and he slips one hand beneath my hair, his warm fingertips finding the back of my neck. I shiver under his touch and pull away, landing a punch on his arm. Swiftly he catches my hand, murmurs, “Resistance is futile. You know that, right?”
    “I’ll keep it in mind.” I laugh, but my cheeks are hot. “Move over, will you?” I reclaim my hand as we change places, so he’s walking next to the water instead of me.
    Washed in shades of pink and streaked with purple, the sky curves above us like the inside of a seashell. After about fifteen minutes, we sit down on the sand at the end of the beach.
    A few weeks of friendship with Logan feels like so much longer. He’s always seemed familiar, and we’ve gotten tight, fast. But the closer we’ve gotten to the jetty separating Crescent Beach from Summers Cove, the quieter he’s become. This silent side of him is new to me.
    One afternoon, when we’d hung out on the front steps of the school, Lilah’s story had slipped from my lips. Not her story, really, no one knows that, but her condition . Logan listened without interruption, as if he knew it wasn’t easy for me to talk about her. It probably wasn’t easy to hear about her either, but he’d been there for me. I need to step up.
    “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.
    “Talk about what?”
    “The thing that makes us alike.”
    A beat goes by. Then he turns to me. The sinking sun shines directly into his light-gray eyes, illuminating them. “I do,” he says. “Because it’s you.” We gaze at each other for a long moment. “You know about my brother, right?”
    “Some. I’m sorry, Logan. So sorry.”
    He shakes his head. “Nick and me—” Grief and anger vie for control of his voice. Anger wins, and he begins to spit the words out. “We were best friends. We were, like, glued together when we were little. We had our own rooms, but at night, one of us would sneak—or get this, sleepwalk—into the other’s room. Sometimes I’d wake up on the floor in his room, or when I’d get up in the morning, he’d be at the end of my bed. Nothing could keep us apart.
    “I remember one night, I was about eight, and I got out of bed to get a drink. The room was dark and I stepped right on him. He was on the floor next to my bed. He didn’t even wake up. The next day,