Page 116 of The Wild Beneath

“We could go together.” There’s tenderness in his voice. “Greg has the Hale Timber barge here at port this morning anyway.”

“You know the barge schedule?” The cheddar crumbles under the knife, and she tries to scoop the shavings onto the bread.

“It’s headed back this afternoon.”

It dawns on her. “You’re already involved.”

Evan traces the rim of his coffee cup with his thumb and says nothing.

The floor feels like it’s giving way under her feet. “How could you?”

“I’m doing this forus.”

“You thought we would just leave everything here?” She grabs for the countertop to steady herself. “Without even talking about it?”

He sets his coffee aside. “Do you remember when your mom and dad let you sailAmphitriteon your own for the first time?”

Of course she remembers. She was ten years old, and Evan was there beside her. She used her body weight to tighten the winches, and she wasn’t tall enough to see over the dodger. She navigated by feeling her way over roaring swells. Laughter. Annie looks down, now, at her clean, square fingernails. Her muscles have dwindled. Her clothes are clean and tucked. She wonders if she can find what she left behind; if she has any wildness left in her.

“Why would you bring that up right now?”

“I was just remembering...” The trace of a smile appears on his face. “You were ecstatic.”

They stand on opposite sides of the kitchen island, staring at each other.

“I have to go back,” she says. “By myself.”

“And then what?” His voice is sharper. “You’re hoping you’ll find him?”

“I don’t know what I’m hoping.” She has to be honest. “It feels unfinished. I don’t think he’s dead.”

Evan strides over to the backpack and starts removing the clothes from it. “I won’t let you.”

“This is about me, Evan.” She grabs the backpack from him and points to her chest. “Me taking care of myself. I can’t keep going like this.”

“Like how?”

“On autopilot.”

He sits down on a kitchen stool, dropping his entire weight. “You’re ready to throw all of this away? After everything we’ve built here? Me?”

“I’m not throwing you away!” she cries.

“You’re where I belong.You’remy place.”

Annie’s voice softens. “Something isn’t right with me, Evan.”

“I was always afraid if I told you about that night you’d leave.”

“You’re not hearing me.” She pulls another stool closer and sits beside him, grabs his hands—­as if touching him could make him understand.

He does not look at her. “Then explain it again.”

“Henry always said you can fix anything, as long as you know where it’s broken.”

“So?”

“I need to figure out what’s broken. Only I can do that.”