Page 37 of Tell It To The Waves

Cocking my head, “What’s that?”

Molly lets out a forced laugh. “You’ll never believe who accidentally liked my Instagram post and then unliked it, letting it notify me. August Graft!” she bellows out.

My stomach drops.

“I had to send her a little message, letting her know we know.” Molly leans over and kisses my cheek, pulling back. “You need to shave.” She purses her lips.

I don’t say anything, because I’m not even sure how to respond about August. And I can’t say the wrong thing, so I ignore it. “I’ll shave tonight, Honey,” I coo to her before she throws me a smile and stands up.

“Don’t stay too long; dinner will be ready soon.”

I hear her footsteps grow quieter; with her gone, I’m able to process what she said. I know August didn’t mean to let Molly know she was spying. So, I chuckle knowing how mortified August was. But I want to know what Molly told August; I can’t ask, though. I can’t have Molly thinking further into it.

Without thinking, I open my Instagram app, searching for Baylee’s. Clicking on it. She’s posted a few pictures of her and August. Clicking on the first one, it was posted last night. A plate of cookies Bay is holding up; they both have huge smiles.

I want to zoom in on August, but don’t dare. She looks so good. Her body is mature now, and she carries weight in all the best places. Her smile reaches her honey brown eyes, showing me she is truly happy in that brief moment. I try to get more clues about her from the picture, but it's just a bare wall with a beige sofa, not hinting at anything to do with August.

My mind flashes to that night eight years ago. I felt the end coming. Everything in my body knew she was pulling away. Thatlast year was tough, but I stuck it out because I truly loved her; she was going to be my wife. Grief wrecked her, and it’s not her fault, but fuck, I wish she would've asked for help instead of running from her problems.

Those first few weeks of summer were hard; I felt like I was forcing her to do everything. From hanging out with our friends, to spending time together, and to having sex, which I had to stop. She was just doing it to do it. And I couldn't have that. My conscience couldn’t.

That night on the beach felt so off. Everything was going wrong. She was drinking way too much, and so was I. I don’t know if I should have ever followed her that night. Maybe if I didn’t, everything would have been different, but I did.

Her words broke me piece by piece. Her voice was so mean, and I didn’t see one ounce of my August in her eyes. Her throwing the engagement ring at me signified everything on that summer night.

I did the only thing I could think of doing; if she broke my heart, I wanted to break hers. And Molly was the first girl I had seen at the bonfire. Kissing her held nothing for me; it was just my way of payback. I wanted August to see, so she could break like I did. And she broke. Molly was just a move in my game of hurt.

Watching August disappear under the waves is something I’ll never forget. I was okay to die with her if I had to, but I would not let her go out alone.

When she opened her eyes while lying on the sand, pure fear filled them. I knew I couldn’t make her stay in Driftwood, and I hoped by letting her go so easily, she’d come back home, but weeks turned into months, and months turned into years. And she never returned. Nor did the Bohdi I was before that night.

I never trusted after that night and still don’t.

Forcing myself up, I have to hype myself to just make it into the Williams’ home.

They're already sitting at the table when I come in. Everyone turns and looks at me, like I caught them speaking of me.

Mrs. Williams has her leg propped up on an extra chair. The woman isn’t ugly, but her soul is. There isn’t one good thing I can say about her. And that’s sad.

The same thing I can say about Mr. Williams. His money lets him get out of whatever he wants. He uses it in ways one shouldn’t. He blackmails and holds people in a corner until they crack.

And their daughter is a culmination of both.

Sitting down next to Molly, I immediately grab the scotch that’s waiting in front of me, taking a bigger sip than is appropriate, in their eyes.

Clearing my throat, I smile at all three of them.

“Glad you finally came in, Bo. We’ve just been talking about the plans for our next business.” His smile is way too wide.

“That’s great. What are you thinking?” I ask as I lift my eyebrows, like I care, but not one part of me does.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Molly sit up straighter, excitement wafting from her.

Picking my glass back up, I take a sip.

“Driftwoods first spa. And we found the perfect spot for it. Quaint and full of options. August Cove will be the best place for it,” he tells me, his eyes searching for any indicator of a reaction.

I cough, not able to catch my breath; I force a sip of water. My throat is burning, and my eyes scan all three of them. I don’t know what to say.