Page 62 of Holding On

Chapter Fifteen

Travis Russo

The afternoon is hard, mostly because I want to be with Maya. I haven’t heard from her all afternoon. She must be swamped with work her first day with Audrey. Usually, we text some, but she’s been silent all day. I’m just glad this begins her first week with Audrey. The Inn is packed with families and couples of all ages and from everywhere. There’s even a couple from Sweden. They’re out in the early morning as soon as the sun comes up, and they stay out until the last trail of evening. Anytime they can absorb some sun.

There are too many people milling about.

When Laurel confided in me last summer that having Finn here and all these guys around made her feel like she’d lost her sisters again, I agreed. It did feel like that, even more so for me, I think. But they are phenomenal men, and I know I’ve learned a lot the last year and a half just by watching them.

Between the swirl of travelers and the men in my sisters’ lives, there are a lot of people at The Inn at Echo Bay. I’ve always valued peace and privacy—two things I don’t think any of us got enough of growing up. And time to think. It’s why I love winter. Most people here aren’t into winter sports and complain about the season the entire time.

I enjoy it. Not so much for the skiing and snowshoeing or ice-skating—all three of which I like doing—but for the solitude. I like the short days and long nights. I especially like it when The Inn is closed. Unfortunately, the last two winters, school has been in session, and so I’m only up for extended periods during the holidays—another time The Inn logs a lot of reservations.

I decide to make my own peace. Salty needs to be worked, and I can lead him down the beach and away from the tourists.

When I snap the lead to his halter, Salty nickers and stomps his foot, and his reproach is tangible. This is good. He wants to be lead. He wants to work.

“Okay, guy,” I say, opening the gate and leading him down to the beach. This time, he’s not skittish about walking between the two buildings, and he’s far more interested in what’s in my pocket. I laugh when his wide forehead butts my thigh.

I reward him with some apple.

As early evening comes, the air cools, and the clouds are high and thick. I zip up my hoodie after putting the lead between my knees for a moment.

The last time I walked this stretch was just a few nights ago with Maya. As the wind kicks up, I stroke Salty’s mane and he nickers.

“I miss her too, boy. But you and me? We’re different. I got this thing called wheels.”

We hit the half mile mark by the entrance to the caves, but it’s nearly high tide and impossible to stay on the beach. Waves reach all the way to the foot of the low hills. There’s a small foot trail to the left. It’s precarious because it’ll take us over near Dyson’s cliffs, but Salty hasn’t spooked at all on any of our walks.

I trust him.

The sun is low enough and not quite ready to set. The view from up the hill will be beautiful. It’s a good five-minute hike up to the top of the knobby hill.

Just as we crest, my phone vibrates in my pocket, alerting that I have coverage again. Salty blows his hot breath against my hand, and I stroke his neck and look out at the sea. From here, we can see all the way into Rockland, a wide stretch of ocean with no small islands in between—rare in Maine, for sure.

The sky begins to ignite with color. Whitecaps turn orange. I take in a deep breath and see a boat below us. It’s a Marlin—a small, speedy, and expensive yacht—and it takes me a second to realize who it is. All this happens as I retrieve my phone for messages.

There are texts from Finn, Nic, Carlson, and Audrey. Suddenly, all my senses are on alert.

Finn: Maya’s missing

Nic: Maya’s phone is MIA

Carlson: Have u heard from Maya?

Audrey: Secretary said Maya left w/Barr

There are more, but I don’t need more.

My heart is pounding and my brain is firing as Ifocus on what’s in front of me right now: Oliver Barr slowly backing his craft away from the mouth of the caves and turning his boat around. My heart leaps to the back of my throat. Maya is nowhere on the craft.

Nowhere.

I crouch down and move Salty back from the edge.

Pieces fit together like a puzzle.

Shit.