Page 52 of The Last Five Yards

“You never had to protect me from you,” she says softly. “I just wanted you to let me in.”

Reese watches the tear slip down Maren’s cheek, choking back one of her own. She turns and looks at Maren directly. When she speaks, her voice is quiet and steady.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “For all of it.”

Maren swallows hard. A small breeze lifts the hair across her face. Reese reaches up gently and brushes the strands behind her ear. A soft, knowing smile touches Maren’s lips. There is nothing else that needs to be said. They both know the truth now.

They sit in silence for a moment, eyes resting on each other.

The quiet between them shifts, warm and fragile. Reese’s hand lingers near Maren’s cheek a moment too long, her fingertips still tingling from brushing the hair away. Maren feels the warmth of it, the closeness, the pull she has tried for years to ignore.

Reese inhales softly, the sound barely there. She leans in by instinct, drawn forward the way she always has been. For a heartbeat, neither of them moves, caught in the thin space between memory and want.

Maren turns her head just slightly, enough to meet Reese’s eyes. They are close enough to feel each other’s breath, close enough that every old feeling rises to the surface, bright and undeniable.

Reese tilts in another inch, almost without meaning to.

Maren’s gaze drops to her mouth for the briefest second before she pulls in a steadying breath and retreats that small distance that changes everything.

“You are going back to North Carolina,” she says quietly.

Reese blinks, the moment breaking like a tide rolling back. “Yeah. I am.”

The space between them opens again. Not cold. Not closed. Just real.

The moment breaks gently. Reese relaxes and turns to face the water again, giving them both a little room. Maren looks at the water one last time, letting the steady pull of the waves settle something inside of her.

“We should get back,” Maren says quietly. “Before everyone wakes up and reports us missing.”

Reese nods. “Yeah, you are probably right.”

They rose from the driftwood log, brushing the sand from their legs. The walk back up the beach is slow. The sand is cold and uneven beneath their feet, and the sunrise paints everything in pale gold. Maren flips up the hood on her sweatshirt. Reese stays close without crowding, hands tucked into the front pocket of her hoodie.

The remains of the fire pit come into view. What was a lively, beautiful bonfire last night is now a ring of grey ash and a few faintly glowing embers. Bodies are scattered around it to varying degrees of unconsciousness.

Jules is the first to stir. She lifts her head up with clear suspicion, squinting at them like she is trying to solve a complicated math problem before coffee.

“Oh, good,” Jules rasps. “The wanderers have returned.”

Ava groans from under a mountain of blankets. “Why is anyone speaking?” she mumbles, pulling the fabric up over her head.

Reese snorts. “Good morning, Princess.”

“That remains to be seen,” Jules replies, sitting up slowly. “You two look weirdly awake. I do not trust it.”

Maren crouches down to start gathering the sleeping bags. “We just walked down to the water.”

“Uh-huh,” Jules says, narrowing her eyes. “Did you see the shark?”

“Ava flops an arm out of her blanket cocoon. “Jules, stop being feral at sunrise,” she mutters before going still again.

Reese laughs quietly, shaking her head. Maren tries not to smile a little too obviously.

They fold the sleeping bags together, shaking out the sand and tucking the tags so they do not flap in the wind. Reese holds the corner of one while Maren rolls it tightly, their hands brushing once in a way that neither of them acknowledges.

Once everything is gathered, they whisper soft goodbyes to Jules and Ava and turn to walk the short path toward the parking area. The morning is still mostly silent except for a lone car passing on the distant road. Gravel crunches under their shoes. Maren wraps one of the blankets around her torso like a shawl. Reese’s shoulders are hunched slightly against the cold. But she looks peaceful in a way Maren has not seen in years.

They reach Reese’s rental. She opens the trunk and sets her bag inside. Maren takes the blanket off of her back and hands it to her without thinking, and Reese accepts it like it is something delicate.