Page 46 of P.S. I'm Still Yours
What kind of daughter would I be if I told her to turn down Evie’s offer? Especially knowing how much money she’s going to save that way?
Her entire life has revolved around me since we lost Gray. It’s like after he died, I became the only thing she stayed alive for. The only thing keeping her going.
I didn’t mind it. Back then, I needed her just as much as she needed me, but the difference is… after years of grieving, I managed to go back to the person I used to be.
She didn’t.
She’s been overcompensating for years now. She moved miles away from her hometown and friends, just so that she could get a place near my school.
You’d think she’d want to enjoy her freedom now that she doesn’t have a store to run and two kids to take care of, but it’s like all she does is wait for me to come back for winter and summer breaks.
We reach Golden Cove two and a half hours later. There’s something surreal about being here and driving around the gated community where I spent so much of my childhood.
It forces me to remember the girl I was. Little Hadley, crushing on a boy she’d known since she was born, completely clueless as to how easily he would abandon her.
If you’d told me I’d come back to this place a month ago, I would’ve thought you were on something.
A strong something.
The more miles we cover, the harder it is to suppress the flashbacks rolling in.
We pass the park where Gray, Kane, Jamie, Vince, Cal, and I used to play. Our moms would have to come drag us home for dinner, and we’d still find ourselves right back here as soon as we were done.
The private portion of the beach vastly differs from the rest of the coast. Mainly because it’s clean and not littered with trash, unlike the shore in Hillford, the nearest town.
I wonder if Jamie and her brother still live in Hillford. We completely lost touch after Mom, Gray, and I stopped coming to the beach house.
“Here we are,” Mom announces as she pulls up into the driveway.
I blink a few times, disappointment crashing into me. The beach house looks so different I almost ask my mom if we’re in the right place.
They painted the windows and front doors black, for one. I’m guessing the previous owners wanted to give the house a modern feel, and it might’ve worked if it weren’t for the gray bricks they added to the façade.
They went overboard with the dark shades, making it feel uninviting. Not to mention it sticks out like a store thumb, being the only dark house in a neighborhood full of coastal-colored mansions.
Mom seems to share my train of thoughts because she says, “Don’t worry. Evie’s renovating the whole thing at the end of the summer.”
I only realize my fists are wrapped into tight balls, my nails digging into my palms, when she kills the engine.
Why am I so nervous?
I glance around the driveway and spot another car parked by the garage. It’s a white Tesla, with lilac tire rims and a bumper sticker that says, Please let me merge before I start crying.
It draws a smile out of me.
If that isn’t the most Evie thing I’ve ever seen.
“Good. Evie’s already here,” Mom says before climbing out of the car.
I unbuckle my seat belt and swing the door open. The warm summer breeze sweeps over my face as soon as I get out of the car, and I exhale a sharp breath.
Mom and I are standing on the porch with our luggage in no time. Nausea knots my stomach when she rings the doorbell.
Footsteps can be heard on the inside, and I stiffen up, dreading the person I’m going to see when the door opens.
“You made it.” My nerves settle the second I hear Evie’s voice.
The joy surging in my chest quickly trumps my anxiety. I haven’t seen my godmother since Gray’s funeral my junior year of high school.