Page 99 of A Little Luck

CHAPTER22

ADAM

Tybee Island is a barrier island on the north Georgia coast about thirty minutes outside of Savannah. It takes me less than two hours to drive from Eureka to where my ex-best friend was laid to rest in his family’s plot almost a decade ago.

My jaw grinds the entire drive, and I do my best not to break all land-speed records. I threw my coat in the trunk of my Jetta and changed into a tee when I left the distillery, and now, with the windows down, the briny air pushes against my cheeks, through my hair, drying my eyes.

But it does nothing to cool the anger blazing in my veins. It’s like a volcano went off, and I’m burning from the inside out.

When I saw the pictures, and she confirmed what it was, everything crashed down on my head. It was all I could do to hold her, try to comfort her, do my best to ensure she could be as strong as she’s always been.

I had to get out of there. I had to get a handle on my feelings, and I had to make this drive.

Every time I close my eyes, I see her wounded body, and I imagine the abuse she suffered right there, with me so close, and I never even knew. God, was I that fucked-up?

All I lived for in those days was escape. I dropped out of college after only two years and did nothing but surf with Rex and Max and the rest of the guys.

We all took drugs, we ran up and down the coastline, we joined the circuit, but we dropped out when they left for Australia or South America or Hawaii.

I didn’t care about traveling. I didn’t care about anything. I only wanted to kill the pain of losing Pop then losing Dad… And I was in love with her.

I’d stopped pretending it wasn’t what it was. I was fucking in love with my best friend’s girl. So I did what you do in that situation—I did everything else.

I never dreamed in a million years he would’ve hurt her.

If I’d known…

I’m pretty familiar with the island, so it only takes a few minutes to find a place to stay. The annual Pirate Fest that happens every October has ended, and the off-season has officially begun.

I park the car and dump my things in the small motel room before walking the few blocks to the shore. The tide is out, and the wet brown sand stretches for what looks like miles. It’s not. When the tide changes, it all comes back in a rush.

Just like the fucking past.

I walk in the direction of Mid Beach, striding hard to get the burn out. I know where I’m headed, and I can either walk on the street or I can walk on the shore. I opt for the shore, and after about a mile, I turn and start walking inland.

I cross block after block, getting closer to the tall pine trees, leaving the sand and waves behind me.

The closer I get, I see one of those signs out front, and I wonder who came up with the concept of church signs. This one reads,Is what you’re living for worth dying for?

I don’t even hesitate. Yes.

Yes…

Memory takes me back to that strip of highway nine years ago, the night Aiden stopped me, the night he busted my ass, and I hated him so much for it.

He gave me an ultimatum, and I could’ve fought him. His case was thin, and he had no evidence. But I was broken. I’d just held newborn Ryan in my arms, and he was so fucking perfect. He was so beautiful.

She was so beautiful.

And she told me to leave.

My brother was right, and I wanted to change for them. I wanted to deserve them.

Continuing past the sign, I go to the back of the church, past another larger building that is either a gym or a fellowship hall or both. I’ve only been here once before, but I know where to go.

A black wrought-iron gate opens to a field where the pine trees have been strategically cleared and benches placed beneath them to create a pastoral landscape.

It’s not a large cemetery. Headstones are situated in neat rows, and cement blocks are on top of the plots to hold them down. I follow two rows and take a right to a lone square in the middle of a space designed for more.