Page 115

It’s unnerving to see this many people after not being around anyone except one person for months. It’s even more unsettling for me because I don’t recognize a single familiar face.

I wasn’t here long enough to matter to them.

Their disappointment is evident in their audible cries when they see my face instead of their star athlete. I’m the last to exit; there is no one behind me.

My heart races as I scan the crowd, the weight of the entire world’s eyes on me. I’m glad I made the decision to leave my journal on the island. No one needs to know my truth. I’ll keep my mouth shut forever to avoid reliving any of it.

As if on instinct, I reach for Micah, knowing he would protect me from the world that will want to consume me. I reach my other hand for Maison, also met with the icy emptiness that will now linger beside me forever.

The pain of losing them is crippling and shakes me to my core.

The crowd is filled with faces reflecting heartache and despair and families clinging to each other, their cries echoing through the air as they realize their son or daughter is never coming home. An entire generation was lost.

My parents push forward through the crowd, and my heart swells seeing my mom and dad together.

It’s been seven years since I’ve seen them together, and here they are, side by side, waiting for me. My heart bursts at the sight of them. I hadn’t realized how much I missed them. I let out a sob and run to them, ignoring everything else as I throw myself into their arms.

Cameras capture the moment.

My mom hugs me so hard and so frantically, as if she really can’t believe I am here. She runs her hands along my hair and face and down my arms. Her hair looks dull, her body is frail and thin, and she looks like she has aged at least ten years. “London. Oh my god, honey. You’re here. You’re really here.” I barely get in a sob because she’s hugging me so tight.

She pulls off and studies me—every bruise and cut. She feels the ribs poking out of my sweater. “What happened to you out there?” she whispers. My dad stands a few feet behind her, awkward as always. I hug him, too, remembering our last moment when he dropped me off at the airport the day I was heading to the hockey tournament to spy.

I was a spy and a fraud, and now I’m a murderer. And a victim. In so many ways, I’m a victim.

I stumble over my words. Where do I start? I’ll need therapy for the rest of my life to even begin to describe it.

Mom breaks down in sobs, and she and my father pull me in close as the media pushes through the barriers, shoving a microphone in my face. I have a moment of guilt, realizing that I was the sole focus of my mom and dad’s thoughts during my absence. Meanwhile, Micah and Maison consumed my mind the entire time.

I hug them harder because I did miss them. So incredibly much.

I can’t look at the others as the town fawns over them. We’ve all scattered into the crowd, and I’d be just as happy never to see their faces again. I’d give anything to forget it all—to forget everything and everyone I met while on this trip.

Even Micah. Because thinking of him hurts the most.

Eventually, the authorities pull us away, and they take me into a tent where an emergency doctor is waiting. They poke and prod me for a few minutes and, eventually, pull me onto a stretcher to run full tests on me at the hospital. There is red tape around the place, so at least the cameras stop flashing.

The paramedics take me through the back, and a woman catches my attention. I can’t take my eyes off her striking high cheekbones, olive skin, and fabulously rich-looking outfit. She catches me watching her, her eyes in a lethal focus on mine. Neither of us can look away, so I keep staring in complete fascination.

I remember her from the pictures when I was investigating her sons, but also because of her striking resemblance to Micah and Maison. Clearly, they got their looks from their mother.

The pain in her eyes mirrors mine, and I want to cry out to her to let her know Micah is alive but that he’s not ready to come home yet. I don’t because I’m not sure if he will ever be ready to come home and I can’t bring myself to speak.

For a moment, it’s as if she has the ability to delve into my mind, her piercing stare effortlessly seeing beyond my walls and into my dark, cloudy soul. It’s as if she can sense I’m desperately in love with them, and she watches me with a nurturing intuition while simultaneously assessing me to see if I’m worthy.

She leans into her husband’s shoulders and starts sobbing. I understand her pain, and tears sting my eyes as my mother grabs my hand, only now realizing that it’s shattered.

“London, honey,” she says as she wipes the hair from my eyes in a loving gesture. “Will you please say something?”

I haven’t uttered a single word since I arrived. I try to speak, but the words get caught in my throat. There is an overwhelming silence in my heart, and all I want is to escape New Ocean forever.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Micah

Before the Rescue

Istare down at the barrel of the flare gun I have pointed at my face. One flare left, and one chance to make that chopper come back. It would also be an easy way to end it, other than letting myself starve.