Over the past couple of weeks, I've learned that more people pass through Seabrook Island than I thought. It could never be somewhere tourists would travel miles to reach. The final destination. But it's a beachside town that they pass through. Somewhere they can take a break from driving. Stretch their legs. Lounge on the beach in the hours they can spare.

It's starting to feel like that to me too.

A break from everything. Somewhere I can get away for a while. But eventually, I'll leave. Pack my bags and go back to Phoenix. Because this little town is too small for the things I want to do. The dreams I want to accomplish. And although I know that in the grand scheme of things this is just a pit stop on my journey, I've come to appreciate it.

Waking up before sunrise and dragging my feet to the beach, struggling to keep my eyes open as the sun casts its warm glow over me. Standing on the pier, looking out into the sea, forgetting all my worries. Easing the pain of my scars for a moment. Lounging on the sofa with my dad, helping him make mac and cheese without burning it, and reminiscing on my childhood. And Tyler. I've come to appreciate Tyler. He has grown to be as important to me as sitting on the beach after work and dipping my toes in the sea.

He was right the other night. When he admitted he was glad I came. Because if I didn't, I would have never met him on the pier that first day. Bumped into him on the beach after that. Found a true friend who helps me forget my scars.

I'd probably still be in bed back in Phoenix, wishing that the angels who took my mother would take me too.

"That's supposed to be." Olivia slides the string of pearls off the hook and places it on another, "there, see?"

My cheeks heat and I drop my gaze to the floor. The dark, chocolate brown locks I didn't have time to do anything with this morning fall into my face. I tuck them behind my ears.

"Sorry it's taking me so long to, you know," I pause, placing another pearl necklace on the right hook. "Get this."

"It's fine, honestly. You're better than some of the other people I've had working for me."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, for sure. There was this one guy who would shrug when a customer asked him a question. Like no talking, no nothing. Just shrug." She laughs.

"Okay, yeah, I'd say I'm definitely better than him then."

I was right about Olivia when I said she couldn't be any older than twenty-five. When I first met her, I thought she just had a mature voice. I'm a whole head taller than her. But I later learned that she's twenty-four. Her honey blonde hair is cut into a bob and a pair of wide, clear-framed glasses sit on her nose. Her petite frame is always covered with a sweater. You don't need to know her to see that the small-town life was made for her.

She grabs a box of magnets and starts unloading them onto the shelf next to me. "You'll have less customers to worry about when it gets to the quieter months. It's always busier during summer. I swear, around October time my mom's my only customer," she says with an embarrassed chuckle. "She's always been my biggest fan. You should see all of these she's got on her refrigerator at home." She holds up one of the magnets, "one for every time she comes in."

I give her a tight smile and focus on stocking the necklaces.

Mothers have become a touchy topic for me ever since that day. Seeing them eating ice cream with their kids on the beach or even hearing someone just talking about their mother brings a wave of emotions that crash into me like a tidal wave. Pain. Regret. Longing. Sometimes it's so strong I have to lift my hood over my head to hide my tears. I'll never get that. Not anymore. My mom was my biggest fan. I don't think I could have ever done anything wrong in her eyes. Sometimes I find myself thinking about what she would think of how everything has turned out. Would she agree with my dad moving me thousands of miles away from home? Would she be disappointed that he hid away all the family pictures? Or would she understand? And then I realize that I'll never know the answer to all the questions I want to ask her. Need to ask her. I have to figure it out on my own.

"Who'd you come here with then?" Olivia pulls down her sweater when she reaches up to push the magnets to the back of the shelf. "Your parents?"

I chew my lip. "Just my dad."

"And your mom? Didn't she fancy moving to this rainy little town the locals like to call." She gestures to the sign above her head, "the heart of South Carolina?"

"Uh, no. She- she's not around anymore."

I place my hands on either side of the box and close my eyes, pulling in a shaky breath. The last thing I need is to be crying in front of my new boss. I swallow the lump already forming in my throat.

Olivia's silent for a second. Weighing her words. "That must be hard," she settles on.

"Yeah, it is."

"I think she'd be happy though. That you're still living your life. A close friend of mine lost a relative a couple years ago and it was hard watching her struggle to get out of bed all those days. She missed out on a lot those months she was grieving." She looks lost in thought. When she realizes what she's said she shakes her head and pushes her glasses up her nose. I've noticed she does that when she feels awkward. "Sorry, that probably didn't make you feel any better."

"Yeah- no, I think you're right," I say with a grateful smile. She seems relieved.

I hope what Olivia said is true. I hope she's happy I'm still managing to have some sort of normalcy in my life. She was a woman who always saw the best in things. Even in the worst situations. I think she'd want me to do the same too.