Tyler's POV

All I can think about is the disbelief in her voice when I snapped at her. It replays over and over again in my head like a broken record, a constant reminder of how close I came to ruining things. All I see in the darkness are her wide eyes and parted lips, staring back at me with so much confusion. I wanted to- no, needed to- reach out to her, pull her into my arms and show her how sorry I was.

But I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to hold her when she looked at me as if I was a stranger. There was no recognition in her eyes. No playful glint when she'd laugh or nervous flicker when I'd come close. That was gone. Replaced by a coldness I couldn't bear to look at.

So, I walked her home. I let her leave me. Willingly. I should have never made that mistake.

I'm not the person I used to be. Before, I wouldn't fight for what I wanted. I'd go along with whatever scheme I'd been thrust into because I was weak. So weak. I'd stand by idly, hoping that one day I'd be freed from the internal prison I locked myself in. That day came sooner than I expected.

Scarlett was holding the key the day we met.

She made me want to be a better person. Not just for her, but for myself too. It's hard to be the person you know you can be when everyone expects someone different. Scarlett was the only one who couldn't judge me for my past. She was the only one who didn't know. I couldn't bring myself to tell her because I knew that once she did, I'd lose her like I lost everyone else.

I was selfish to keep it from her. Selfish to let her show me her scars without offering up my own. The person I used to be was selfish. But he was also scared. I'm not going to let myself be like that again.

I'm going to find her, and I'm going to tell her everything.

The first place I think to look is the beach. That's where I'd always find her, curled up on the sand with her earphones, gazing out over the water. I've been coming to the beach to escape it all since I was little. When my parents were screaming at each other and tears were pouring out my eyes, I'd go to the beach. Tell myself that when the tide starts coming in, everything at home would be alright again. Sometimes it was. Sometimes it wasn't. But feeling the sand beneath my feet and the water dancing around me, that quickly became home. I could see that it did for Scarlett too.

But she's not there. She's not sitting on the sand or floating in the water or standing on the pier. My heart sinks. If I just had a cell phone, I could call her. Make sure she's safe. It's killing me to think about the what ifs. What if she doesn't want to speak to me again? What if she stops going to the beach to avoid seeing me? What if she left Seabrook Island to escape me? The last one feels like a punch to the gut.

I'm not stupid enough to think I wouldn't deserve it.

I let my feet carry me to her work. A little gift shop near the pier. It always seemed fitting that she'd work there. Her eyes betrayed her words. She said she wanted to go back to Phoenix. That here would never truly be home. But her eyes held happiness, a calm you only achieve when your where you're meant to be. Scarlett was always meant to come here. She just didn't realize it.

I push the door open, marching over to the counter. Hope fills my chest.

"Phoenix," I shout into the back.

A girl who isn't Scarlett stares back at me through thick-rimmed glasses. She's too short. Her hair's too light. Scarlett's hair is brown, so soft that I have to restrain myself from running my fingers through it at every chance I get. A gnawing grows in my chest.

"Can I help you?" She blinks. Her voice is strained, and a tight smile is forced onto her lips. No matter how many times I see it, I can never get used to it. But it's the price I have to pay for what I did.

"I'm looking for Scarlett. She works here, right?"

"She does," she answers stiffly. She doesn't elaborate.

"Is she working today?"

The girl starts fiddling with a pile of papers on the counter. Her gaze doesn't meet mine. "She knows what you did," she mutters.

Her words are a knife to my chest.

"Olivia." I read the badge pinned to her shirt, "please, tell me where she is," I beg.

She looks at me now. Really looks at me. At my tensed jaw, bunched shoulders, and the dark circles plaguing my eyes. And something in her shifts. She sighs deeply with her hands on her hips.

"I haven't seen her since she went home sick."

My fear spikes. "When?"

"Yesterday, but- "

I don't give her a chance to finish her sentence because I'm already gone.

It takes me less than five minutes to reach her house. I stalk up the lawn and bang my fist against the door. One. Two. Three times. I almost knock a fourth time when the door swings open, revealing a man. He's got the same brown hair as Scarlett, except his is a little lighter. He's got the same arch of his cheekbones. The same soft jaw I find myself staring at when she's not looking. He must be her dad.

"Your daughter." I swallow the dryness in my throat, "Scarlett, is she here?"

His brows furrow. "How do you know my daughter?"

"We're- " I struggle to find a word that fits what we are, "friends."

"Are you Tyler?" When I nod, his face falls. "I was hoping she was with you."

The knife that's still piercing my chest turns slowly. Sharp pains spear out across my torso. "She's not here?" I ask, hoping that he's just hiding the truth from me because she doesn't want to see me. I could deal with that. It would kill me, but I could deal with it. What I couldn't deal with is not knowing if she was safe.

The fear written across his face tells me all I need to know. She didn't come home last night.

He leaves me standing at the door as he rushes upstairs, silently breaking down with each passing second. Every possible outcome plays over and over again in my head until my fists are clenched and my jaw aches from the tension.

"The money her mom left is missing." He steps outside and shuts the door, not bothering to lock it behind him.

I know where she's gone before he says it.

"She must have gone back to Phoenix. God, honey, what are you doing?" He breathes.

I follow him to his car. "I'll come with you."

"No," he says, shaking his head. "No, I need you to stay here in case she comes back."

And that's it. He's gone. Driving down the road towards the airport. And I'm left alone. Standing in the middle of the road, praying that she's okay. That he'll bring her back safe. That's all I want. A stray tear rolls down my cheek.

Please let her be safe.