Laurel.

The weight of Sophia's body is heavy in my arms, her sodden form dragging against me as I haul her from the waves.

Fury burns hotter than the salt spray, hotter than the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I yell, my voice ragged, even as I pull her onto the beach.

Sophia lies motionless, water pooling around her, her chest rising and falling in great, desperate gasps. But I'm beyond compassion right now.

I'm shaking—from fear, from anger, from the near-miss of losing her. My hands, which moments ago were reaching desperately to grab her sinking form, now clench into fists.

"Do you have any idea?" I'm practically screaming now, the words torn from somewhere deep inside me. "Any idea what you could have done? What you could have—" My voice breaks, and for a moment, the anger gives way to something more fragile, more wounded.

I grip her shoulders, half-shaking her, desperate for her to understand the magnitude of what she's just risked.

My heart is still racing, the memory of those terrifying moments when I saw her go under, when I thought I might be too late, burning like a brand.

“All you had to do was say no if you didn’t want to help!” I scream. “Drowning yourself? That’s a fucking low blow, Sophia!”

Sophia stands there, dripping wet, her body trembling as much from the cold as from my words.

She doesn’t say anything. She just stares at me, her lips slightly parted, like she wants to respond but can’t find the words.

I rake my hands through my hair, trying to suppress the anger rising like bile in my throat.

“You don’t get to do that,” I say, my voice shaking now. “You don’t get to just give up and leave!”

Her teeth chatter audibly, but she takes a small step toward me. “Laurel, I—”

“No.” I cut her off sharply, throwing up a hand. “Don’t. Don’t try to explain it. There’s no excuse for what you just tried to do.”

If she really did not want to help with the Emily case, she could have just said no and I would have understood. This is just too messed up, even for her.

It breaks my heart to see how far she can go just to rid herself of me.

“I wasn’t thinking,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, you didn’t mean to? What, you just accidentally walked into the ocean?” I spit, my words laced with venom. “For fuck’s sake, Sophia, talk to me! Tell me what’s going on in your head! Do you even realize what you almost did to me? What you almost did to yourself?”

She looks down at her feet, her wet hair sticking to her face.

“I didn’t know how else to stop it,” she murmurs, so softly I almost don’t hear her.

“Stop what?” I demand.

She doesn’t answer. Her silence is like gasoline on the fire inside me.

“Forget it.” I shake my head, turning away. “You’re...”

“Laurel, please.” Her voice is desperate now. “Please don’t walk away.”

I spin back around, startling her.

“What do you want me to say, Sophia? Huh? That I understand? That I forgive you? I can’t! I can’t because…” My voice falters, and I hate how weak it sounds.

She takes another step closer, but I back away.

“Because I’m in fucking love with you!” The confession bursts out of me before I can stop it, and for a moment, it feels like the whole world goes silent.

Sophia freezes, her wide eyes locking onto mine.

“I’m in love with you,” I repeat, quieter this time, my voice shaking. “And I don’t know what the hell to do with that because it wasn’t part of the plan. None of this was part of the plan.”

Her lips part, but no words come out.

I shake my head, laughing bitterly. “You don’t have to say anything. Hell, you probably shouldn’t say anything. I just… I need space.”

“Laurel, wait—”

But I’m already walking away, my bare feet kicking up sand as I storm back toward the cabin. I grab my keys from the table, grab some boots and slam the door shut behind me.

Sophia follows. “Laurel, don’t do this! Please, just talk to me!”

I don’t look back.

The engine roars to life, drowning out her voice. As I drive away, I catch a glimpse of her standing there in the rearview mirror, her arms wrapped around herself.

She's just as selfish as anyone else. She did something without thinking about other people.

I drive aimlessly. My hands grip the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles ache.

The weight of everything swirls in my head—Sophia, Emily, the whole goddamn mess.

I find myself pulling into the motel parking lot. The truck screeches to a halt, and I climb out, slamming the door behind me.

The notice board is the first thing I see when I step inside my rented room. The brightly colored flyers and papers mock me with their promises.

My hands reach up and start tearing at the papers, ripping them down one by one. The pins scatter across the floor, and the flyers fall in a crumpled heap around my feet.

A strangled sob escapes my throat as I finally tear the last piece of paper.

I collapse onto the floor. Then I cry.

For the first time in what feels like years, I let the tears come. They spill down my cheeks in hot, messy streams, soaking into my shirt. My body shakes, the sobs ripping through me like a tidal wave I can’t control.

I don’t know how long I sit there, my back against the wall, the crumpled papers around me. Eventually, the tears slow, leaving me hollow and exhausted.

I wipe my face with the back of my hand, taking a shaky breath.

I need to pull myself together. I can’t fall apart now. Emily is still out there and I can't give up now.

I stand, brushing off the bits of paper clinging to my jeans, and head to the bathroom.

I splash cold water on my face, trying to wash away the evidence of my breakdown.

When I look at myself in the mirror, I barely recognize the woman staring back at me. Her eyes are red and swollen, her face pale and drawn.

“You’ve got this,” I whisper to my reflection, my voice trembling. “You have to.”

But there's a hollow ache in my chest that won't go away.