I do as I told Luke I would and stop at the beach on the way home. It's quiet today, only a handful of families lingering about now, slowly tidying up their things, kids still chasing seagulls while their moms pack their toys.

I sink into the sand, cool without the sun beating down on it, and let the evening breeze pass over me, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply.

The low-tide smell of seaweed greets my nose. I've always loved that smell.

A shout in the distance pops my eyes open. Two small children, edging closer and closer to the water, laugh and shriek as the cold water creeps towards their toes. It was their mother I heard, yelling for them to stay close. They would be leaving soon.

My head tilts as I watch the children disobey her. The smaller of the two, a young girl with two curly pigtails, hops into the shallow water, splashing her dry t-shirt. The larger one, the boy, simply watches, looking over his shoulder towards his mom, and back to the girl again and again.

In the end, he takes the girl by the hand and drags her up the sand, back to their things and disappointed mom. The mother complains about the wet shirt and the girl seems to stomp her feet.

That's when I look away, giving them privacy as my mind is sucked into a memory.

Casey and I were older than those kids. I was probably about seven, my rebellious streak already exhausting mom, something she told our father often.

That day, she'd told me not to wade through the shallow pools left in the rocks from high tide. She had a whole list of reasons: the rocks were slippery and sharp, covered in slicing barnacles. I could fall and cut myself, or worse, crack my head and drown. The pools were home to lots of pinching creatures.  It would hurt horribly if they got me, she said.

I didn't listen. Casey was nearby, but not in the rocks like me. He was busy in the sand, building a mega castle, extending his moat as long as he could. Luke was with him, too, carrying buckets of sea water to their castle, pouring it into the moat, and repeating the process again. Each time he returned, the water had soaked into the sand again.

I didn't want to do that. I don't know where the Coopers were that day, or Brynn. So that left me to entertain myself.

Either way, I was being careful as I climbed through the boulders. I watched every step, purposefully avoiding any sharp barnacles or particularly slick rocks. I side-stepped icky green algae and kept my eyes peeled for any creepy crawlers in the shallow pools.

The creepy crawlers were the whole point, though. I liked plucking tiny crabs from the warm water, letting them crawl across my fingers before dropping  them back into the tidepools, watching them flutter slowly into the murky sand again.

Sometimes I found hermit crabs, too. I always planned on taking them home, hiding them from Mom. But I never did.

Finding a particularly flat rock, I looked over my shoulder and found Mom's nose in a book. Settling onto the rock, I hung my feet in the tide pool, the water nice and hot from the sun.

I loved how warm it was. I remember closing my eyes and soaking it in a little before getting to work.

Creeping forward, so far forward that my nose almost touched the surface of the salty water, I gently peeled small stones from the sand, hoping to find a new, tiny friend beneath them.

And I did. I made a few. The little baby crabs crawled across my palms, their delicate limbs tickling my skin. For a few moments, I was content, watching them sidestep right off the edge of my hand and into the tide pool again, satisfying plops marking each descent.

Then, in an effort to find more, I lost my balance, like Mom said I would. I caught myself of course, not cracking my head or even suffering a scratch.

See, Mom doesn't know everything, I remember thinking.

But my hand shifted a larger stone, and before I could pull my hand back, a larger crab, the size of which I normally avoided due to their big, angry claws, snapped a pincher at me. He got ahold of me, too, his claw snapping shut on the delicate skin between my thumb and pointer finger.

I yelped in pain, quickly checking that Mom hadn't heard me. She hadn't, the waves and shouts of other children washing out my cries.

I shook my hand frantically, but the crab did not let go. I pushed my hand into the tide pool, but he seemed to clamp tighter. I tried to pry him off with my other hand, but he was mean and refused to release me.

Tears swelled in my eyes. At the sting and also the fact that I'd have to ask Mom for help. She'd know I didn't listen. And even worse than that, I'd have to admit that maybe she did know something after all.

Cradling my hand to my chest, I was about to walk over to our spot under the rainbow umbrella when a shadow approached from behind me. I squinted into the sun to find Casey peering down at me, a smooth palm-sized stone in his hand.

"It's okay, Pickle." He touched my shoulder, helping me upright. "Just hold still, okay? I'll help you."

I sniffled but didn't protest. He flattened my hand against the larger rock formation, carefully pulling the crab as far as he could from my skin.

I winced as the claw tugged.

Quickly, Casey raised the stone in his hand and smashed it hard against the other rock, crushing the crab between them easily. I winced again, my mouth popping open in surprise. The crabs hard shell crunched audibly and his claw let go of my skin.

My tears stopped. "You killed him!"

Luke was there then, too. "Oh! Dead crab, cool." He leaned in to look at it closer.

"It was hurting you. I had to." Casey shrugged, peering over where Mom was sitting to make sure she wasn't looking for us. "I always have to protect you, Pickle. That's my job. Now come build the castle with us."

I didn't argue at first, just followed my brothers lead. But I was in a phase of asking a million questions and finally spoke up.

"What if you can't?" The dead crab stuck like gum in my brain.

"That won't happen." Casey laughed, plopping wet sand into his bucket. "Because I'm your big brother."

"So?" I glanced behind us, the rocks practically calling my name.

"So I'll always be here." He shrugged again.

"But what if you're not?"

For a minute, Casey just stared at me, pursing his lips like Mom did sometimes. He opened his mouth to answer me, having come up with something to satisfy me, I'm sure.

But Luke spoke first. "Then I will be."

He sat down between us, using his hands to dig the moat even deeper.

Casey looked at him, broke into a goofy grin, and met my stare again. "See Dylan? If I'm not there for some reason, you've got Luke to watch you, too. You have nothing to worry about."

He went back to his castle then, his freckled nose scrunched in effort. I watched for awhile, the crab fading from my mind as I finally began to take orders from Casey and help Luke dig.

And just like that, the memory fades. I don't remember how we spent the rest of the afternoon, or if Mom ever caught sight of the bruise left in my skin from the angry crab.

Instead, I think about Casey. Who he'd be if he was still here. The classes he would've bragged about taking in college. Marine science, maybe. The job he'd have now. Something where he could work with his hands, be outside.

I can almost hear the nervous quiver in his voice as he'd tell me his plans. To buy his own house, maybe to propose. To Maya.

I wince.

Not to Maya. To someone else, someone who would actually deserve him. She'd be nice, she wouldn't kiss her best friends boyfriend. And boyfriends best friend.

I think of the accident, of how Casey died on his way to save me, yet again. Leaving a party to tell me Luke had hurt me, exactly how Casey had warned me that he might.

I shake my head at the ridiculousness of it all.

Casey deserved so much more.

A better girlfriend, for one. A chance to live out every dream he ever had. To make mistakes and be hurt, to recover and love some more. To live.

"Ugh," I tilt my head to the sky, using my fist to wipe a stray tear. "I don't know what to do." I say out loud, my thoughts dizzying as they race through my mind, and shift my gaze to the horizon again.

My mind stumbles onto Luke. His invitation for the cookout at his house. That dimpled smile of his as he invited me.

The jitters I feel even considering going. And the guilt.

Scenes from his bed flood my mind and my cheeks get intensely hot.

"What the fuck am I doing?" My chest falls with a deep sigh. I stare at the ocean, waiting for answers I know I won't get.

Casey's words, his promise to always take care of me, bounce around my brain. Luke's immediate vow to do the same if Casey couldn't stirs emotions in me, muddling my train of thought.

Until I'm back that night in the ocean, after my date with Ryan, the salt water nearly drowning me. Luke had no reason to be there and no business paddling his board into the dangerous tide, ignoring his doctors warnings, to save me.

But he did.

He just did.

For me. For Casey.

So how the hell can he really be so bad?

Hi everyone!
I'll be back with more regular updates now. I'm sorry ): These past few months have been pure chaos, one thing after another. But I'm feeling better and can't wait to share the rest of Dylan's story with you!
Talk to me in the comments: how've you been?
What do you make of Dylan's dilemma, is Luke really so bad?