The fogginess disappears as anger reheats my blood.
I don’t sound convincing at all.
After that, I allow the alcohol to silence my mind and drift off to sleep.
I’m moving. I smile as I snuggle closer to Lucca. “What are you doing?” Why was he carrying me? The car journey and plane ride come back, and I look up at Lucca; only the world is black.
I try to pull the blindfold off my face, but Lucca stops me. “You fell asleep on the plane. The blindfold is so you don’t know where we are.”
“That terrifies me,” I say, not liking having my sight taken from me. Laughter rattles Lucca’s chest, and that settles me.
Nothing was going to happen. Nothing bad is going to happen, I remind myself.
I hear a car door open, and then I’m placed on the seat. Lucca slides in beside me.
“How long will I be blindfolded?” I ask.
“Not long,” Lucca says as the car moves under us.
“Can I have some water?”
Silence. Moments later, a bottle touches my lips, and I drink deeply.
I’m restless for most of the journey, and when we stop, I’m ready to rip off the blindfold, but Lucca stops me.
“I need you to trust me.” His words carry a weight that wraps tightly around my throat. It takes me a moment, but I nod.
He helps me out of the car and stands me on the ground. The air is cold but fresh as I take a few steps.
The wind carries a smell that has my stomach tumbling and turning as we walk—turmoil tears through me. Lucca’s hand is solid in mine. I’m a pillar of sand, ready to dissolve. The ground beneath me isn’t firm; it shifts and sinks under my sneakers.
Hope of all hope blossoms like a poisonous plant.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“You're nearly there, Evie.” His voice is a whispered promise in my ear. My fingers dance across the blindfold, but Lucca pulls my hand away.
“Nearly there.”
Cold water pours over my sneakers, filling them. Anyone else would dance away from the contact. My knees turn to jelly, and this time when I reach up and take off the blindfold, Lucca doesn’t stop me. I stare out at the ocean.
Lucca’s hand hasn’t left mine. It’s the only thing that is keeping me still.
I taste the salt on my lips. My lids flutter closed as an onslaught of pain slashes through me. It’s too much.
It’s not enough.
I take a step into the water, letting it brush along my ankles—the waves rock and roar in the distance.
“I’m trying to right my wrongs.” Lucca’s whispered words tear a sob from deep down inside me. All that lay there was rot. I had turned myself inside out for eight years. I had dreamed of returning here, of getting a do-over, and now here I stood. My home is behind me, but I am too afraid to look. I am too afraid of what I will find. So I stand in the waves.
I’m ten again. I’m being turned upside down by the waves. I am back to that moment when I’m sinking, thinking I shouldn’t have left my bed.
Lucca’s warm hand in mine makes me look at him. He’s watching me.
He turns to me and takes my face in his hands. “Your parents are alive.”
A sob pours from my trembling, salty lips.
“They know you are alive. They are waiting for you.” Lucca turns towards the shore, and I follow where he is looking. In the distance, I see my parents’ home, my home. It’s not a mirage. This isn’t a dream.
I’m home. I’m back in County Clare.
This is the moment I thought I would be running through the sand, screaming their names, but I can’t move.
“Do they know?” Tears drip down my face and coat my lips.
“Yes, I told them what happened.”
“Do they know your part in it?” I ask.
Lucca’s hand heats my cheeks. “I told them you escaped and met me, and I helped get you out of the country.”
It wasn’t far from the truth.
I swallow my pain.
“You did all this?”
Lucca releases me now, getting uncomfortable with any praise. My feet sink further into the wet sand, itching to move.
“It’s the least I could do.” Lucca looks away.
I look back at the house and wrap my arms around my waist. The cold has seeped into my shaky bones since Lucca released my face.
“Are they in the house?”
“Yes.”
I close my eyes briefly before looking at the house.
“It’s been eight years.” Eight years of loss and pain.
Eight years of wondering.
The front door of my home opens, and a figure appears. I can barely see as the large man whose memory has kept me alive steps out.
“Dad.” It’s a whispered word filled with pain. He’s moving as if the wind carried my tortured word to him.
“Dad.” This time it isn’t a dream. I’m turning. I’m running towards my dad. Towards everything that kept me breathing all these years.
He meets me halfway, and I’m in his arms. The smell of home pours off him, and I can’t breathe because I’ve made it.
I’m home.
I’m really here. Sobs are pulled from the deepest part of my soul, and my dad’s soon match mine. Another set of arms embrace me. The tremble of our bodies is no match for what’s happening to our soul.
“My baby.” My mother’s cries have me trying to see her face, but she’s buried her head in my neck. Her voice is sweeter than I remember. I’m clinging to my dad who’s strong arms hold me up.
We stay like that for a while. My parents release me and grip my face. “It’s really
