Denying Dylan | ✔️

(20) "You've always had me."

D Y L A N

Waves crashed on the shore, the horizon was dusted with dark orange and the silhouettes of the seagulls flying across the sky. Bea hadn't moved in half an hour. She was crouched in the sand now, knees drawn to her chest, long waves of golden hair cascading and whipping around her shoulders.

I sat behind her, close enough that she could feel me but not so close that she couldn't pretend to be alone with her mom. Which I knew was what she wanted. She'd been mumbling farewells since she emptied the urn and watched the wind settle the dust in Cassandra's favourite place. The beach. The ocean. Bea has always been more of a city girl. She loves the lights, the noise and the fact that there's never a quiet moment.

But she suited the beach. Her hair, while matted and a mess from not having brushed it all week, was gorgeous, capturing the shine of the sun and illuminating its strands. Her thin sun dress with short sleeves and daisies all over it, fell to her thighs and the natural warmth in her skin was glowing after having so much sun.

She was a vision and so at home in the sand, in front of the soft waves and setting sun. I wanted to pick up her camera and focus on her delicate heart shaped face. But now wasn't the time. All week she'd been simultaneously preparing for this moment and hoping to avoid it. As much as she wanted to make sure that her mom was put to rest somewhere that she loved, it was so final and there was nothing left to do now. She had to begin to grieve and move forward.

I knew that she wasn't ready for that.

Her shoulders rose and fell before she began to twist around so that she was facing me. Her cheeks were streaked, her skin blotched and red but her smile still knocked the wind out of me. "I guess we should go? Or get a room for the night. It's a bit late to start driving, huh?"

"I'm not sure what the time is," I said, fishing in my pocket for my phone. She hadn't touched hers since we left. The reason being that Kevin was trying to make contact. He'd even sent me a text message describing how much shit we were both going to be in for stealing the urn. I had no regrets over our actions, he didn't deserve to hold onto Cassandra.

"It's six," I said, briefly reading over a text from Brecken, threatening that if I come back here without telling Bea how I feel, I might as well not come home at all. "We should get a room and head off in the morning? Drive fresh. You'll just end up falling asleep in the car and it won't be comfortable."

She nodded, rubbing her hands across her tired face.

I stood fast and helped her up, every part of me wishing that I could steal some of that pain. Because she didn't have to tell me, I could see it. I knew her better than I knew me. Her raw, unfiltered emotion had never been hard to gauge. For me at least. And as if it were the most natural and instinctual thing in the world, I ached to protect her. It just so happened that this wasn't something I could save her from. It was a helpless feeling that I resented.

"I think I might move to the beach," she said once we were in the car, her glazed over stare fixed on the water on the other side of her window.

I smiled and gave her a small nod. "I've heard it's a pretty peaceful place to live. I wouldn't mind retiring on the beach." It was better to just nod along and go with whatever plan she concocted when she was in this mind frame. Bea was impulsive and chopping and changing all the time. Hell, she might even do it, rent an apartment on the waterfront for a few months. It wouldn't surprise me if she was gearing up for the next adventure five minutes later too.