Owen and Abby

The kiss tasted like salt, seawater, and relief. Rain hammered against the windows of the boat while the storm rolled over the black ocean, but neither of them pulled away. For one stolen second, the world outside disappeared — no danger, no fear, no ghosts chasing them through the dark. Just them. Her mother gripped the front of his shirt tightly, breathing hard from everything they had survived that night. He held her like he was afraid she’d vanish if he loosened his arms even a little. Years later, their daughter would hear that story a hundred different ways.Sometimes her mom swore he had kissed her first. Sometimes her dad claimed she practically tackled him into the wall. Both versions made eighteen-year-old Rae roll her eyes every single time. She looked more like her mother — strong shoulders, determined eyes, dark braid hanging down her back — but she had her father’s softer smile and his habit of trying to make everyone laugh when things got tense. And things had been tense lately. At eighteen, Rae stood on the edge of her own life now. College letters stacked on her desk upstairs. Dreams too big for the small harbor town they lived in. Part of her wanted to leave immediately.