She kicked off her sandals and raced along the wet sand, arms churning, legs flying, hair streaming behind her. I followed her lead, feeling my muscles respond as they hadn’t in many years. I let loose and ran like hell, stirring sand and making good progress catching up with her. We must have covered a mile-and-a-half before she stopped, sobbing, gulping, and wheezing. I dropped to the sand, breathing hard. “I hate him! I goddamn hate his lying guts. He ruined us, Libby.”She plopped beside me, still crying so hard she began to hiccup and I feared she might not have enough breath in her to survive the violent heaving. “I thought…you…you played me, Finn.”I flopped to my back, my arms and legs outstretched. Raw emotions coursed through me, filling me again with anger and a desire to hurt something. Someone. Anything. “I should have known. I should have guessed he talked to you. Screwed it up for us.”Her crying slowed now, reduced to weak jerks and shudders. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, finally quiet enough to speak a few words.
