His open expression made me want to run into the ocean and drown myself. In the warm light of the setting sun his eyes were golden and fixed on me. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. _365 days. You won’t see him for another 365 days. _I dug my toes into the sand, averting my gaze.

“How am I supposed to spend another year away?” His voice was soft, so soft I wasn’t entirely sure he’d meant for me to hear or to answer. I fiddled with a loose strand of my hair and kept my eyes on the horizon. “Emma,” he whispered - it sounded like a plea.

“I don’t know.” Several silent moments passed. “I don’t know, but it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“Yeah but it feels…” he paused, and my heart tightened. “It feels different this time.” He was right. Something did feel different this time. Like a dam had broken. Like we were careening toward each other at lightning speed and barely had time to brace for impact.

“How?” I asked. I knew, but I needed him to say. To actually voice the truth that hung heavy between us. He didn’t answer at first. Against my better judgment, I turned to look at him. He was gazing at me, his expression tortured, his full lips pursed. “How?” I asked again.

“You know I can’t answer that.”

“Yes, you can.” He broke eye contact and ran a hand through his hair.

“You know if I do there’s no going back.”