Chapter 3

Weeks have gone by, and while Alyssa and I haven't been able to find me a new job, we got my student loans onto a repayment schedule that helped take some burdens off my shoulders, and the diner has become a lot busier recently.

My harebrained application to the network about being on the show Stranded is almost all but forgotten. Until now. An email notification popped up on my phone only moments ago. I glanced at the screen briefly, thinking it was junk e-mail hitting my inbox. It's my day off, and I don't want to be bothered, even if it's something important. I immediately opened it, reading it four times before I decide I'm losing my damned mind.

There's no way I was chosen.

My brain backtracks, and I'm trying to decide if it's worth it now. Sure, the first few days after I applied, I studied up by watching my dad's old home movies. I tried to keep as much as possible etched into my brain, taking fastidious notes. But when no word came from the network, I all but wrote the opportunity off. There are so many more qualified individuals. I knew I would not be the one chosen.

There's a line in the email that my brain can't get over.

To have you on our program would be an honor.

The honor part had gotten me. Even though I don't know if they knew my dad, as most of his videos were on YouTube and still don't have a huge viewing range, it tugs at my heartstrings to think I might honor him.

Dialing Alyssa, I close my eyes as the phone rings. She only gets half of the word hello out before I blurt, "I got on the show, Alyssa! This was your fault, and now I'm panicking. I think… I can't breathe!" Standing, I put my other hand in my hair as I pace. "This is your damned fault!" I add before she can get a word in edge-wise.

"Okay, calm down! Where are you? At home?"

"Yes, I'm at home. It's my day off. And now it's ruined. I'm going to have a panic attack. Get over here!"

"I'm coming now! Don't freak out!" She ends the call, and the phone app closes. The remaining app open is the damned email. The one that I can't stop reading.

Training starts in a week, and I'm required to attend if I want to be a part of the show. I'm allowed to choose ten items to take with me to help me survive, and I'll be filming myself. Of course, I knew all these facts from being a viewer, but being on the other side of it has me intently reading every scrap of information they give me.

When Alyssa finally arrives, I throw my phone at her. She catches it, eyeing me how she does when I'm freaking out over something she doesn't deem necessary of said freak out.

"This is amazing. Oh, man, they mention your dad." Her tone grows somber as she lifts her gaze to me, pity filling it.

"I'm fine. It's just I'd already decided I don't need to go, and now it's in front of me, and…" I throw my hands up, sighing heavily.

"And, what? You don't have to. It says you have a couple of days to respond. I don't see the issue; can you explain what's going on in your head?"

"I was fine telling them no, and then they mentioned Dad." My eyes drop to my feet. "Now, it almost feels as if he's a part of this. Especially since I finally opened all those old movies Mom sent to study up in case I got picked. It's like…"

She steps toward me, laying her hand on my arm. "Like you could do this in his honor? Like he's watching?"

I nod. A single tear forms and makes its way down my cheek, and she frowns at it.

"Well, maybe he is. Maybe he will be by your side the entire time, hmm?"

"This is crazy! It's about to be winter, Lyss! I can't go to the Pacific Northwest in the fucking winter! Surviving out there takes wit and guts, and that's in the milder seasons!"

She nods in agreement, but her face doesn't change. "It's up to you, B. But they sound confident in their email. I think you can do it. And I know your dad would say the same."

My lower lip trembles, but I keep my composure. "What if I make an ass out of myself?"

She perks up. "Well, you're the one filming, aren't you? Only film when you're on your game! That's easy."

I laugh. "Pretty sure they want the raw stuff, too."

"I truly think you can do this, B. I wouldn't say so otherwise. But the choice is in your hands."

It felt easy enough to just ignore the email, but now, with his name mentioned, it feels harder than ever to squander the opportunity away and turn the other cheek.

I look at the ceiling in resignation. "You're writing the acceptance email. I don't think my hands can stop shaking long enough."

She squeals, jumping up and down as she opens my phone back up and types. Watching her with an anxious eye, I ponder all the things I'll need to line up: someone to watch my apartment, PTO paperwork at work, and someone to stop by and act as if I'm here now and again. I've watched every season of Stranded. Sometimes they're in the wild for over a month. Although this town is safe enough, this world is slowly changing, and I don't want to come home to a break-in.

"Are you going to tell your mother?" Alyssa asks, and I all but stop in my tracks.

How in all the madness had I not thought about her? I know it's going to be hard to explain the why of what I'm doing to her. While I thought this was for money, it's become something more for me since watching the home movies she sent to me.

I nod. "I'll have to."

She's going to be upset. It's how she lost my father; to an expedition. We still haven't heard a word from any authorities about his whereabouts. There's been no crack in the case, no body found, and no evidence that has surfaced. He simply vanished from the face of the planet. It took years for us to wrap our minds around it, and it's the only reason guilt is dropping to the bottom of my stomach like heavy stones.

I'm going to be the reason it all comes back up again, and I don't like how that makes me feel.

* * *

The drivewayat my mother's house is a circle with a massive fountain in the middle. Chubby cherubs spew water from their mouths at one another in scantily clad togas. The house is brick and daunting. Every time I come home, I can't believe I grew up here.

Sighing, I take steps toward the massive wooden door. Reaching for the bell, I hesitate only for a moment before pressing it in.

When she answers it, she only cracks it enough to see who is outside. Seeing me, she swings it wide open.

"Brynne? Why are you here?"

"Lovely to see you too, Mom."

She rolls her eyes, deflating a little as my telltale attitude flares its head. Likely it makes her feel nothing's wrong since I'm still being a brat.

It's what she always called me when she thought I couldn't hear her muttering under her breath. She and I were never close. When Dad vanished, we were left alone in a world we didn't know how to navigate together.

"Come in. It's so windy today." She ushers me inside, shutting the salty air out behind us.

Her home is directly on the beach. The back of the house overlooks the gulf, and it's beautiful. Don't get me wrong. But I never understood why she stayed in this massive home after he disappeared and after I left.

I left home with my ass on fire. I was ready to be rid of the uncomfortable tension between us. Ready to be on my own. But that's something every teen longs for. Even though I'm drowning in bills and have been robbing one person to pay another, I wouldn't go back and change a thing.

"So, what's going on? I normally only hear from you on holidays." Her tone is sharp and cold as she leads me into the living area.

The sliding glass doors have their curtains wide open, and the churning waters of the gulf beyond mirror the feeling in my stomach.

"Well, I wanted to discuss something with you before it happens. I didn't want you to find out from the television."

She turns from where she'd begun pouring us wine from the drink cart in the corner, eyeing me inquisitively. I've piqued her interest. She's always wanted me to be more. To do more. Too bad it's not what she thinks.

She puts the lid on the glass decanter and moves across the room to hand me my glass. It's two p.m., but apparently, we can't have a conversation without drinking.

I sit on the couch that looks as if no one sits on it, and the silky fabric caresses the back of my legs.

"I'm going to be on a show on TVPlus called Stranded. I'm certain you haven't heard of it, but…"

She gasps, setting her wine onto the small decorative table in front of us, turning toward me to face me head-on.

I swallow.

"I've heard of it. But why would you… And after he…"

My mother has always seemed like a hard woman. One who hides things far beneath the surface. But the one thing she couldn't hide was the love they shared. He was her only love. She's never remarried and will tell anyone who asks that she will never do so.

They were soulmates.

The only thing they didn't agree on was how dangerous his job was. How the elements can turn on a dime, or how animals don't care that you have a family before they attack.

Her worst fears became a reality when he never returned, leaving her in a state of anguish.

Tears fill her eyes. "I know you think I hate you, Brynne. But I don't. I could never. You're the last part of him. Why are you doing this? Money? I can give you money!"

Now I know I've struck a chord because she's been adamant I need to survive and handle life on my own. No matter what it took.

"At first, I thought I was doing it for money. But then, after I applied, I started watching those movies you sent me. The remastered ones. You remember?"

She nods, hanging on my every word, and I don't like it. I don't care to see my mother unhinged because it's turning my normal upside down.

"Seeing him again… Seeing how much he taught me. So much I forgot. Some of it is because of aging, I'm sure. But some because I wasn't listening. I heard him, but I wasn't listening. I miss him, Mom. And I hadn't let myself feel it. I haven't grieved. I need to… I need this. I need to walk in his footsteps. I need to feel closer to him. So that I can…" I hang my head, emotion burning in my throat to be released.

But she doesn't respect emotion. Calls it weak. It's why she won't let her tears fall.

"So you can let go," she realizes. Her hand reaches for mine. And for once, she doesn't pull it back.

I let her hold my hand and we sit in silence. My confession hanging heavy between us, the house he built surrounding us, and my heart breaking the only sound in my ears.

A sniffle has my head flying upward to look at her. But the tear—if it ever was—is already gone. A thing of the past.

"Well, I wish you luck. And I'll be watching."

It's the closest thing to a moment she and I have ever had before. I squeeze her hand.

"Thank you, Mom."

She nods silently, slipping her hand from mine and patting my knee a few times before standing and grabbing for her wine. She downs it in a handful of gulps and then moves out of the room.

Dad used to say she had thick outer layers, but that when she let you in and you got her center, she had a heart of gold and a soul full of warmth.

Too bad I don't think I'll ever get to see it. Without him, there isn't a way in.