Chelsea and I had maybe two more hours in the cabana before the wind began to pick up and rain started falling. Our conversation dwindled to silence; she no longer discussed Jason or Tony Marino and I was left trying to figure out what it all meant.

From what Chelsea was insinuating, it didn't make sense. I don't know why Jason would have a reason to be so angry with Tony that he would ever need to turn violent. That wasn't the Jason I knew. Yes, he and I had had a private conversation at the graduation party, and yes, I may have let him kiss me despite the fact I had every intention on spending the night with Tony and not him. But it was only one night...

Wasn't it?

And Jason...

He had to have known that. He left after he considered our conversation over, not looking back. And he left the party— or, at least, I assumed he had. He stormed out of the room when I told him I wasn't interested and I didn't see him again. Not for five years. Until two days ago.

But Tony...

What had happened to Tony?

He and I had planned on spending the night together— it wasn't supposed to mean anything. Just one of those things we both wanted to try before we went our separate ways and lost the chance to do it ever again. I mean... that's what teenagers did, right?

And Jason... the reason I didn't want to sleep with him was because he meant more to me than a stupid high school one-night-stand. I didn't just want to have him be a checked-off box on a dumb personal bucket list. He meant more to men than that.

So that's why Tony and I did what we did... I think.

The harder I tried to think about it, the more it became harder to remember. Like a dream just after waking. In fact, the entire summer between the graduation party and leaving for college was like a blur, just on the peripheral of my memory.

"Jason's got a dinner reservation for us."

Chelsea's unexpected announcement about food plans jolted me from my thoughts. She held up her phone as I looked over to her for additional clarification.

"He at least had the forethought to make sure we could eat tonight at someplace that didn't look like the 50s threw up on the walls." The phone buzzed again and she frowned. "And we need to be ready by 5 o'clock."

"Which is in...?"

"About three hours."

It seemed I was losing track of time as well as my memory. But none too soon thunder rolled in the distance. With a glance to Chelsea, we started finishing the end of our drinks and rolling up our towels. We knew the storm was coming— the dark clouds in the distance since we had arrived ensured it would be inevitable— and now we had no choice but to make the best of it while we had to.

Maybe locking myself in the room with both Chelsea and Jason with nowhere else to go would finally help me sort through my thoughts and give me the answers I was looking for.

Maybe that and booze.

Another rumble of thunder had us heading towards the hotel but not before I cast a glance towards the very breakers Jason said he would be hiking up that day. If he was able to get a text back to Chelsea I assumed it was a good sign that he was doing alright, but there was still a knot in my stomach that only seemed to tighten as I was the waves crash violently against the craggy rocks... and would continue to do so until I saw him safe again.

Thankfully he was already waiting for us back in the room, answering the door only in jeans and toweling dry his hair as if he had just taken a shower while Chelsea was fumbling for the room key.

"It's good to see you didn't fall off a cliff," Chelsea said in a huff as she pushed past us.

"And it's good to see you didn't get lost at sea," Jason responded, though the confusion at her sudden animosity was as evident in his face as I knew it was on mine.

Not wanting to create any more unwarranted tension, I was about to pull Jason back into the bedroom, silently grabbing him by the hand, when Chelsea, rather loudly, exclaimed, "Oh, by all means, don't let me be the third wheel."

I cringed and stopped. The last thing I wanted to do was to make her feel anything like that, and it was very out of character for her to vocalize it. Something had rattled her. Maybe it was the storm... maybe it was our conversation on the beach. But I thought that maybe if we just left her alone for a bit, gave her some time, and didn't instigate—

"Who pissed in your mai tai?" Jason hissed.

Or not.

Chelsea let out a sardonic laugh, stopping midway to her own room. "Maybe the same person who continues to insist on putting me in a situation that pits my best friend against me?"

Me. This was about me.

"Jason, please," I begged under my breath, wishing he would just let Chelsea calm down so we could all get ready for dinner in peace. I didn't want to be the reason for any tension, especially when the three of us were going to be forced to spend a lot of time together very, very soon.

But it was like a ticking time bomb about to explode and I knew exactly what was going to detonate it.

"Is this about Sam asking you what happened to Tony Marino?"

Boom.

"Why is everyone asking me?" Chelsea snapped. "Because clearly you're too much a coward to tell her yourself?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Isn't there?" The smirk on Chelsea's face implied otherwise and I was starting to feel sick.

Jason stepped away, clearing halfway across the room. "You mean beyond what your parents paid the local press and how they used their affluent influence to convince the authorities to spin their stories away from their precious elite existence?"

Chelsea scoffed, holding her ground. "Says the one who was mighty quick to leave right before the cops showed up."

Watching them fight back and forth was like a tennis match and my attention span was the tennis ball. "Wait, what story? And what cops?"

Jason maintained his stare at Chelsea and she let out that laugh again. "Why are we still playing these games?"

"What games?" I was almost begging now.

Chelsea turned to me, and something in her gaze was unhinged. "Do you really want to know what happened to Tony Marino? And why you haven't heard from him since graduation?"

Chelsea started approaching while she spoke, and Jason stepped on between us— if I didn't know any better like he was trying to protect me. "Chelsea, don't."

"Oh no, Jason. You don't get to moderate now. You told her to ask me and I'm going to tell her. Because clearly, you won't."

Her attention was wholly focused on me. "Tony Marino stopped talking to you because he can't talk to you. He was attacked the night of the graduation party."

I blinked. That was not an explanation I expected. "How? By who?" was all I was able to get out beyond my surprise, all while trying to recall the events of the graduation party, unable to piece it together. Why the hell couldn't I remember something as serious as that?

"They don't know. They never caught the guy. Or guys. Some say it was a drug deal gone bad but..." she shrugged. "Some seem to believe the true story never came out."

"Cut the shit, Chelsea—" Jason started, but it was all too much.

"No, you both need to cut the shit." I started backing away from both of them. Both Jason and Chelsea watched me like they were trying to figure out what I would do next, what I would ask next.

But I didn't want to ask anything. I didn't want to do anything.

My head was pounding and my heart was racing while I struggled to remember the night with Tony Marino, what happened after, and everything else for the last five years.

"Sam," Jason said, taking a step closer, and I held my hands out in front of me, defensively, as I continued to backpedal towards my room.

"Don't. I just... I want to be alone for a bit."

Jason frowned but listened and didn't try to move closer.

Chelsea, on the other hand, called out, "Does this mean you're not coming to dinner?"

Jason shot her a glare but I only shook my head. "I think... I drank too much on the beach. I'm going to try to sleep it off."

"Suit yourself." Chelsea's nonchalant shrug was enough to tell me she was done with the conversation and she disappeared behind her own room's door.

Jason, however, lingered, watching me. Assessing me.

I hated feeling like some sort of test subject under a microscope. "I just need some rest," was all I said before I, too, withdrew to my own room. Even as I clicked the door shut, I felt Jason's stare through the white painted wooden panels. But I needed space. I needed time.

I needed to figure out what the hell happened to Tony Marino.