Chapter One

I liked to watch the sea turtle, which had a scar along its shell and looked like it didn't mind being alone. It was my favorite exhibit in large part because it was one of the less crowded viewing areas in the zoo. I could usually stand there for however long I wanted without feeling like I was in the way or hogging some child's zoological experience.

Usually.

The arrival of summer had hauled along with it hordes of sweaty bodies, camera flashes and children who were screaming either because they were too miserable or too excited. The aquarium section had been my sanctuary for months now, but it seemed that the closing of schools had robbed me of that. It was frustrating, yet I could tell that the creatures stuck in their enclosures were understandably more upset about it than I was. Even the sea turtle looked annoyed, and she showed expression very rarely.

A kid who clearly needed to be on Adderall or horse tranquilizers zipped past me full speed, his sneakered foot landing right on my big toe, which was exposed from my flip-flops and bruised from a recent stubbing incident.

"Motherf-" I began, crumpling at the waist and picking my injured foot up. I'm sure I looked like some pissed off flamingo.

"PENGUINS!" the child shrieked manically before zipping through a door.

"I'm so sorry!" a frazzled woman exclaimed, her upper lip sweating profusely. A red-faced infant was at her chest and secured in a precarious Moby wrap. It stared at me with the wide eyes of a creepy Furby, drool running down its chin and some sticky, purple-looking residue coating its face. "Did you see where he went?"

With my eyes watering in pain from my toe, I pointed wordlessly to a door that said "Do Not Enter" before sitting down on the viewing bench behind me.

"Oh, no. Ashton!" The infant's head bobbed like a buoy as the woman took off in hot pursuit of her demonic child.

I clutched my toe, annoyed. Why did there have to be so many people in the world? And why did they have to be so annoying?

"Her name is Speedy," a voice said above me. Lord, help me and whatever douche-canoe had decided now was a great time to chat me up. A guy sat down beside me, so close that his arm hair brushed against the skin of my elbow. He smelled of chlorine and sweat, the signature perfume of summer.

Still examining my toe and not at all in the mood for the male gaze, I snapped, "What?"

"The turtle. Her name is Speedy."

I put my foot down and turned to the speaker. He was a blonde guy with tanned, slightly olive skin, dark eyes and a secret smile. Under normal circumstances, I would find him attractive. Very attractive. Right now, I was pissed and bruised and too hot, so his looks just made him more annoying. "Real original. You pick that name out yourself?"

The stranger's eyebrows raised fractionally, though he appeared more amused than insulted. "Actually, a kid from the Make-A-Wish Foundation used her wish to name it," he replied innocently, keeping his eyes on the sea turtle as it wandered aimlessly in its tank.

My eyes went wide as I stared at the stranger, whom I now noticed was wearing a staff uniform. "Do you actually work here or is your job just to make strangers feel like total assholes?"

He shrugged. "I work here. Making people feel like assholes is just a hobby. Is your toe okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's fine. Keep an eye out for a spawn of Satan by the name of Ashton. He's wearing lead shoes, apparently." What did this guy want? Not once in all the months I'd been coming here had an employee approached me.

"I'm Beckett," he said, holding out his hand.

"Tyra," I replied reluctantly, grasping his hand loosely like he'd offered me the leash to a dog I would rather see run away.

He sat down beside me on the viewing bench. "You come here often?"

"Not really," I lied, going through the ways I could extricate myself from this conversation. Tell him I left the stove on? Start speaking in tongues? Stab him?

"You sure about that?" Beckett asked, that annoyingly clandestine smile widening.

I narrowed my eyes at him. He did work here, so it was entirely plausible that he'd seen me come here multiple times a week. Still, the arrogant way he framed the question had my difficult side coming out to play. "Yes, I'm sure," I hissed.

He nodded. "If you say so, Tyra."

I blew out a noisy breath. "Don't you have actual work to do?"

"Engaging with guests is part of my job."

"Lucky me," I mumbled.

"You know, when I'm having a bad day, I like to make a list of everything good that's happened," Beckett said lightly.

"Your shrink tell you that?"

"No, she actually told me to stop fantasizing about killing my sister so frequently. I came up with the list thing on my own. We'll start with your most recent ones."

"Awesome."

" One," he said, holding up his thumb. "You met a handsome stranger full of boyish charm and rugged good looks."

I shot a confused glance around the emptying space. "Where?"

He ignored me. "Two," he said, holding up another finger. "You learned the value of wearing close-toed shoes in public spaces. Three-"

"I learned to carry Mace in my purse to prevent unwanted advances from guys who smell like fish."

Beckett shrugged. "Axe's new body spray. And I'm not hitting on you."

I quirked a brow, feeling a little narcissistic. "No?"

"You'd know if I were hitting on you," he replied, leaning back on his hands and watching Speedy. "So tell me, Tyra. Why is it that you've been coming to the aquarium at least three times a week since March?" He appraised me. "Waiting for a lost love? Looking to communicate with creatures of the sea? Trying to find Nemo?"

My face lit like a flame as the reality of the situation hit me. This guy wasn't hitting on me - he was making fun of me. Hearing out loud how often I'd been coming here made me realize how ridiculous it actually was.

I remembered the first day I'd come to this place alone. My parents were at work and it was a miserable, gray morning. As usual, I watched as two little girls boarded the school bus at 8:43 AM, their heads ducked against the sleet. I had made a list the night before of all the things I wanted to do. Or rather, wanted to want to do, but the listlessness that had followed me for several months like a cold I couldn't shake remained. My therapist had told me that the best way to break out of the depression stage of the grieving process was to keep myself busy, but what is easily said is rarely easily done.

I'd come up with my own system where I'd accomplish one small goal at a time. Roll over. Sit up. Stand up. Pants on. Shirt on. It felt like trying to run the final mile in a marathon. This time, however, I added some new goals. Grab keys. Go to garage. Get in car. Drive.

I rolled out of bed, threw on some clothes, and drove to the only place I could think of that didn't sound terrible: the zoo.

Since the weather was poor, most of the outdoor exhibits were closed. I took cover from the sleet in the aquarium, which was remarkably empty of people and memories. The entrance was this cool tunnel that was almost pitch black, and the sound of waterfalls hidden in the darkness on either side roared in my ears. It filled my senses in the most comforting of ways, like the warmth of a fire seeping into cold, tired bones. The soft thundering of the dark water physically tickled my ears. When I made it to the exhibits, I watched the fish and dolphins for hours as they glided in their tanks. There was something so peaceful about that place and the creatures within, the light filtering through water encasing the space in a soothing blue sheen.

After that, when I found that it was hard for me to get out of bed or think of anything to do that sounded appealing (which was nearly every day), I would force myself to drive to the zoo and sit in the aquarium until everything else felt tolerable.

And I hadn't been self-conscious about it. Until now.

Avoiding Beckett's eyes, I grabbed my bag from beside me and stood abruptly, my face still blushing furiously. He stood with me, his demeanor instantly changing. "Look, I think it's-"

"I gotta go," I said, shouldering my bag.

He nodded, looking uneasy instead of arrogant for the first time since he'd sat down. If I didn't know better, I'd think he looked regretful. "I'll see you around."

You won't, I thought. I took one last glance at the sea turtle, said a silent goodbye and headed out the door.