Left in the Sand, Found by the Sea novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: Left at the Pump
Rocco and Bianca drive away from a desert gas station with Orla's suitcase, so she cancels everything she paid for and takes a bus to the sea, until Rocco texts: not that town.
The black Jeep pulled out of the gas station with my suitcase still in the back seat.
I stood at the pump holding a bottle of water and a receipt, and I watched it go.
Rocco was driving. Bianca sat beside him with her arm out the window, laughing.
They did not look in the mirror.
I had gone inside to pay for the gas and use the restroom, and that was all it took.
The clerk came out onto the step with her arms folded.
"Did your boyfriend just leave you here?"
"I think he's coming back," I said.
A trucker at the next pump had stopped filling his tank to watch.
He looked at the road, then at me, and said nothing.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket.
Rocco had written: The sunset at the rim is in an hour and Bianca won't get another shot at it.
Under that: Wait inside, two hours tops. I love you.
Under that: Don't be dramatic. You know I'd never leave you anywhere.
I read it standing in the heat while the clerk watched me read it.
This trip was mine.
I had planned it for a year, and the coastal hotel with the balcony was the part I loved most.
I had picked the town, Gannet Cove, because of a photo.
It showed a small lighthouse on a rocky point, creased soft from years behind Rocco's driver's license.
When I asked about it once, he said a friend gave it to him.
For four years he had said no to every beach I suggested, because he said the salt made him sick.
Then, the night before we left, I said the word lighthouse and he said yes so fast it surprised me.
A week earlier, Bianca had sent a canyon off-road map to our group chat, and Rocco had said the route looked intense.
She kept the trail map open on her phone the whole drive.
Her thumb stayed over one corner of the screen whenever I leaned in to look.
My phone buzzed again, and this time it was the group chat.
Bianca had sent a message meant for Rocco alone.
It said: She'll wait. She always does.
Under it, Rocco had answered with a laughing face.
Then Bianca's message disappeared. She had deleted it.
I had already screenshotted it, and I screen-recorded the whole thread until I had it twice.
The clerk read over my shoulder, and I let her.
"Honey," she said. "I'm so sorry."
"Does the bus stop here?"
"Across the highway, six-oh-five. It goes to the coast."
I looked at the clock, then at the sun, then at the road the Jeep had taken.
Two hours tops, he had written.
I would sit here until midnight if I let myself.
I always had.
I sat down on the curb and opened my email.
The canyon lodge was in my name and paid in full, so I cancelled it.
Then the helicopter tour, the private guide, the spa weekend and the dinner for four on the rim.
Every one of them carried my name and my card.
I wrote to each company, one line at a time, and watched the refunds land in my account.
The last one was the coastal hotel with the balcony.
I looked at it for a long time with my thumb over the button.
Then I cancelled that too.
It was a room for two, and I did not want to walk into it alone with his name on the confirmation.
I sent Rocco one text.
I cancelled everything I paid for. You can drive the canyon on your own money.
So I stepped out of the shade, crossed the highway, and bought a ticket for a bus that smelled like old coffee.
It cost forty-one dollars.
I paid cash, because Rocco had a way of finding my card.
The clerk walked all the way across the road to bring me a coffee, and she handed it up through the door.
"Go," she said.
The bus pulled out at six-oh-five exactly.
I did not look back at the pump.
Rocco called twice before the first town, and I let it ring.
By the third call I had turned off the sound, but I watched the screen light up in my lap anyway.
Then a text came in that was not an apology and not an order.
Orla, where are you going? Don't go to the coast.
A second one followed right behind it.
Not that town. Please.
I had never told him where I was going.
I had only told him one place, back in March, with a photo of a lighthouse in my hand.
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