They spent the afternoon on the private beach. Dashiell in dark jeans rolled to his calves, Liora in one of his oversized sweaters, both walking barefoot in the sand.
It was surreal. Domestic. Almost normal.
"My father died on a beach like this," Dashiell said suddenly. They'd been walking in comfortable silence, but his words shattered it.
Liora stopped. "I didn't know that."
"Heart attack. We were at our summer house. I was sixteen, Leander was twelve." He stared out at the waves. "He fell right there in the surf. I tried CPR. Screamed for help. But we were too far from the main house. By the time emergency services arrived..."
"Dashiell, I'm so sorry."
"My mother blamed me." He said it flatly, without emotion. "Not explicitly. She never said the words. But I could see it in her ey
