Misty

"You need to chill," I hiss, giving Cole a nudge in the hipbone.

He adjusts my duffle bag on his shoulder and shoots daggers down at me before clearing his throat and rapping his knuckles on the front door of my grandparents' beach house in Maatua.

It's pouring down rain. Thunder snaps in the distance, sending a boom rattling over the nearby shore just beyond the house. I breathe in the familiar scent of salt and ozone and say a short, sweet prayer that the next three days aren't a total shitshow.

Normally, I'd waltz right in. I lived here for over a year, for Goddess' sake. It's practically...