I turned to face him and found that he hadn’t moved any farther into the room. I bit down on my resentful irritation. Why couldn’t he be normal just this once? I thought hatefully before I could stop myself.

And then I felt guilty for thinking that at all. I wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for Flynn. He was doing this for me. For him. For the both of us. It wasn’t fair to be annoyed by things he couldn’t control.

But it didn’t stop me from wishing like a selfish brat that he’d suck it up, just this once.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It’s not his fault. I reminded myself over and over again. He did this for you.

I opened my eyes and crossed the room back to Flynn. I picked up our suitcases and put them on the bed. “Let’s unpack and put things in their places. You can make sure you’re comfortable before we decide what to do next,” I suggested.

Flynn nodded and joined me by the bed. The next hour was spent taking out clothes and hanging them in the wardrobe. Then he placed his toiletries in the bathroom exactly how they were positioned on his sink at home. He and I looked in all the nooks and crannies until he knew the room inside and out.

I saw that he was starting to calm down. He had stopped rubbing his hands, though he continued to gnaw on his bottom lip.

I found Murphy’s bowls and filled them with food and water. He scarfed it down quickly and then resumed his nap on the bed.

“Do you want to go to the beach?” I asked, hoping he’d say yes, though deep down knowing better.

Flynn sat down tentatively on the bed. “I don’t know,” he said, turning his attention to the glass doors. I was dying to go for a walk on the sand. To get my toes wet in the waves. But I couldn’t rush him.

“How about we open the doors and walk out on the balcony first. See how you feel about it after that,” I prompted.

Flynn stared out the window for a while longer then nodded. “Okay,” he agreed, though he still sounded nervous.

I opened the sliding doors and waited for Flynn before stepping outside. There was a strong breeze coming off the ocean and I felt the salt sticking to my skin. I licked my lips, tasting it on my mouth.

“It’s cold,” Flynn said.

“Do you want a sweater?” I asked him. He shook his head.

“No, I’m okay.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the picture before us.

“What do you think? Is it as horrible as last time?” I asked.

Flynn shrugged his shoulders. “It smells just as bad. Like fish. It’s gross. And I don’t like how sticky my skin feels. I need to wash my hands,” he held his palms out like they were bothering him.

I took one of them in mine and squeezed. “I think they feel just fine,” I told him.

Flynn smiled but was still looking out at the ocean.

“It’s pretty,” he said quietly.

“It is,” I nodded.

“I like being here with you. It makes me happy. Does it make you happy?” he asked, sounding worried.

I turned him by his shoulders so that he was facing me. I lightly grasped his chin between my fingers and pulled his face so that he was finally looking at me. I rubbed my thumb along his lower lip.

“I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life. Thank you, Flynn, for bringing me here with you,” I said sincerely.

Flynn’s shy smile caused my heart to twist in my chest. This strange emotion surging forth inside me that I knew without a doubt was love, made tears sting my eyes.

We stood that way for a while; our hands clasped together, the breeze from the ocean swirling around us. I laid my head against his chest and felt the thud of his heart beneath my ear, lulling me with its steady comfort.

Flynn’s hands pulled away from mine and then came up to press into my back as he held me. He so rarely put his arms around me that I soaked up the moment.

“I love you, Flynn,” I told him, not expecting or even needing a response. And it didn’t hurt when I didn’t get one. I knew he loved me. His actions had always told me what I needed to hear.

“I have something for you,” he said after a few minutes. I looked up at him to find his green eyes dancing.

“You do?” I asked.

He walked into the room and I followed, closing the doors behind me.

Flynn dug into his bag and wrapped his hands around something small, concealing it with his fingers.

He held his arm out, his hand closed in a fist around the mystery object.

“Give me your hand,” Flynn said with a touch of his customary impatience.

I did as I was told and he placed something in my palm.

I looked down to find a miniature sand castle. I held it up to the light so I could see it better. It actually seemed to be made of sand. It glinted and sparkled as I moved it.

“This is amazing,” I enthused.

Flynn hung his head, not looking at me, but I could tell my appreciation of his artwork made him happy.

“It’s so you can remember coming to the beach. All of those other sculptures were of places you’ve never been. You’ve been here now. You should have a sculpture of a place you’ve actually seen,” he said, a hint of joy in his voice.

I curled my fingers around the tiny sand castle and held it over my heart. “Thank you, Flynn,” I said, my voice cracking and breaking.

Flynn didn’t say anything more, but his soft smile remained on his face.

-Ellie-

We decided to get dinner at the hotel. I didn’t think Flynn would be up to going someplace different. Not when he was just finally settling into his new environment. Even though I was dying to eat at one of the little seafood shacks that dotted the beach, I knew concessions would have to be made.

We left Murphy sleeping in the room and went down to the small bar. Flynn ordered a steak and I got clam chowder with a side of fries. The place was empty, and it was good for Flynn that we were the only customers.

The bartender tried to make polite conversation but soon realized Flynn wasn’t up for chitchat. After Flynn reminded him that he should be working and not talking to people that are trying to eat, the bartender left us to our dinner.

“He was just being nice, Flynn,” I said softly after the bartender left, his cheeks flushed in obvious embarrassment.

Flynn wasn’t concerned in the least for the bartenders hurt feelings. “I’m hungry. I want to eat. I don’t want to talk to someone I don’t know.” He reached out to take a handful of my fries and looked at my face.

“You don’t like it when I do that, do you?” he asked, his hand, filled with fries, hovering over my plate.

“Not really. You have your own food,” I pointed out. Flynn opened his fist and dropped my fries back onto my plate.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and returned to his steak.

“It’s okay,” I said and then took a few of my fries and put them on his plate.

“But I thought you didn’t want me to eat them?” he asked, confused, but picking one up and putting it in his mouth.

“It’s okay if I give them to you, Flynn. Just don’t take them without asking,” I explained.

He liked that explanation and he ended up eating all of my fries anyway.

After we finished our dinner and Flynn had paid a still very put out bartender, we wandered into the lobby.

Flynn seemed ready to head back to the room for the night. But I hated to waste the evening. I couldn’t go back up into the room without sticking my toes into the sand. I needed to feel it for myself. It was time to do a little pushing.

“Flynn, I’d really like to go out to the beach,” I said, bracing myself for his refusal.

Flynn was quiet, his hands shoved into his khakis. “Okay,” he said after a beat.

“Okay?” I asked, hardly able to believe how easy that had been.