IT WAS TIME to go.
“Maggie!” Hank yelled from the parking lot, his voice loud enough to force a flock of seagulls back to the sky. “Let’s go. Now.”
Maggie pretended not to hear. It had been too long since she’d been to the ocean. She’d leave when she was ready.
“Maggie! Don’t make me come down there!”
The ocean spray misted her skin. The tide edged a wave closer to her sandal. Maggie smiled, despite herself. The ocean liked to tease. Another wave… this one soaked her toes. If she stayed another few minutes, she’d be sitting in water.
She absently rubbed her bruised wrist. Despite what Hank said, it was broken.
Everything was broken.
“Goddammit, Maggie.” A car door slammed. The crunch of sand made by expensive shoes. Hank’s shadow fell over her. “I said I was sorry.”
Why does he think that’s enough? Maggie moved to push her hair back, then winced. Wrong hand. “I know.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, what do you want?” Frustration tinged his voice; bullies need privacy, and the beach wasn’t private. “Get up, or stay here. I’m leaving.”
“Then leave.” Maggie turned her face to the sun. “I want a divorce.”
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