“At the bar. Dancing and singing the way you were… you were fun. You were different.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He chuckled. “I just mean that I feel like you’ve been kind of hostile since you got here. And tonight, you were… lively. Light. Carefree.” His eyes found mine in the shadows. “That’s how I remember you.”
The whiskey was swimming loudly in my brain, mixing with the vodka and tequila and beer and God knows what else was still hanging around in there. I warmed from the inside out, my thoughts fuzzy.
But my stomach dropped at his words, and a cold sweat prickled on my skin.
I threw back the last of my whiskey — which wasn’t much, but still too much for a single sip, and felt more like a shot. Then, I stood.
“I should head back up there.”
Tyler scrambled to his feet, opening his mouth just like he had in the bar, like he had something to say.
But he was silent.
I swallowed, turning, but two steps down the dock and he finally spoke.
“You’re in your head tonight.”
I paused, waiting, but kept my back to him as my pulse kicked up a notch. How could he tell?
“I saw it when you were on the bar, and again when you were sitting at the fire. You’re hurting.”
My head dropped, heart sinking with it as I tried to find my argument.
Then, a gentle touch brushed my elbow, and I zeroed in on the way his fingers wrapped around my arm.
“It’s because of what day it is, isn’t it?”
His words were just a whisper, but they might as well have been a blood-curdling scream for how my heart raced in my chest at the sound of them. I followed the line of his arm up to his shoulders, his neck, his jaw, noting the way it was tense before my eyes found his in the darkness.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I lied, swallowing the sour taste of the words down.
Tyler’s brows tugged together, his lips parting slightly, but then he released his grip on my arm, taking a full step back.
We watched each other for a long moment, and part of me longed to take it back, to tell him he was right, that it was the haunting of June eighth that had me fucked up. I wanted to tell him that it did this to me every year, that every year on this day I thought back to the last time I saw my mother, to the day she abandoned me for good.
And that I thought back to him, too — to that day in his room, to the way his skin was hot and sticky with sunscreen, to the way his lips were warm on mine, to the way it felt to be touched by him.
But what was the point?
He hadn’t been able to heal the wound my mother left. No one could do that but me. And when it came to what happened between me and him, it was even more pointless to bring up.
Because he’d taken it all back.
He’d said it was a mistake, that he was sorry, that he never meant for it to happen.
A day that had killed me and also brought me to life within hours meant nothing to him. It meant nothing to him — that he’d comforted me, touched me, kissed me, ruined me. It meant nothing to him that he’d made me feel more loved than I ever had in my entire life right after I’d convinced myself love wasn’t real, and then he’d ripped it away the very next day, taking everything I cherished along with it.
Tyler Wagner had scarred me.
And I didn’t need to remind myself of that anymore than I already did.
I tore my eyes from his, and a soft sort of awareness swept over me the farther away I got. Jacob — my boyfriend — knew everything about me, including everything about how my mother left and what it did to me.
Why hadn’t he asked if I was okay this morning when we talked?
Why did Tyler remember the day, but my own boyfriend didn’t?
I ignored the stupid questions — because that was exactly what they were: stupid. Jacob was the sweetest, most caring man I’d ever known. So what if he didn’t remember the exact day. Who would?
I didn’t let myself answer that question, either, wrapping my hands around my empty glass as I made my way down the dock.
When I hit the end of it, Tyler murmured something behind me, something I couldn’t quite make out against the breeze and the soft chirps of insects surrounding us.
Something that sounded a lot like It hurts me, too.
I didn’t get up at five the next morning to go for my run.
Instead, I peeled myself out of my warm sheets somewhere around eight, and did more of a walk slash jog for half the distance I usually ran. Still, I broke a sweat easily enough — even if half of it seemed to be the booze from the night before — and though it was just slightly north of torture, the movement helped me feel better.
I headed straight for the kitchen when I got back to the Wagner’s, chest covered with a sheen of sweat as I grabbed a glass and filled it with water. The few cars that had still been in the front yard when I left were gone now, so I imagined it was just me and the Wagners once again.
I chugged the first glass of water quickly before refilling it, and then I turned, finding Robert and Tyler sitting at the bar.
Both of them were holding a newspaper.
But one of them was staring at me over the top of it.
“Morning, sunshine,” Mr. Wagner said, smiling as he flipped the page. “How ya feeling this morning?”
“Rough,” I said, and as soon as the word left my mouth, my eyes shot open. “Oh, God.”
My hand flew to my throat, heart quickening with panic at the sound of my hoarse voice.
“No,” I said, trying to clear my throat and the hoarseness along with it. “No, no, no.”
“Too much karaoke, huh?” Robert teased, but my eyes met Tyler’s, who was watching me with genuine concern as I freaked out.
It probably was the karaoke, singing at the top of my lungs on stage and screaming along with anyone else singing when I was in the crowd. Plus, I’d drank — a lot — and sat around a smoky fire all night.
I closed my eyes on a sigh, pressing my hand to my forehead. “Shit.”
“Don’t worry, your voice will be back to new in a few days, I’m sure,” Robert promised.
“I don’t have a few days,” I whined, letting my hand fall to my thigh. “I’m supposed to record a podcast tomorrow.”
“Can you postpone it?”
I scoffed. “I was lucky enough to even be invited to guest speak at all.” I shook my head. “They run a tight ship, there’s no way they’d be able to reschedule me. If I don’t make this recording…”
“They’ll fill your spot,” Tyler finished for me.
I grimaced, burying my face in my hands.
“You need to rest it,” Tyler said, laying his newspaper down. “And drink a lot of water.” He was out of his chair in the next second. “I think Mom has a humidifier in the closet upstairs, let me grab it.”
“I can’t rest today,” I pointed out as he made his way out of the kitchen. He didn’t stop to listen though, and I threw a thumb over my shoulder at him, looking to his father, instead. “Does he not realize I’m the maid of honor in a wedding that’s going down in twelve days?”
Robert smirked, licking his thumb before he turned the page again. And before he could answer, his daughter blew into the kitchen, grabbing me in her hands and giving me a once over with concerned eyes.