Chapter 19 Wren
Nineteen
Wren
The beach buzzes with life, the sound of laughter and the crackle of sparklers blending with the steady, rhythmic rush of
waves slapping against the shore. We’ve found a quieter spot farther down, tucked behind a brush of grass that offers at least
the illusion of privacy. Above us, the last traces of daylight are slipping away, leaving the sky a vast, endless stretch
of black, waiting for the first spark of color to ignite it.
Tate spots the girls first, or more precisely, the pizza boxes they’re carrying. He jumps to his feet, kicking sand in his
haste, and laughing when I shout after him in annoyance.
It’s good to hear him laugh that easily. The past few weeks have been a little strained between us, but tonight? It feels
like we’re okay again. I never told him I’d tried—and failed—to convince Dad to change his mind about pulling me from the
tour. I haven’t mentioned it to Lili either. As far as she knows, Tate’s been helping me practice. I doubt either one of them
will bring it up tonight, but eventually, I’ll have to. For now, though, I focus on their familiar shapes, drawing closer.
I pick out Eryn easily, her silhouette etched against the fading light as she repeatedly bats Tate’s hand away from the pizza box. Then Lili, smoothly reaching up to pluck his captain’s hat off his head and tossing it like a frisbee into the grass.
I’m still watching her, a half smile playing on my lips, when Tate plops down beside me. He follows my gaze, then looks back
at me with a sly grin. “You know your girlfriend is the one on the left, right?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Don’t be an idiot.”
“I’m just saying.” He shrugs, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You looked a little lost there for a second. And it’s not the
first time I’ve noticed.” He pulls his hat back onto his head, his smirk fully fading. “Might want to be careful. Could be
someone else gets confused, too.”
I brush the sand off my hands. The cool night air does little to calm the warmth creeping up my neck. That’s not what’s happening,
not with me and not with anyone else.
When Eryn reaches us, I grab her hand, pulling her down beside me. I don’t even glance at Lili when she sits across from us.
Tate, now fully in food mode, doesn’t notice either way. A whale could suddenly beach itself right in front of us and he wouldn’t
care. He laces his fingers together and stretches them out in front of him before snatching the pizza box out of Lili’s hands
as she’s opening it.
“Seriously?” she says.
He shoves an entire slice into his mouth, accordion style, and grins at her.
Lili deliberately lifts her eyes to his hat. “Didn’t that used to have a golden anchor pinned to it?” Her voice is smooth, laced with playful mischief. “Oh no, did it fall off in the grass?”
“What!?” Tate chokes out, because if there’s one thing that could possibly distract him from his stomach, it’s his hat. Or
maybe his boat.
“She’s kidding,” Eryn says quickly, taking pity on him.
Still, Tate doesn’t relax until he checks, yanking his hat off and then sighing with relief before giving Lili a mock salute.
“I’m starting to see you now, Tourist Girl.”
The nickname hangs in the air, and in the rising moonlight, Lili’s green eyes meet mine, brief and sharp, like the quick crest
of a wave before it crashes. She drops her eyes to the pizza box and leans forward to grab a slice.
I don’t plan to spend any time tonight analyzing why exactly I don’t like Tate calling her Tourist Girl.
Eryn leans slightly into my side, her face lifted toward the sky, waiting for the fireworks to start.
Tate’s and Lili’s voices filter through the darkness, a steady rhythm of banter. He makes her laugh a few times, a light and
airy sound, though I can tell she’s trying not to. I wonder if he’ll ask her out after tonight. He’d talk nonstop about his
boat, oblivious to how even the topic of being out on the water makes her ill.
“Am I leaning on you too much?” Eryn shifts her head, tilting up to catch my eyes.
“Hmm? No, you’re fine.”
“You just went really stiff.” She pulls back slightly, her eyes searching mine, waiting for an explanation.
Guilt crashes over me. What would it matter if he asked her out?
Maybe they’ll bond over food or something non–ocean related, and find they have a ton of things in common.
But even as I think this, I notice that Lili is methodically plucking off her pizza the black olives that Tate insisted on, and that I have a similar pile of olives next to me.
“I’m fine,” I say, forcing my muscles to relax, refocusing on the moment. I watch as Eryn smiles softly at me, then up at
the sky, her face lit by the first burst of fireworks.
The air booms and crackles as colors explode in a kaleidoscope of light reflecting off the water and shimmering across the
shore. I’ve never cared much about the Fourth of July show, but I lift the arm not bracing me, inviting her to lean in more
fully. She does, her body fitting easily against mine, and I pull her closer, a gesture so automatic it feels like breathing.
While I try to focus on the fireworks, it’s Lili’s laughter that draws my attention again and again. It’s light but constant,
like the flickering of fireflies, and impossible to ignore.
After the finale crescendos some time later, Tate’s voice pulls me back to the present. “Looks like Cinderella’s done with
the ball.” He nods toward Eryn, who has slumped against me, her breathing slow and steady.
I run a hand over her arm, shaking her gently.
“Did I fall asleep again?” she murmurs, blinking as she checks her watch. “I’m sorry, I always do this. I had to be at the
café at 4:30 this morning.” She yawns, jaw cracking as she stretches. “And again tomorrow.”
Tate and Lili join me in reassuring her it’s fine as we begin to gather our things.
There’s a moment when Lili pauses, her brow furrowing. The blanket is folded under Eryn’s arm, Tate is throwing away the last of the trash, and I’m still sitting in the sand. “Stupid question, but where is your wheelchair?”
Tate’s head snaps up, eyes darting around. “Wait, where is it? You don’t think . . .” His eyes bulge. “. . . grand theft wheelchair?”
“Wheelchairs and sand don’t really go together,” I tell her. “I left it in the truck, but I’ve got my trusty pack mule over
there to help me get here and back.”
“That’s Mr. Pack Mule to you,” Tate says, squatting down in front of me so I can grab a hold of his shoulders. He hoists my
legs up piggyback style, then takes off at a run. “I’m calling shotgun!”
When we pull up to Eryn’s house after dropping Tate off, I watch through the rearview mirror as she gives Lili a hug in the
backseat before stepping out of the truck.
“Still on for lunch tomorrow?” she asks, turning to me.
I nod, reaching out the window to take her hand and tug her closer. My eyes trace the familiar contours of her face, and I
remind myself that her hand was the first to find mine when the doctors told me I’d never walk again, and that throughout
that first year, when all I wanted to do was give up, she never once let me let go.
She tucks her hair behind her ear, lowering her head slightly, as if my gaze is too intense.
I lean in and kiss her, holding it long enough to feel her cheeks warm under my touch and see her flush when I pull away.
I’m not usually big on public displays of affection, but I needed to remind myself that I’d be every kind of fool to risk
losing her.
She steps back, dragging out the contact of our fingers so that it looks like I’m reaching for her by the time we let go. I’m still staring after her as she turns then hurries inside her house.
Until Lili’s voice breaks my focus.
“You don’t mind if I sit up front, do you?” she asks, already climbing up between the seats before she finishes talking.
I do mind. The front seat of my truck is decently large, but I was less aware of her when she was behind me.
She sighs in the relative silence as we drive, smiling softly to herself.
“Something funny?” I ask.
“Not funny, just good. Today felt like stepping back into a memory. The water fight, the fireworks.” She smiles brighter even
as her eyes lose their focus. “It was the first day since my dad died that it didn’t hurt to think about him.”
I don’t answer right away. Our parents, our losses—they’re not the same.
“You don’t mind that we missed an entire day of researching?” I ask.
From the corner of my eye, I see Lili turn. “I didn’t even think about that.” There’s a hint of surprise in her voice, as
though the realization just struck her. She checks her phone.
“Any word on your sister?”
Her voice sounds heavier now. “Goldie wasn’t up for going outside to see the fireworks. My mom’s hoping she’ll fall asleep
before they run out of Avengers movies to watch.”
“Maybe you can bring her back next year,” I offer, not sure where the words come from.
Lili lets out a humorless laugh. “My mom was pretty adamant that this is a one-time thing. That’s why I’ve been pushing so hard on the Kezia stuff. I don’t get another shot here.”
I slow the truck to a stop, pulling back on the handbrake, an impulse rising that I probably shouldn’t act on. “It’s not that
late. We could still get some work done if you want.”
Her voice comes out quiet, hopeful. “Really?”
Then I remember. “No wait, the museum is closed.”
“Don’t you have keys?”
“Normally, but Tate is opening tomorrow, so I gave them to him.”
She leans back against her seat, visibly deflated.
“We could just work here.” The words slip out before I can catch them. “Like that night when we were working on the tour speech?”
“Did you show it to your dad yet?”
I shake my head. “I’m still going over a few things.”
She gives me an exasperated look but doesn’t push. Instead, she seems to consider my offer. “I guess there’s no reason we
couldn’t work for a little while.”
My pulse spikes, a mix of nerves and . . . relief. Quickly followed by the sinking realization that this is the opposite of
what I should be doing. “No, wait. I forgot we left everything at the museum.”
She rummages through the bag that she brings everywhere and doesn’t see how my whole body tenses. If I’d just kissed my girlfriend
goodnight, gone home, and gone to bed, I wouldn’t be watching Lili’s hair fall in front of her face, resisting the urge to
brush it back.
I don’t want this—these thoughts, this constant awareness, the growing desire to be around her and know what she’s thinking.
The only thing keeping me from driving straight to her house is the knowledge that this is all on me. Lili isn’t stealing
glances at me or wondering what I think about a song or a book. To her, I’m a research partner, maybe a friend, and her new
friend’s boyfriend.
And I am that. Eryn’s boyfriend.
I am.
“Should we go to our tree?” she asks, straightening with her tablet and notebook. “You know, where we worked on the tour speech?”
My hand grips on the steering wheel. “I hardly think we can lay claim to it after one night.”
“Well, I don’t remember the street names.”
I do. It’s disturbingly easy to navigate there, almost as if I’ve been waiting for a reason to go back.
I turn down a quiet street lined with thick trees and park under their canopy. She hands me her notebook and unlocks her tablet.
“I’ve been looking over a few specific entries in her diary. The pages are in extremely poor condition, but beyond that, the
handwriting looks different.” She lifts the center console, scooting into the narrow middle seat to give me a better view
of the screen. “She normally writes very precisely, same letter height, same word spacing, but these”—she swipes through several
photos and back—“are all almost messy. I mean, look at this one.”
I grab my glasses, willing my attention from Lili to the tablet in her hands. Thankfully, I see her point instantly, and happily
shift into academic mode as I pinch the screen to zoom in. “It is different.”
Lili tugs on her bottom lip, alternating her gaze between me and the tablet. “It’s still her though, right? I mean, it looks like her handwriting, just—”
“—strange, but yeah, it’s still hers. Look at the swoops on the Os and the angle on the Es.” I indicate the letters, and she sighs in relief beside me. “And it’s one of, what, five pages in the entire diary that
your dad didn’t even attempt to transcribe?”
Lili nods intently. “I noticed that too.” Then she looks up, all but brimming with excitement. “I guess it’s up to us.”