Chapter 16
Now
When we finally arrive at the trailhead, the sun is just beginning to sneak over the treetops, showering us all in a Dreamsicle filter. In the distance, looming green hillsides rise above the canopy of trees, framed in a haze of early morning mist.
We’re all given a water bottle and told again to watch out for spiders (yikes), then we’re off, traipsing down the muddy path as Mikayla regales us with legends about Mauian history and culture.
“Roslyn, dear,” Grammy says, falling in step beside me. It’s amazing what great shape she’s in. All that water aerobics must be paying off. “I’m worried about Liam getting sunburnt. He has such fair skin and all. You should put some sunscreen on him.”
Of course the Official Liam Fan Club is worried about his poor fair complexion.
“He’s fine,” I tell her.
Bella gawks. “Not wearing sunscreen? In this economy?”
All the blood instantly evaporates from my veins. There definitely isn’t a good time to hear your Gen Z sister drop your and your ex’s safe word. But it’s absolutely not after getting hot and bothered from sitting on his lap. And not when you’re pretending to still be together.
Liam, who is mid-drink from his water bottle, breaks into a coughing fit.
“Dear, are you okay?” Grammy asks.
Liam pounds his fist against his sternum. “Yup. All good,” he adds, his face turning red.
I look away, not daring to meet his eye.
Okay, so he definitely remembers. Then again, who can forget all the times he had me pinned down, naked and breathless. Certainly not me.
“I don’t know what sunscreen has to do with the economy, but Bella’s right, you need to reapply sunscreen or you’ll burn,” Grammy says, handing me a bottle. “Make sure he gets his back, Roslyn.”
I take the sunscreen and approach Liam. “Your fan club is worried about you getting sunburnt.”
He looks down at the bottle then back at me, before pulling the hem of his shirt up and over his head.
I swallow tightly, forcing my eyes away from his pecs. And his abs. The V-shaped thing disappearing into his shorts suddenly feels like a personal attack.
When my gaze mercifully makes it back up to his, Liam’s watching me expectantly and I realize he’s waiting for me to apply the sunscreen.
“I’m not putting it on you,” I whisper.
“I can’t do my own back.”
Ugh. This must be karma for all the lying.
“Fine,” I whisper. “But I’m only doing one layer.”
As I squeeze a dollop of sunscreen into my palm and begin rubbing it over his broad shoulders, I do everything I can to dissociate.
I think about my next dentist appointment.
If the milk I bought before I left will still be good when I get back.
Anything but the terrain of familiar, warm skin stretched across broad shoulders and tightly knotted back muscles.
But it’s still not enough to prevent the full-body jolt when I see it.
Or perhaps more accurately, I remember that it’s there.
The tattoo on the back of his left shoulder.
The same one I have in the same place. A quote from my debut novel.
We didn’t plan to get matching tattoos. But it was the night of my book release and we were celebrating with a bottle of gin, and before we knew it, we were both at Sleeve It to Me, Seattle’s most popular tattoo studio.
Two hours later, we walked out with Forever isn’t long enough when it’s with someone you love inked into our shoulders.
I used to think it was romantic. A permanent symbol of our enduring love. But now it’s like looking at the crumbling remains of a once powerful and mighty civilization. A reminder of everything we lost. Or maybe what we never had to begin with.
“Everything okay?” Liam asks, and I realize I’ve been rubbing sunscreen on the same spot over and over.
I clear my throat. “Um, yeah,” I tell him. “Fine.”
But he looks over his shoulder anyway, following my focus down to his tattoo then back up. Our gazes meet, and I instantly feel transparent. Like all the hurt I’ve tried so hard to hide is as bold and obvious as a highway billboard.
I should probably feel embarrassed. After all, I don’t want him to know how hard this is for me, how painful even just looking at his tattoo is, not when he’s so fine.
But his eyes soften, an unguarded look sweeping his expression, and I can’t help but wonder if he feels it too.
This punch to the gut of emotion. If behind all the clenched jaws and pursed lips, he’s not as fine as he seems.
The moment lasts a beat longer before he turns around and I resume applying the sunscreen. As soon as Liam’s glistening like a glazed donut and Grammy is satisfied with my sunscreen application, we continue on the hike.
Of course, Bella and Chris—adventure junkies that they are—sprint off, leading the crew, while Jonah, easily the most competitive person I know, tries to keep up. But the duties of fatherhood keep him in the middle of the pack with Grammy, Gramps, Ben, and the kids.
Liam and I are last, but I know that’s my fault. Because not only am I hungover as fuck, but I’m also vastly out of shape.
I’ve never been an active gym-goer, but since my mom passed, my exercise regimen has consisted of moving from the bed to the couch and back to the bed.
So it’s no surprise to me that a mere ten minutes into our ascent, I’m already a huffing, puffing, sweaty mess, while Mr. Personal Trainer isn’t even breaking a sweat.
“Are you okay?” Liam asks, pausing a few paces ahead.
“Super,” I wheeze.
“We can stop and take a break if you want.”
“I said I’m fine,” I bite back, a new kind of determination swelling inside me.
My lungs might feel like overinflated balloons right now, but I need to complete this hike. I need to prove to myself and to everyone else that I’m truly as fine as I keep saying I am. Besides, I can’t let two six-year-olds beat me. Jonah will never let me hear the end of that.
The twins rush ahead, picking up sticks while their fathers yell after them to put that down at least three million times. Henleigh gets tired and asks Jonah to carry her because my legs don’t like this, as she puts it.
Same girl, same.
Jonah stops and holds his backpack out to me. “Can you hold this? While I carry her?”
By the time I’ve got the bag and Jonah’s picked up Henleigh, the rest of the crew are a few paces ahead, leaving Jonah and me in the back.
As we walk in silence, I’m increasingly aware that it’s been ages since Jonah and I have been alone, and I don’t know what to say to him.
Finally, I ask, “So how have you been?”
“Busy,” he says gruffly. “Ben just got promoted to head of the cardiology department and is working more than ever. The twins just started soccer and Henleigh is going to school next month and Ben thought it would be great to join the PTA, as if we don’t have enough on our plates right now,” he adds, making a face.
I wonder if he’ll say something about how hard it’s been since Mom died, or even how he wishes Mom was here to see the kids get so big—something to acknowledge the giant gaping hole that is her absence—but he doesn’t, and I wonder if he feels the same quiet relief Bella does without her here.
“Wow, school already,” I say. “She’s getting so big.”
Henleigh’s eyes are now closed, thumb shoved into her tiny mouth, and my chest aches a little bit at how the months have flown by since I saw her last. How many dance recitals and fridge-worthy crayon drawings have I missed?
“I miss the kids,” I tell him. “I should come see them sometime.”
“You should,” he agrees. “I had to remind Henleigh that you were her aunt when she asked me who the lady with curly hair was.”
“It hasn’t been that long,” I say, almost defensively.
Jonah gives me a look. “We’ve barely seen you in the last year, Roslyn. That’s a long time when you’re four.”
Guilt spreads in my chest, heavy and achy.
“Sorry,” I say quietly. “Just got a lot going on.”
Jonah looks me up and down, his eyes softening ever so slightly. “Is everything okay?” he asks.
The words dangle on the tip of my tongue. I’m not okay. I’ve been miserable since Mom died. I feel isolated in my grief. I hate that my niece doesn’t remember me. I feel like everyone has moved on except me.
But I don’t think uptight, too-busy-for-feelings Jonah will understand, so I stow my carefully packaged grief where no one else can see it. Where I can continue to pretend I’m okay, just like everyone else seems to be.
“Just tired,” I tell him. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” My gaze cuts ahead to Liam, now effortlessly carrying both Jackson and Riley, one in each arm. Show-off.
“Well, try and get some sleep tonight,” Jonah says. He gives me one more look before taking the bag and zipping ahead toward the kids.
After he sets the kids down, Liam falls back in step with me. We trek along mostly in silence, avoiding each other’s gaze until he nudges my elbow and asks, “Everything all right?”
“Terrific,” I say tightly, wondering which Hawaiian gods I have to make a sacrifice to for people to stop asking me that.
“How’s your headache? Any better?”
“Not really.”
“Do you need snacks? I brought the granola bars if you’re hungry.”
I stop in my tracks, eyes cutting to his. “What’s going on with you?”
He stops too. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean, why are you suddenly being nice?”
His eyes widen, surprised, before narrowing into a frown. “You seem like you’re having a tough morning. I’m just trying to be helpful.”
I sense I’ve offended him in some way, but I don’t care. I’m annoyed that I’m a hot mess while he’s fine.
“I don’t need your help,” I say with a huff. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah,” he says tightly. “You keep saying that.”
“Well, I am!” I say loud enough that a flock of birds takes flight from a tree nearby.
His brow scrunches. “Fine. Don’t accept my help. Can I have some of your water?”
“Seriously? We just left and you already drank yours?”
He shrugs. “I got thirsty.”