Chapter Thirty-One
“Pea?” Mom’s gentle voice pulls me from my dreamless—and pretty terrible—sleep, and I squint in the bright light of the morning as I peek one eye out from underneath my comforter.
She’s standing in the doorway, already dressed in crisp linen pants and a soft-looking sweater, her face freshly washed and glowing—all indicators that I’ve slept in way later than I planned.
I swear I dreamed hearing our doorbell as I crawled out of my murky dreamland, too, but that was probably just a UPS delivery.
“Olive?” she prompts again when I don’t answer, eliciting a weak mumble from me as a response. And then what she says next stops my blood cold: “There’s someone at the door for you. Delia—”
Okay, so that was not a UPS delivery.
“What?” Delia’s here, which means maybe I’ve been given my chance to apologize in person, and my second thought is that the clock on my nightstand says it’s almost noon and my room smells sweaty and stale, my hair is undoubtedly sticking up all over the place, and I most certainly have morning breath. Mom’s face gives nothing away, though.
“Tell her I’ll be right down,” I blurt, launching out of bed and hurriedly trying to comb down my hair and tug on a pair of sweatpants. “I just…Give me a second.”
A bemused look crosses Mom’s face as I flail around my room, but she nods with a small smile and closes the door.
As soon as she does, I finish yanking the sweatpants up over my hips, throw on my favorite worn-in hoodie, and scramble to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
I’m in such a rush to get downstairs that I leave my mane of hair in a jumbled tangle on my head, hoping a few mere finger-brushes will do the trick but inherently knowing that the effort is futile.
“Where’s Delia?” I call out as I head toward the door, surprised that she isn’t standing in the foyer.
Mom isn’t typically one to leave guests standing outside, and even though it’s been a while since Delia’s been around, she’s always treated this place like a second home.
Probably an even more accepting one than where she resides with her parents, if we’re being honest.
“About that.” Mom’s in the kitchen, puttering around, and when she sees me reach for the door, I hear her stop the running water at the sink and take a deep breath. “Wait a second. Olive, you should know—”
But I’m not listening, already pulling the door open, revealing the face of the last person I thought I’d ever see again.
Tyler’s eyes scan my hoodie, widening in surprise. “So that’s where my Grateful Dead hoodie went.”
I hear Mom sigh behind us and go back to washing the dishes.
I don’t know what to do first—I want to hug Tyler, shake him, question why he went silent. I want to beg for his forgiveness and throw my arms around his neck and breathe in his scent and press my lips to his over and over and over again.
So, naturally, I do none of those things.
Instead, I zero in on the sweatshirt comment.
“I can’t help that it’s been washed to perfection and is now the perfect amount of soft.
” I cross my arms over my chest self-consciously, tilting my chin up to at least hide my embarrassment and the heat rushing to my face.
But I also can’t ignore the happy flare of excitement sparkling in my blood, followed closely by a warmth blooming in my chest. He is your home, my heart and my brain both whisper to me, in sync for once in my life. Your “home” is home.
Tyler nods mock-seriously, clearly trying to bite back a smile. “And what did Mr. Two First Names have to say about it?”
“Nothing.” Because I kept this tucked in the back of my closet whenever he was around.
Which is probably something I should investigate later.
But right now, I turn and flash my mother an accusing glare over my shoulder, where she’s resting against the sink with one eyebrow raised.
“What are you doing here? My mom told me that Delia was here.”
“No, I didn’t,” she chimes in unhelpfully from the kitchen. “I was trying to tell you that Delia texted me and said that Tyler was dropping by, but you took off like a bullet before I had a chance to stop you.” She winks at Tyler over my shoulder. “Nice to see you again, sweetheart. Been a while.”
He waves sheepishly at Mom. “It’s nice to see you, too, Sherri.”
“Anyway.” I clear my throat, stepping out onto the front steps and shutting the door behind us to cut off Mom, willing my pulse to calm back down to a normal rate.
“Why…why are you here?” But even though I ask, we both know, those words I first texted on a whim hanging in the air between us.
If I did the math right and you’re coming back tonight, can you stop over on your way home?
Tyler takes a slow, shaky breath, and it dawns on me that I’m not the only one spiraling out from nerves right now.
“I’ve been thinking since you left. And I have something to show you.
” He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his camera roll until he lands on what he’s searching for, flipping the screen so I can see better.
It’s a close-up photo of what looks like wood, a tiny heart scratched into the surface. Instantly, I recognize it.
“You went back to take a picture of the picnic table where we got lunch?” I try not to sound confused, but I’m sure he senses it, anyway. This is Tyler we’re talking about. “Why?”
“Because”—he zooms in even further, presenting me the heart—“I went back there.”
I squint at the screen, searching for the J + M initials that I’d traced my finger over that day. But to my surprise, that’s not what’s there. Carved inside the little heart is the word To.
“To?” I glance up at Tyler, brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean? To who?”
Tyler shakes his head, exasperated, and jabs his finger at the phone. “Look closer.” And there, nestled in between the two letters, is a tiny plus sign.
The heart doesn’t say To. It says T + O.
Oh.
Oh.
“But…what?” The realization has my head spinning.
“Why…how? We weren’t…We hadn’t…” My mind runs through every moment of that day, the hard heart-to-heart we had at the Rainbow Drive-In.
There was no moment where Tyler could’ve done that when we were together.
Which means he went back and purposefully etched those letters there.
But that would’ve been long before he showed up on my doorstep; before I told him everything I was feeling.
Luckily, Tyler doesn’t keep me guessing for long.
“The day you left, I went there on my way back. I just…I needed a place to think, and it was nice to have some loco moco to deal with the heartache. Seems to be a theme of ours.” We both laugh at this, but then his cheeks redden bashfully and he looks away from me.
“I did it on a whim. I didn’t mean to—I didn’t even notice that I sat at the same table until I saw the other heart.
But I had to put it out there into the universe.
I had to…I had to hope. Because I’ve never stopped loving you, Ol, but I’m sure you know that by now.
” He smiles wryly. “And call me hopeful, or delusional, or whatever you want, but I think that you haven’t stopped loving me, either. ”
“I never stopped.” The honesty surprises us both, Tyler’s eyes widening.
“Which is why I wanted to talk to you. Seeing you those few days, Ty…it was a gift. More than I think I knew until I came home and realized how empty my life was without you.” I swallow and watch his face, which remains unchanged, and I’m not sure if that’s a good sign or a bad one.
“And it took some verbal beatings over the head from a few different people to finally see it. Namely, Delia.” When he barks out an amused laugh, I take another deep breath and continue.
“I spent all this time running away from us without realizing that we’re what I should’ve been running toward.
I was wrong for implying that you weren’t good enough to be with me.
It was the opposite—you’re a better person than I could ever imagine.
It’s me who has to do the work to be good enough for us now.
“I was stupid,” I sob, ugly, snotty tears trailing down my face.
“I was stupid and selfish and scared. I tried so hard to protect myself from heartbreak that I caused it instead. And I can’t even begin to express how sorry I am for that.
And I can’t take it back. All I can do is be better, and to start letting myself chase after the things that make me happy.
And it’s you.” I wipe my eyes with an embarrassing sniffle.
“It’s you that makes me happy. It always has been. ”
Tyler’s still standing across from me, his expression shifting to shell-shocked.
Which, honestly, I can’t blame him for after that massive emotional dump.
My eyes skim over the picture again, staring hard at the two little letters carved into the heart.
My own heart feels so sore it could burst, overwhelmed with emotion—as if he had carved those letters in my own chest.
“Ty,” I whisper, heart softening. “What are we doing? Is it worth all of this?” I gesture between us, at our rapidly beating hearts and blushing faces and the nerves that are eating us both alive.
“Do you really think we’ll be able to find some way to meet in the middle?
That you could forgive me for all the shitty mistakes I’ve made? ”
“I mean, yeah.” He shrugs. “I’d do anything for you, Ol.”
Another laugh-sob rips from my chest. “I know. I heard all about the failed accounting course.”
His cheeks pinken. “All right, all right, I’ll admit that wasn’t one of my finest moments. I was just desperate to get the girl of my dreams back.”
“She’s worth taking a stupid online accounting course for?
I wouldn’t have even wanted you to do that.
” Even as the words leave my mouth, they give me pause.
Because Tyler’s proven that he’s willing to meet me in the middle—and I feel the rush of shame that it’s taken me so long to feel ready to do the same.
Tyler scoffs, stepping forward and lacing his fingers through mine.
“Olive Austin,” he declares, voice no longer shaking, but steady and sure.
“You’re worth everything. And you must’ve actually knocked your head on those cliffs at China Walls if you thought for a second that I wouldn’t forgive you.
” And before I can even open my mouth to answer, he stamps his lips on mine, and everything comes rushing back.
The airport, the salt-speckled air, the sunshine and runny egg yolks and security-line kisses.
Part of me wonders what stickers I’d use on my planner’s pages to document everything that’s coming—more dates with Tyler.
All the milestones we’ll achieve together.
But then I think back to that morning in Lucas and Ella’s house, getting ready for our adventure day and swearing that things were going to change.
New Olive sometimes hands things to the universe to decide her fate.
And you know what? Maybe it’s fine to wing it every once in a while.
“I thought not everyone gets a fairy-tale romance?” It’s hard to get the question out as I’m being peppered with kisses along my eyelids, my cheekbones, the tip of my nose.
Tyler presses his mouth against my ear in a way that evokes shivers across every part of my body. “We didn’t. Not the first time.” He nips my ear and I have to swallow back a squeak as he continues. “But I’d say we definitely got it right the second time around.”
And in this moment, in the arms of the boy I never stopped loving, excited chills running down my spine, it clicks.
He’s right. And I’ve never been more grateful for second chances.
I think of my lunch with Delia, with her sharp words that weren’t wrong—that there’s a middle ground here, somewhere, for the both of us, if we both are willing to find it.
Tyler’s lips feather mine for a few more seconds before he pulls back and his eyes search mine imploringly, love and excitement and a little bit of worry flitting across his face.
“Olive.” His voice is strained, the panic of our second—or, I guess, third—impending implosion written all over his face. “Say something. Anything. Just please…please say something.”
I don’t even need to think about it. I open the door behind us—for Tyler, for his sweet smile, for our future. “Do you want to come in?”