Chapter Six #4
“It really was sad,” Stevie said, but they were both smiling at each other over the fire. “I mean, look at us.” Soft laughter went around the fire.
“It was sad. But it only took a week or so for us to realize that we had no chemistry because we were meant to be best friends.”
“Exactly,” Stevie said. “And we have been ever since.” She sat back. “Three months later, Ro introduced me to Sara.”
“And the rest is history,” Rowan said. She held up her glass and Stevie held up her bottle and they cheered each other from across the flames.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way. I love that we have each other.
Stevie’s been a godsend these past months.
” She met Stevie’s eye. “Thank you, my friend.” And she meant it with her whole heart.
“That might be the best story of friendship I’ve ever heard,” Jazzy said, and the others nodded and murmured their agreement.
Next to her, Evie leaned a shoulder into Rowan, knowing the story well. “I’m glad you have her,” she said, and Rowan wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she simply gave one nod.
Becca returned, guitar in hand. “Who’s up for a little campfire music?”
Rowan loved the sound of an acoustic guitar, and it had been a long time since she’d seen Becca play, so she settled in.
Jasmine’s eyes were filled with wonder and anticipation, telling Rowan that she also loved when Becca played.
Those two really seemed to fit. Becca could be a bit…
unpolished at times. Kind of fourteen-year-old boy-like, but Jazzy seemed to take it all in stride and adored her anyway, and Rowan loved that for her friend.
“I’ve learned some new stuff just for this trip.” Becca strummed a few chords, twisted the knobs at the top to tune, then strummed again, and before long, they were all singing “August” by Taylor Swift together.
“Amazing,” Lizzie said. “Who knew we had an entire houseful of Swifties?”
Becca strummed the opening of a new song, and had to make adjustments twice. “This is for the piano, so it’s hard to get it right, but…”
Soon Rowan was humming along to “Coffee” by Chappell Roan.
“Ro, how do you know these songs?” Lizzie asked. “Don’t they fall into your amnesia window?”
Rowan grinned. “I love that you call it that. I mean, yeah, they do, but I’ve listened to music since my accident. I had time to learn songs a second time, but I’m sure if Becca played something lesser known from the past couple of years, it would be new to me.”
Lizzie seemed amazed. “That’s so crazy.”
“Welcome to my world.” Rowan shrugged.
Becca played a few more tunes, and then things seemed to die down.
Conversation drifted off into silence, and one by one, they said their good nights, headed inside, and went off to bed.
Upstairs in her room, Rowan felt restless.
It was unusual—normally by this time of night, she was dead on her feet.
Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the music or the conversation.
Maybe it was the close proximity to Evie all night.
But something was keeping her brain buzzing, so she opened the French doors in her room and went out to sit on the deck.
Dwelling on everything in her head probably wasn’t the best way to invite sleep, but she couldn’t help it.
She didn’t last long out there once the mosquitoes found her.
Back in her room, she dug out her journal.
She’d been diligent with it for the first month or two of her recovery.
Her therapist had suggested it as a way to keep track of things she remembered, things that came to her suddenly.
It also sometimes helped to trigger more recovered memories.
This time, though, the entry wasn’t about that.
It wasn’t about lost memories, it was about now, present day, current times.
It was about Evie. How it felt to sit so close to her.
How being next to her stirred things in Rowan that should be long gone, given they’d broken up nearly two years ago.
Yes, she reminded herself, but in my brain, we only broke up a few months ago.
That was it. That was the logic she needed because now it made sense.
Yes, she’d been told several months ago in the hospital that she and Evie were no longer together, but it was that memory she recovered just a couple days ago—the memory of Evie telling her she didn’t love her anymore—that had done her in.
So as far as her heart was concerned, Evie had destroyed her just this week.
Feeling that weird, pleasant pull toward her only made sense.
Her body still craved Evie. Because of course it did.
Journal closed, she turned out the light and lay on her side so she could see out the windows. She’d taken to sleeping with the curtains open for just that reason, and tonight was partly cloudy, so the moon only reflected on the water in spurts. It was still beautiful, though.
She lay there and tried to think of anything except Evie. Which, of course, only made her think of Evie.
She sighed, pulled the blanket up over her shoulder, and lay there, wide awake.