Chapter 22
NICE PJS
Sera
That evening, I step out of the shower and wrap my freshly washed hair in a towel.
I love campfires, don’t get me wrong, but I hate smelling like one when I go to bed afterward.
I rush through my skincare routine, run a brush through my wet hair, and throw on my sleep bra and underwear.
It’s only then that I realize that my pajamas are still in the dryer from this morning.
I glance around for my phone so I can call my mom to rescue me.
When I don’t find it on the counter, I peek into my room and spot it charging on my nightstand. Crap.
For a few seconds I contemplate wrapping back up in my now-wet towel to make the dash to the laundry room, until I notice Thane’s gray hoodie hanging on the back of the bathroom door.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I throw his amazing-smelling sweatshirt over my head.
It’s the perfect size to cover my butt, but only by a few inches.
I crack open the door and stick my head out, surveying the scene.
As soon as I see that the coast is clear, I tiptoe down the dark hallway, past the loft, and down the stairs.
The lake house is dark except for one dim light glowing in the kitchen.
I pause to listen for anyone awake, and nothing but silence responds.
I dart past and into the laundry room, grab my PJs out of the dryer, and turn to make a run for it back up to the bathroom.
Just as I skirt past the kitchen island, a low, buttery voice scares me out of my skin.
“Are you wearing my hoodie?” Thane asks from the pantry doorway.
I scream in response and hiss, “Make some noise when you’re the only one awake! You scared me!”
“If I made noise when everyone else is sleeping, then I wouldn’t be the only one awake anymore, now would I?”
His eyes dip from mine, down the sweatshirt, and stop at my bare legs. “Nice PJs.”
I pull at the hem and cross my legs at the knees.
“I was stranded in the bathroom. This was my only choice.”
A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. “It was a great one.”
I smack his arm with my hand. “Oh, knock it off.”
He shrugs. “I’m just sayin’, maybe I’ll hide them from you tomorrow, if this is the result.”
My face flushes, and even though I’m barely covered, it’s his words that make me feel exposed. “Rule Number Two, Romeo,” I remind him.
“I’m not flirting,” he says with a charismatic smile. “I’m simply pointing out that this is like the equivalent of when your book character wears the guy’s jersey to his game for the first time.”
“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” I lie. Really, I know exactly what he’s talking about, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Sure you do, Bookstack Baker. I follow your little bookstagram account,” he says, stepping closer to me. “It’s her way of declaring that she’s his.”
I scoff. “I can assure you, this was completely circumstantial. It was either your hoodie or my wet towel.”
“Whatever you say, Fina. I’m choosing to read between the lines on this one.”
“If that’s what helps you sleep at night, knock yourself out with your delusion,” I say in my attempt to step past him.
When he moves in front of me, blocking my escape, I groan in frustration.
“Who is the delusional one here? You spend more time with your fictional book boyfriends than with your real one.”
“First of all, he’s not my boyfriend. And second, I happen to like the escape that reading gives me. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“What exactly are you running from?” he asks, leaning against the island.
“I’m not running from anything, Thane, except maybe you.”
That last part is the most honest I’ve been all weekend.
I am running from him. Well, not so much him in general, but definitely my disruptive feelings for him.
They’re scary and complicated, and I’d much rather avoid them than face them head-on and hurt like that again.
Besides, things are complicated with Bradley showing up.
There’s no way I can allow those dormant Thane-butterflies to have any space in my gut.
“Now why on earth would you need to run from little ol’ me?” he teases.
“Because of exactly this. You don’t have a clue.” In my state of frustration, my tongue runs unbridled, again.
A puzzled look settles on his face. “A clue about what?”
“I can explain it to you a hundred times, but I can’t understand it for you, Thane.”
His eyes dance with amusement and I want to scream. “Are you calling me a dummy, Fina?”
“There’s a difference between being dumb and clueless. You can figure it out. But in order to do so, your two brain cells need to hold hands.”
He laughs. “You talk a big game for someone whose feet don’t touch the floor when she sits down.”
I scowl, and at the same time, I’m biting back a smile so hard my cheeks hurt.
“I thought we called a truce. Our moms don’t want to see us bickering,” he says.
“Our moms are asleep, and you started it!”
“It’s all in fun. I’m just ruffling your feathers.”
I groan. “I don’t want my feathers ruffled! I’m under enough stress with Bradley showing up.”
A serious tone settles between us.
“Are you going to give him another chance?” Thane asks, and his voice falters enough for me to notice.
“I’m not sure what to do about him. I feel like I should at least hear his side of the story…
Maybe… I’m just really confused. I came on this vacation because I needed a break, and all I’ve gotten so far is sparring with you for the past few days, and a surprise visit from the ex who may or may not have cheated on me. ”
Thane’s gaze falls to the floor. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to cause you more stress. I just… miss this sometimes, you know?”
He steps aside, giving me an out. At first, I hesitate.
Is this really how I want to leave this conversation?
Just walk away and leave it dangling between us all week?
No. But I’m even more afraid to confront it because the fallout will be catastrophic.
So, instead of being brave and having the hard conversation, I duck around him and say, “Water under the bridge, T.”
“Not for me, Fina,” his voice strains with a tone of desperation. “Before you go, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about. Do you have a minute?”
“We’d be breaking Rule Number Three: keeping our time together in groups…” I say with the measliest confidence ever.
“Well, I’m tired of breaking Rule Number One. I need to get something off my chest.”
My stomach sinks at the possibility of what he could say, and my need to know outweighs my need to stay ignorant.
I glance down at my outfit, then up at the stairway to my left.
Behind closed doors, everyone in the lake house is asleep—including Bradley.
It’s the perfect time to tie up some loose ends of things left unsaid from the road trip.
Although my heart isn’t ready to be torn open again, I nod.
Maybe once I get answers to some questions I can finally move on.
I slip my pajama shorts on and set the shirt on the counter next to me.
Thane pulls the pack of Oreos from the pantry while I grab the milk and two mugs. “Technically, we already fulfilled this tradition at the Waffle House, but I’m not sure if the mini cookies count,” he says, trying to hide the nervousness behind his smile.
We sit shoulder to shoulder on barstools at the island like no time has passed at all between us. He takes a cookie and swirls it pensively in his milk while I wait in silence for him to begin.
“I think it’s important that you know why I left,” he says slowly.
I dunk my own cookie and watch as the bubbles race to the top of the milk until they stop.
I put all my focus on the Oreo, hoping the stone of dread sitting in my gut will roll away on its own.
“You really don’t owe me any more of an explanation,” I say, then shove my perfectly soaked cookie in my mouth.
“Yes, I do. Because the truth changes everything.”
“If you think it’ll really make a difference, then go ahead.”
Instead of eating his soggy cookie, he sets it down next to his mug on a paper towel. Abandoned. He wipes the milk from his wet fingertips and exhales.
“The night of the accident went down differently than I told the police.”
His words knock the wind out of me.
“You… lied to the police?”
“Yeah, I did.”
I stop chewing and swallow hard.
His eyebrows knit together and I study the subtle scar that stretches from his left eyebrow and into his hairline.
The paramedics said he must’ve hit the mirror or a sun visor somehow, because the windshield where his head would’ve impacted was intact, and the airbags had deployed.
The black-and-blue memories of Thane and Bash rear their ugly heads and I force myself not to entertain them.
Instead, I ground myself by refocusing on his scar.
It’s lighter now, almost undetectable unless you know what to look for.
Mr. Donnelly had the best plastic surgeon in New York stitch up Thane after the accident.
He said he didn’t want Thane to wear the banner of what happened for the rest of his life.
But what he didn’t realize is that the scars Thane has can’t be fixed by even the most skilled of hands.
They run soul-deep, and no surgeon can repair that.
“The night of the accident…”
“Serafina,” Bradley’s voice hisses from the hallway, “what on earth are you doing? It’s after midnight and you’re eating junk food?”
He walks into the room and his attention shoots over to Thane. The standoff that happens between their eyes rivals The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. I’m stuck in the crosshairs of their territorial battle, and I jump off my barstool to defuse the situation.
“It’s a tradition we’ve had since we were kids, Bradley. It’s nothing.”
“Do you know how many calories those cookies have? Not a good idea—especially this late at night,” he says, taking my mug from me and dumping the milk down the drain. He puts my stack of cookies back into the package and shakes his head.
Thane clears his throat to speak, and I mentally prepare myself for the worst.
“Dude, stop treating her like a child. She’s a grown woman and can eat anything she wants, any time she wants,” Thane insists.
“Maybe so, but as her accountability partner, I am charged with saving her from herself when it comes to emotional eating. Right, Serafina? You’re so close to losing the rest of that twenty pounds, don’t mess it up now.”
My eyes fall to the floor and I nod.
“She’s perfect the way she is, Brad,” Thane says, his voice full of tension. “She doesn’t need to lose twenty ounces, much less twenty pounds.”
“It’s okay, Thane,” I say, setting my hand on his balled-up fist. “Bradley has been helping me get healthier. It can be hard, staying in shape when I’m around pastries all day.” I laugh, but it’s forced, and Thane stares into my eyes, unflinching.
“See? I’ve got this, man. I don’t need your help, and she doesn’t need your cookies and bad influence.” Bradley grabs my hand and leads me to the hallway.
I look over my shoulder before disappearing into the darkness, and the fire in Thane’s eyes burns like a beach bonfire that has gotten out of control. He meets my gaze and shakes his head. My eyes sting and I’m grateful for the cloak of darkness we disappear into down the hallway.
When we get upstairs, Bradley stops me in front of the bathroom and turns on the light. “Hurry and brush your teeth. You don’t want weight gain and cavities,” he jokes, but I don’t laugh. “I’ll be in my bunk,” he says, then shuts the door.
A few seconds after he leaves, I hear a light rapping on the door. I open it and find Thane standing in the hallway.
“You forgot this,” he whispers, holding out my neatly folded pajama shirt.
“Thanks,” I say through a sob rising in my throat, and start to shut the door.
Thane’s hand stops it gently. “I know now isn’t the time, but you and I need to talk. That guy is…” he trails off before changing the trajectory of his statement, “…you deserve better, Fina.”
I fake a smile and squeak out, “Good night, Thane.”
The door clicks shut and my throat tightens.
I watch in the bathroom mirror as the tears crowding my eyes fall, not bothering to wipe them away.
They splatter the front of Thane’s sweatshirt in tiny dark spots.
Small sobs escape me, and I try to cry as quietly as I can while I brush my teeth and take out my contact lenses.
What I want is to stuff it all back in its box and force myself to feel nothing again.
To ignore the way I’ve missed his nicknames and teasing.
But what I really need is to sit with my pain and let it wash over me.
It could drown me, or cleanse me, and I won’t know which until I let it in.
I stare at my red-rimmed eyes and barely recognize the woman in the reflection.
How did I lose so much of myself?
I remove his sweatshirt and bury my puffy face into it, inhaling deeply one more time.
The familiar scent of how his hugs always smelled wraps around me, and for a brief moment, he’s mine and I’m his again.
Life isn’t complicated or painful yet, just filled with exciting possibilities.
I realize how much I’ve missed that lighthearted feeling, so I loosen my grip on the fear I carry, and allow myself the rare luxury of reminiscing about five summers ago.