12. Ty #2
“Look at you,” Owen clucks. “Building a musical identity.”
I smack his arm. “Now, that sounds weird when you say it like that.”
The server comes over, saving me from whatever they were about to say next. Orders go in. Drinks follow. The conversation picks up around me. Someone brings up something about training camp in September, travel schedules, who’s late to everything—but I’m only half-listening.
The restaurant is loud and layered. Voices overlapping, cutlery hitting plates, a chair scraping somewhere behind me, music threading through it all like it’s trying to hold the whole thing together.
Too much, most days. Too many inputs. Too hard to separate what matters from what doesn’t. That was the first clue something wasn’t lining up right. Not that I called it that at the time.
But the music—music lands different. It always has.
It doesn’t compete. It organizes. Gives everything a shape I can follow, something steady underneath the noise.
I’ve always had songs I return to. The same ones, over and over, like they’re doing something for me I didn’t have a name for.
Still don’t. Not really. But I’m starting to think it’s not random.
Maybe it’s…regulation. Or whatever my therapist called it.
I don’t have a chance to sit with that long before my attention drifts back to the phone in my hand. Back to the list.
Songs continue to cycle through as people add to the queue. I read through them, one by one. “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac. “Freedom! ‘90” by George Michael. “Clean” by Taylor Swift, “Again” by Lenny Kravitz, and “Holocene” by Bon Iver.
Those are not just good songs.
Those are my songs.
Like, if someone asked me to pick four tracks that hit every single emotional lane I don’t talk about, it would look and feel a lot like this.
I tilt my head to the side slightly, studying the name. Jewelsy. My brain tries to make sense of it. Like…Jewel, the folk singer? I glance down at the list again. For the record, Jewel had some solid songs. Not that I’m saying that out loud. Absolutely not.
I scroll a little more, half-expecting the pattern to break. It doesn’t. Every choice is…right. Not trendy, nor popular, just the song I would want to hear.
I glance up from my phone, and my gaze drifts across the restaurant. Over the tables and the booths. I’m looking toward the bar when I stop. There’s a woman sitting up there, turned slightly sideways, her back half to me.
I don’t see her face. Not at first. But the way she tilts her head back, and the way her shoulders lift when she laughs—there is something about her…
I look again. Really look this time, when it clicks. Vivian. Jewelsy? I mean, it’s pointed but it could be her. She’s sitting at the bar, phone in her hand and leaning in toward another woman, mid-laugh, completely unaware of anything outside that moment.
I angle my body in the booth, the music still shifting overhead, to deal with the pounding of my heart. I can feel it in my teeth, but like my admission about Jewel a moment ago, some things are not to be said out loud.
“Hey,” Owen says suddenly, nudging Liam with his elbow. “Dude. Your sister just walked through the door.”
Liam looks up, already scanning the room as Lucy makes her entrance. “Oh, yeah.”
His gaze tracks across the restaurant, following her as she weaves her way through the room, then lands at the bar.
“She’s over there with—” He squints slightly, then huffs out a small laugh. “Yeah. She’s with Vivian and her friend Eva.”
I don’t say anything. Don’t move. But my grip tightens just slightly around my phone. Vivian is here. With Liam’s sister. Because of course everyone knows everyone around here.
My brain flicks back to the screen in my hand. I was busy with a task at hand, but now, well, her very presence has me out of sorts. So I glance up again, and as I do she laughs, head tipping back just enough that I catch the edge of her profile.
That answers that. I push myself out of the booth, already standing. If I don’t go right now, I may not walk over. Overthinking and all that.
“I’ll be right back.”
Liam waves me off while Owen stays focused on signing a reluctant Nathan up for his own playlist-music-identity-whats-it. I set my phone down and head for the bar.
I don’t rush. That would be noticeable. Also unnecessary. It’s just a short distance. Booth to bar. Straight line, slight angle left to avoid the server station. Two people in my path. One step around. Easy. Normal.
Contrary to popular belief, I can do normal.
I adjust my pace once, as my hand brushes my wrist without thinking. Peace. Right.
I reach the end of the bar and stop for half a second longer than I probably should, recalibrating. It’s just three people, Ty. Three people.
“Hey.”
Three heads turn, but Lucy is first to react. “Ty! Have you come to join us?”
I glance at Vivian, who smiles a quiet hello, before turning my attention to the small group in front of me.
“We saw you come in,” I say, nodding toward the booth. “Rather, your brother’s twin radar went off when you entered the building.”
“Ha. I’m sure it did. Does he have the twenty bucks he owes me?” Lucy asks.
Eva leans in, amused. “What’s the twenty for?”
“Fantasy league,” Lucy says. “He lost and now refuses to acknowledge it.”
“It was disputed,” I add.
“But he is delusional,” Lucy corrects.
I move slightly, aware of where I’m standing, where they’re sitting, where the space opens and closes around us. It’s busy, but not loud enough to lose track of the conversation. Good.
I glance at Vivian again. “So, dinner huh?”
Lucy stares at me like I just asked her to buy beach property in Kansas. She waves her menu in the air. “Hopefully. It’s girls’ night.” She then points to the third person there with her and Vivian. “Sorry, Eva, but this is Ty. He’s on the Dominion with my brother.”
“Nice to meet you,” she says, offering a quick smile. “I’ve heard about you.”
“Good things?”
Eva nods as Lucy laughs. And Vivian…well, Vivian doesn’t say anything right away. But she’s still looking at me with that flicker I saw in the jewelry store. Recognition, but it’s layered with something more. I simply haven’t put my finger on what to call it yet.
Lucy glances over my shoulder. “Oh, that’s where you’re sitting.” She starts sliding off her stool, nudging Eva with her elbow as her eyes rock from Vivian then land back on me. “Come on.”
Eva blinks. “What?”
“You wanted to meet him,” Lucy says, giving Eva a gentle tug.
“I wanted to order some spring rolls.” Eva scowls, still clutching her menu, looking confused.
“I also want my twenty dollars.”
“So you’re going to march over and introduce me to get it? That feels passive-aggressive.”
Lucy shakes her head. “It’s not when it’s your brother and you were born ten minutes before he was.”
“I guess we’re going.” Eva laughs, but she’s already standing.
They disappear into the crowd, headed straight for the table. Leaving Vivian and me all alone.
Just us. Together.
I rest my hand against the bar as Vivian turns toward me fully now.
“So,” she says, one brow lifting. “Coincidence, or did you follow me here?”
“I was already here,” I say. “You walked into my location.”
Her mouth tips. “Your location.”
“Current operational zone.”
“Wow,” she says. “Very official.”
“I like clarity.”
“I’m starting to understand that.” She cocks her head to one side. “So, did you do anything fun today?”
“Practice with the girls. They’ve got Saturdays, but also Tuesdays and Thursdays for another month.”
“I didn’t realize they were on the ice so much.” Vivian sits back in her chair, crosses her arms, and takes me in. “So, did you come over here to talk about practice, or to talk to me, or just to say hello to all of us?”
“I wanted to say hi. To all of you.” I hesitate, then add, “But mostly to you.”
She goes perfectly still. “Why?”
I consider that for half a second longer than most people probably would. “I’m doing things to take me out of my comfort zone this week, and one of the things that would keep me comfortable would have been sitting at that table and not getting up to say hello.”
Her mouth curves. “Wow. I didn’t realize I was part of a personal development plan.”
“You’re not,” I say. “You’re a variable.”
Her eyes widen. “A variable.”
“Yes.”
“That sounds…not good.”
“It’s not that,” I say. “It just means you weren’t predetermined.”
She studies me for a second, then laughs. “You’re very hard to argue with.”
“I’m not trying to argue.”
“No, I know,” she says. “That’s what makes it tricky.”
There’s a small movement as she turns a little more toward me, elbow resting lightly against the bar.
“So,” she says, “what else is on that very structured list of yours?”
“Nothing structured about it,” I say. “I’m just doing things I wouldn’t normally do.”
“Like talking to women at bars?”
“I talk to women,” I say, but even I can hear the defensive tone in my voice.
She dips her chin. “But, do you?”
The lilt of sarcasm clues me in, and a tiny grin pulls at the corner of my lips. “Yes.”
She tilts her head. “Ty…?”
I cross my arms. “Fine. Less than average,” I admit.
She smiles, like that answer works for her. “Honesty. Bold choice.”
“I like being honest.”
“So in the spirit of trying new things,” she says, eyes flicking to mine, “you got up from a perfectly good table, walked across a crowded bar, and inserted yourself into girls’ night.”
I consider that. “That’s true.”
“Is trying new things hard for you?”
“It is.” I suddenly want to open and tell Vivian all about Dr. Hale. About our session, and my homework. To tell her about me. “It’s helping me to be less rigid.”
“So would ‘rigid’ have kept you from walking over here?”
I nod. “But, I made an exception.”
Her brows lift. “For the group?”
I meet her gaze.
“For you.”
A moment passes between us when she connects the words I’ve said to what they could mean. The air around us is thick, but I am not running from this feeling. And, thankfully, she holds my gaze and doesn’t look away.
“Careful,” she says, quieter now. “You’re getting better at this.”
“I don’t think that’s what’s happening.”
“No?” she asks.
“No,” I say. “I think I’m just saying what I mean.”
Her expression softens a fraction. “That’s dangerous,” she says.
“For who?”
She holds my gaze a second longer, and my stomach turns a somersault or fifteen.
“Undecided.”
Well now. That pulls something low and steady in my chest. But before I can figure out what to do with that, Lucy’s voice cuts in as she and Eva reappear, sliding back into their spots like they were never gone.
“I know you two look cozy and like you’re deep in the middle of something, but…” Lucy looks between us, then at me. “We’re hungry and time’s up.”
“I wasn’t aware there was a timer,” I say, winking at Lucy.
“There is now,” she replies, gently pushing me away. “Girls’ night. Remember?”
Eva smiles, a little apologetic, a little amused. “We’re reclaiming our friend.”
Lucy points toward the tables. “Your people are staring.”
I glance over, and they are. Liam’s crossed his eyes, making the other two crack up, and I can only shake my head. You are who you hang out with, right?
“Go,” Lucy says, flicking her hand. “Before they come get you and make it weird.”
“They will make it weird,” Eva adds. “I can even tell you that and I just met them.”
“Your words are filled with truth,” I agree, chuckling. “Have a fun night, you guys.” I look at Vivian. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
Her mouth tips. “Saturday.” There’s that same ease. That same—something.
Then I step back, turning toward the table, and I can feel it, even as I walk away, that this conversation didn’t stay in the category it started in.
Not even close.