Page 63 of The Very First Night

Tanner nods and doesn’t pry.

I dig my spoon into the pint of ice cream before taking a bite, appreciating the midnight-snack tradition we’ve somehow wordlessly established. A laugh breaks past my lips as Tanner holds up the Hershey syrup with his brows raised high—a question, a dare, a distraction from the turmoil swirling around in my brain since I read Patrick’s letter last week.

“So, what’s it gonna be? Wanna take a walk on the wild side?”

“I’d hardly say adding more chocolate to a chocolate ice cream constitutes ‘living on the wild side,’ but sure.”

He drizzles the sugary syrup over the top layer of our shared container of ice cream, then waits for me to take another bite. As I usher a spoonful into my mouth, my taste buds are greeted with a burst of bittersweet dark chocolate chunks, perfectly balanced by the sugary syrup. He watches me with a satisfied smile as I savor the delicious combination.

“What?” I ask with my mouth full.

He just shakes his head. “Nothing.”

We proceed like this for a while, a comfortable silence washing over the silent kitchen, a somber energy hanging over us that is a far cry from the first time we did this last year. It’s weird how things are with Tanner. I don’t feel this invasive need to fill the space between us with words just to evade the awkward feeling silence brings.

Because it’s not awkward—not in the slightest. It’s comfortable.

“Elijah and I got into a fight,” I say with a sigh as I push a marshmallow from my side of the pint to Tanner’s. He’s always liked the chunks far more than the ice cream base anyway.

Tanner nods. “I didn’t realize you guys were talking again.” His gaze stays on the ice cream. “Have you guys been…you know?”

It takes everything in me not to scoff as I say, “Do you really think that little of me that I’d do that after what he did?”

“No.” He sets down his spoon. “I don’t think that little of you. I didn’t mean it like that. You—” He sighs and looks at me. “You have an immense capacity to see the best in people, and that guy…you’d have to have that ability to see the good in him. I didn’t mean that you’d be pathetic to do it, not at all.”

“Isn’t he your friend?”

“No. Not really. Casual acquaintances who exist in the same friend group at best. That guy? He’s an ass.”

“Oh.” I look back down at the tub of ice cream, no longer hungry.

“Is that what had you crying—the fight?” He picks up his spoon and scoops a lump of chocolate chunks into his mouth, his tongue languidly licking the creamy dessert off his spoon before he digs it back into the tub.

“Yeah. He said something that got under my skin. It’s fine, I’ve just been sensitive.”

“Don’t do that.” His words are stern, demanding, something Tanner very much is not.

“Don’t do what?”

“Reduce him hurting your feelings to you just being too sensitive. You’re not too sensitive. As I said before, dude is an ass.”

I quickly find myself wanting desperately to divert the conversation away from Elijah, so I change the subject. “I got a letter from my brother.”

This catches Tanner’s attention. His eyes dart from the ice cream to meet my gaze. “Your brother…like, your dad’s kid?”

“Yeah, I guess he found one of my letters that I sent my dad a few years ago. He, um—Patrick didn’t know about me.”

“Patrick is your brother, I’m guessing?”

I nod. “Well, technically it’s also my dad’s name.”

“He named him after himself?”

I nod again.

“Fucking prick. Are you gonna write him back?” Tanner asks.

“I don’t know, I don’t even know what I’d say. He wants a relationship.”

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