Page 37 of Counting the Stars

“I messaged Carter last night. Everything’s good.”

“Okay.” I rest my head back on him, relieved no one is sending out a search party for us. “What do we do now?”

“We go back to sleep,” he replies like the answer is obvious.

“No, I mean after this. I don’t think I can go back home and just go about my life as normal.”

“That’s ’cause you can’t.” He shifts to sit upright and rubs his eyes. “You experienced a traumatic event and for over a decade, you kept that to yourself. Now it’s out.”

“I was trying to protect myself,” I say meekly.

“I get it. I’m not mad at you, but after revealing something like that, I can imagine you probably feel a little different.”

“I feel like my whole world has shifted,” I agree. “It probably sounds ridiculous, but I felt like if I talked about them, I was acknowledging their deaths. If I kept everything bottled up, they were all still alive somehow.”

“I see where you’re coming from.” Alex scratches his chin pensively. “But did it ever occur to you that talking about them keeps their memory alive?”

My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “I-I never thought about it that way.”

“Hey.” He cups his hand to the side of my face so we’re looking directly at each other. “You experienced more tragedy at sixteen than some people go through in a lifetime. You did what you had to do to survive. From that fire, you rose from the ashes. You took care of yourself the best way you knew how and you did a damn good job. I’m sure your parents and sister are so freaking proud of you. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you too.”

“How do you know just what to say?” My heart feels so full.

“I actually had trouble sleeping last night, so I texted with my sister Lilli. She’s a psychologist. I was worried that I’d say something dumb and screw things up. I didn’t want to risk that.”

“You sought professional help?” I cock my head to the side in amazement.

“Are you mad I told someone?” He winces, waiting for some type of backlash.

“No. Actually, I’m impressed that you wanted to make sure you said the right things. It sounds like you’re starting to take life seriously. I believe that was step three on the list.” I nudge him with my elbow.

“Where did you even find that thing?” He groans.

“On the laundry room floor. I almost mistook it for garbage, but then I saw my name on it.”

“Wait. I just thought of something.” He perks up. “The last item on the list was to find out why you don’t like flowers. Is that because the city changed the site to a garden?”

“Partially.” I nod. “The first few days and weeks after everything happened was a blur, but the one thing that has always stood out in my mind was the amount of flowers everywhere. There must’ve been thousands of them stacked high on theroad near the complex. You could barely see the caution tape the police used to close off the area. There were even more at the vigils and memorials. People thought it was a nice way to send their condolences, but I hated it. I didn’t need flowers. I needed my family.” My eyes fill again with tears. But I push them back.

No more. Only happy memories now.

“I can see that.”

“Most people don’t, and flowers can be a sweet gesture, just not for me.” I rest my head on Alex’s shoulder. “I’m more of a bananasaurus rex girl.”

“I’m glad you liked the gift.”

“It’s so cute. I put it in the corner of my bed.”

“It gets to sleep with you every night? Well, now I’m jealous of the thing.”

This sets me into a fit of giggles, and the tension in my shoulders starts to ease. I need this release. I don’t want this moment to end, but I know I have to go back and face reality.

“What do we do now?” I ask after a moment of peaceful silence. A warm breeze blows past, carrying the scent of the pine trees surrounding us. Coming from a landlocked state, I was pleasantly surprised to discover Starboard Beach has a variety of beaches, mountains, and forests. The place has always had such a magical feel to it, and I begin to wonder if maybe there is some hope for me.

“The first thing I’d like to do”—Alex stands and stretches—“is go home and shower. I need to change out of these clothes.” He pulls at this shirt. “The thing has seen better days between all of your tears and drool.”

“What?!” I shriek. “I do not drool!”

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