Page 40 of Me and Mr. Just Right

“It reminds me of a poem inThrough the Looking Glass. ‘The Walrus and the Carpenter.’”

Haydn laughed, but it sounded almost forced. “I haven’t thought of that in ages.” He walked out to a wide pile of shells and sat. Their little seal friend popped his head up closer and then farther back again, as if he was just as curious about them as they were about him.

Lia sat beside Haydn, close enough to touch if she wanted to, but she kept her hands to herself. They both watched the seal bob around the small peninsula. After a moment, another head bobbed up to join the first. Lia hugged her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees.

“My mom got sick when I was twelve.” Haydn let a handful of shells stream between his fingers to a small pile near his legs. “For over a year, she did tests and visited specialists to try to figure out what was wrong, but they couldn’t. Eventually, she couldn’t get out of bed. And ten years later, she died.”

Lia held her breath, afraid that if she made even the smallest of sounds, he might stop talking.

“My dad left us a month after my thirteenth birthday.”

Lia swiveled to look at him, but he kept his gaze on the seal as though it might hold the secrets of the universe. The only sign that he might still have some feelings about what he said was the tightening of his jaw as he continued.

“Bennett was fourteen, Jules sixteen. Rosie was only eight. He used to send cards occasionally. Or a phone call here or there. Those eventually dropped off, and none of us have spoken to him in five years.”

Five years. That’s when their mom had died. Oh, Haydn. It put her own problems into perspective. To lose both parents like that had to be like having the ground beneath your feet open up into an unexpected chasm. And he’d been bridging it for his siblings ever since.

“And part of me wonders if I’m not destined to be like my dad. Leave the people I love.” His voice drifted off quieter, almost like he was talking to himself.

“You would never do that,” she said, with more vehemence than she’d expected.

He turned to her with a sardonic twist of his mouth. “I’m in a different city every week, taking photographs for the magazine. Half the time, they don’t know where I am. And the worst part—I love traveling and exploring new places. I’d love to get out of Alaska and explore the world, but I won’t let myself. I can’t.”

Lia gave up trying to keep the wall between them, and she scooted close enough to grab his hand and hold it with both of hers. “That doesn’t mean you’ll abandon them.”

“I don’t trust myself.”

“Well, I trust you.” Her words hovered between them, and she realized the truth of them. So she could still recognize truth when she saw it.

And she could still trust. She tightened her grip on his hand, feeling lighter than before, even in this heavy moment. What if she could finally just stop lying? To herself. To Haydn.

“I’m Aurelia Halifax.” She blurted it out so quickly, she wasn’t sure if Haydn understood her. She hoped he had, because her heart was racing faster than right before she got on stage. It was a blend of both excitement and terror, and it would fuel her with energy for several hours.

Out here, on this quiet patch of seashells, that energy really didn’t have anywhere to go. Except into squeezing Haydn’s hand.

“What?” His brows drew low over his eyes.

She took a deep, steadying breath and forced herself to speak slower. “My name isn’t Lia Hall. It’s Aurelia Halifax.”

“Okay …”

Ugh. He still wasn’t getting it. She was going to have to spell it out.

See? Not everyone knows who you are,Inner Gwen said gleefully.

Shut it,Lia retorted, stuffing the sound of that critical voice as far back into her brain as she could. Inner Gwen had absolutely zero place in this moment.

She didn’t know how else to get him to understand who she was, other than to sing. So she started with the first line of her most famous song, “Unsteady in Love.” She’d been careful not to sing any of her own songs this week when she’d been messing around on her guitar, instead sticking to classic songs that everyone knew all the words to.

Haydn continued to look at her in confusion, and then there was the beat—the very moment—she saw it click for him. His eyes widened, and to her disappointment, he pulled his hand away from hers and scrambled a few feet away from her, knocking over his pile of shells.

She stopped singing and just watched him, waiting for him to say something. Myriad emotions ran across his face, and she wished she knew him well enough to read them all. She wanted to believe that was understanding in his expression, and not anger. Or maybe it was disgust and regret.

She tugged at her braid, unable to keep her hands steady as she watched and waited.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Everyone treats me different once they know who I am. I just wasn’t ready for that. I wanted to be Lia Hall for the week.”

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