Page 109 of The Lodge

“Hey,” I say, settling onto the bed. “Thanks for cleaning the duvet.”

Finally she looks up.

Her eyes are red and puffy, as if she spent a decent portion of the time I was gone in tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper. She holds her phone up, shakes her head. “I really didn’t know it would turn into all this. I’m so sorry, Alix. I wish I had never taken that photo. I wish I could fix it.”

For as much trouble as she’s caused, my heart still breaks to see her upset: she’s my little sister, after all.

“Do I even want to know what people are saying?” I ask.

“About him or about you?”

“I don’t want to knowanythingthey’re saying about me.” I make a mental note to throw my phone over the edge of my balcony at some point in the near future. “But what about Tyler?”

“Lots of speculation—tons of people who believe he truly is Jett Beckett, others who argue he can’t be because he looks too different. Some people are also being kind of mean, saying he’s a selfish coward if it really is him. And then there are some who think we should leave celebrities alone and let them make their own choices.”

I snort. “If only.”

Even as I say it, though, I recognize that I’m part of the problem. Writing about celebrities has been my literal job for years: hadI been on the other end of it before now—inthe headlines, not just writing them—I might have thought twice about some of the articles I submitted for publication.

Lauren wasn’t altogether off base when she asked how what she’d done was any different from the work I do every day.

“But yeah,” she goes on, idly stroking Puffin’s fur. “I can see why Tyler just wants to hide in a hole forever.”

I hate the idea of Tyler thinking his only options are to live a miserably public life… or to run and hide and somehow try to reinvent himself again. And I hate that I finally, after all these years, opened myself up to someone—someoneincredible—only for it to fall apart like this.

It isn’t about me, I remind myself. If anything, everything that went down between us today is proof that he cares quite a lot, even if the reality of him leaving feels like the opposite.

Tyler didn’t have to leave a note. Didn’t have to word it in such a way that hinted at where to find him. Surely he could have found some way to leave the resort, even in this weather—cross-country skis exist for a reason, and I know they have some at the ski school. He could have headed off the beaten path and made himself disappear without a trace.

Without a goodbye.

But he stayed. He stayed long enough, at least, for us to talk one last time… and maybe I’m wrong, but I think that has to count for something.

At the end of the day, though, itwasa goodbye.

It’s the fact that I’ll never see him again—that he’ll never again make me laugh, or make me dinner, or kiss me late into the night in front of a blazing fire—he’ll never take me up to look at the stars, or buy me a pretzel bigger than my face, or confide his deepest hopes and fears—

It’sthatI can’t get over.

I understand his choice. And I know he doesn’t want to hurt me.

It doesn’t stop it from hurting.

“I’m moving back home,” Lauren says suddenly. “To Iowa.”

The abrupt subject change throws me for a loop. “Like—after your internship?”

“Like, after this weekend,” she says, eyes low. “Everything I’ve touched since I moved to New York has… just… fallen apart. I’m terrible at my internship. I’m terrible at knowing who to trust—and you might getevictedbecause of that. The people I thought were my friends are obviously not. But I really did think I could trust the ones I texted, Alix, I never would have sent that photo otherwise. I thought they’d just fangirl with me, you know?”

She takes a deep, shaky breath.

“And I’ve totally screwed things up with you when all I ever wanted was to get to know you better. For you to finally see me as an adult—someone you might want to spend time with, be friends with, if I ended up living in New York for good like you one day.” Her eyebrows knit together. “But I just don’t know if I’m cut out for it. Foranyof it.”

Her gaze flicks up to meet mine.

“For… a really long time now,” she goes on, “I have beenintenselyafraid that I have no idea how to take care of myself.” She makes a face, looks away. “I thought doing the internship would help me get over my fear, help me prove that I’m capable of making it in a city like New York. Mom’s always bragging about you to people around town, saying how impressed she is by the life you’ve made there, so I thought maybe I could do it, too.”

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