Page 72 of Yes No Maybe

“Which is?”

“She doesn’t want to marry him,” Sara says dryly, like she’s remarking on the weather. “But she will.”

“Really?”

“Rowan doesn’t run away from problems. She fixes them, even when she shouldn’t. He’s practically ghosted her, and still, whenever he calls, she puts on her happy voice and pretends it’s okay. It’s sad, really. He’ll come back, and they’ll be just like before—she’ll make sure.”

“You think that’s okay?”

“Look at me—I have purple hair and piercings. I like getting noticed. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be Rowan, with people always staring for the wrong reasons. She probably thinks Mr. Maddix is as good as it gets. Maybe she’s right.”

She isn’t, but I don’t argue. “You’re pretty smart for a teenage dumbass.”

Sara chuckles. “You’re pretty dumb for putting Rowan in another tight spot. No wonder she reacted badly.”

“Couldn’t help it.”

She gives me a skeptical look. “Are you…seriousabout her?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Ah,yeah. You’re a man-slut. Plus, she’s yourneighbor. Yourengagedneighbor.”

“You’ve stopped being helpful. Do me a favor. Find her and see if she’s really okay?”

Before she answers, Vernon and Rose stroll up, hand-in-hand, and he says, “More storms approaching. Might be time to pack it in.”

“I’ll find Rowan,” Sara says, setting her sketchbook aside.

By the time Sara returns, our base camp is mostly dismantled. Rowan looks bothered and guarded—brow pinched and arms folded over her buttoned cover-up.

Renita says, “Rowan, you’re as pale as a ghost. Feelin’ alright, sugar?”

“Oh, love, what’s wrong?” Rose coos, latching onto her arm.

“Headache came back,” Sara answers for her before dealing with Rowan’s chair.

“Should we pop into a market for some Tylenol or BC Powder?” Tom asks dutifully.

“No, thanks. I’ll be fine. Too much sun, that’s all.” She picks up her little pink cooler, trying not to look at me.

“What the heck is BC Powder?” Sara asks.

“Pain medicine in powder form. You dump it on the back of your tongue and then chug-a-lug,” Marcy says.

“Gross.” Sara winces.

“My mother, God rest her soul, swore by BC Powders,” Vernon says as we trek up the beach. “Quicker to work. She was a teacher for decades, and those powders saved many a—”

“Vernon, no.” Rose cuts in softly.

“I prefer Advil,” Ed says, and the group launches into a conversation about pain medications and ailments.

I zone out, focused only on her. I see exactly what Sara meant—she sees me as a problem.

A wedge between her and Dean.

An obstacle to the life she’s planned.

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