Page 46 of All the Ways You Save Me
I’m disappointed, but as I dig my toes in the sand and take in the view of the water sparkling in the afternoon sun, the rough edges of this past week begin to smooth out. Though I’m here to search for the truth, this summer isn’t just about Adam, it’s about me finding the pieces of myself that went missing all those years ago. About remembering who I am and what made me happy before everything fell apart.
I pull out a book and read until a woman and her kids park their chairs and umbrellas next to mine. The woman and I chat about our favorite novels and my childhood growing up at the beach while I show the kids how to make a drip castle withbuckets of wet sand. On my way home, I stop at the ice cream parlor for a cone of salted caramel, my absolute favorite.
I arrive at Hudson’s Bar for my first shift feeling relaxed and refreshed in a way that I haven’t experienced in years. After I change into my Hudson’s Bar T-shirt, I focus my attention on the tour Chloe is giving me around the building. I want to do the best I can at this job. I heard from the line cook in the break room that Chloe is a single mother, and she needs my help so she can spend more time with her daughter. So far, I think I can do this job. Hudson’s seems like a pretty laid-back place, a hunch that’s confirmed when Chloe gestures for me to follow her behind the bar.
“Most people will order the local beers or maybe a glass of wine. Hudson’s isn’t like the upscale beach restaurants near the marina. You’re not going to be muddling herbs or serving cocktails with mini umbrellas.” She rolls her eyes, giving away her opinion of those beach restaurants and fancy cocktails.
Chloe is about my age with long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail that looks crafted entirely for function and not fashion. Her black shorts show off her muscular legs, and she’s cut the sleeves and hem of her own Hudson’s T-shirt to turn it into a tank top. The bridge of her nose is peeling slightly, as if she’s spent a lot of time in the sun recently, and as far as I can tell, she’s not wearing any makeup. Not that she needs it. She’s beautiful in that effortless, outdoorsy kind of way. Her sun-kissed shoulders make me wonder if she’s a surfer like Ian and Garrett.
“So,” she continues, “all you need to do is sling some beers and put the food orders into the point-of-service system for the kitchen staff. And then, don’t take any crap from the customers.”
“Do they give you a lot of crap?” I ask, gazing around at theyounger people heckling each other over a game of pool and the gray-haired men nursing their beers at the corner table. I remember both groups of people from last time I was here.
She gives me a slanted smile. “Some of the fishermen like to flirt, but feel free to put them in their place. They’re pretty harmless, and they know if they cross the line”—she hitches her thumb at the door—“they’re out. But most people are pretty chill. We’re a tight-knit community.” She grabs a rag to dry a tray full of glasses, and I reach over to help.
“How long have you owned the bar?” I ask.
“I worked here for a few years right after my daughter and I moved to the island about seven and a half years ago. When the owner wanted to retire, I bought the place. Ellery and I live upstairs, so that’s convenient.”
“How old is Ellery?”
“She’s eight going on fifteen.” Chloe sighs. “God help me.”
“I work with fifteen-year-olds at my teaching job.” I give her a sideways smile. “So, I’ll pray for you.”
“Damn,” she mutters, tossing her drying rag over the side of the sink. “I was hoping you were going to say it gets better.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Maybe when they’re twenty-five.”
Chloe gives a slow shake of her head. “I hope you’re better at bartending than you are at counseling exhausted single mothers.”
I drop my rag on the sink next to hers. “Thanks again for this job, by the way. I appreciate you taking a chance on me.”
She eyes me. “Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have hired a complete stranger, but you seemed to be friendly with Ian and Garrett, and I’d trust those guys with my life. Did you know Ian from when you were a kid?”
“A little…” I hedge, remembering my conversation with Josie. “He went to private school, and I went to Sandy Harbor High. But my older sister Josie knew him.”
“And Garrett?” she asks.
“I just met Garrett recently,” I say, wondering if that’s actually true. If Garrett and Chloe are close, she might be able to shed some light on his past. But would she be willing to tell me anything? She said this is a close-knit community, and she seems protective of the people she cares about. “I don’t think Garrett grew up here like Ian and I did.” I try to keep my voice casual.
“Yeah, Garrett moved to Sandy Harbor not long before I did. He grew up in San Diego, lived in New York for a while, then came to the island to work for Ian.”
“You two seem close. Are you…?” I trail off because I don’t know why I’m pursuing this conversation. I’m supposed to be finding out if Garrett is Adam, and the current state of his love life has nothing to do with it.
“Dating?” she fills in with a laugh. “No.”
I’m even more annoyed by my rush of relief at her answer. This entire situation is mixing up my mind and my heart, leaving me with more questions than answers. Is my hot, flushed hum of attraction for the boy I used to know, or for the man I just met? Was it Adam or Garrett who I wanted to kiss in that kitchen yesterday? And what would have happened if I’d given in to my desires?
“Garrett and I are just friends.” Chloe’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “He mostly dates tourists who come and go. I’ve never really known him to have a girlfriend.” She eyes me with a renewed wariness, like a protective older sister checking out her brother’s new love interest. And then her gaze drifts past me. “Oh, hey, Garrett. We were just talking about you.”
I spin around to find Garrett leaning against the bar, and the temperature in the room cranks up ten degrees. As soon as our eyes lock, I know he feels the heat burning between us. Chloe grabs an ice bucket, which is unfortunately empty or Imight have considered dipping my head in it. With a wave, she takes off for the back room.
“We weren’t talking about you,” I say to Garrett. “We were just”—I wave a hand—“discussing the locals. And you’re a local, so your name came up…”
“Uh-huh.” He smirks. “And it came up so you could ask who I’m dating?”
I turn away, picking up some glasses and setting them on the shelf behind the bar. “We were talking aboutallthe locals. Like Ian… and even those fishermen over there.” I wave a glass at the corner table, where the group of graying, bearded men in coveralls chat about today’s catch over draft beer.
