Page 88 of Aftermath
It didn’t take us long to walk back to the rental and to my car.I opened the door for her like I always did and shut it behind her.The drive would only be fifteen minutes, from everything I calculated. The chance I was taking was starting to feel like a bit of a miscalculation. Maybe I’d been wrong to think this was what she’d want…
The car shifted to park as we arrived just on the outskirts of town. Before I could get out, Len had already opened her door and hopped out. I hurried after her, grabbing the basket and a blanket I’d placed in the back seat.
“A picnic,” I said. “Follow me.”
She walked behind me as I headed for the path. I knew exactly the spot. I’d spent hours researching online to find it. It was only a quick walk, and from what I could tell, it was a lesser known location.Most tourists didn’t bother coming out here when they had the beach.
The spot was empty, a small hill leading to it. I paused and waited for Len, holding out a hand, which she hesitantly took.
We climbed the small hill to the cliffside. The grass was plush in this area, and the view was beyond what I’d expected, the sky a pink and orange mix as the sun started to set.
Sunrises over the ocean and sunsets over a view like this? I was starting to see why so many chose to remain in Briarport.
Len let go of my hand, her grasp already reluctant before releasing me. I spread the black gingham blanket I packed on the ground, plopping the wicker basket on top of it. We both sat, and already, I could sense her reluctance.
“What’s wrong, Len?” I asked, searching her rich brown eyes for answers I couldn’t quite grasp myself.
“It’s nothing,” she muttered.
“It isn’t nothing,” I pushed. She was holding back. I didn’t want her to hide things from me, to close herself off.
She’d done enough of that for the last three years; there was no need for her to carry that pain alone. I knew something was wrong. I could see it in the way her eyes focused on a single spot on the blanket, and her brows furrowed ever so slightly. Her gaze was distant, like she was barely there in the moment.
“It’s just-” she started. “It’s seriously nothing.”
“Lenny,” I pushed, the name grabbing her attention.
“You’re the only one who calls me that,” she pointed out, avoiding my prodding.
“I’m the only one who noticed the way your lips slightly pull up into a smile at the sound of it, or the way you sometimes blush when you hear it.”
That brought a familiar pink to her cheeks.
“You can tell me,” I added. “I won’t judge you.”
“The past three years, I have had no one. No one to celebrate with, no one who wanted to do anything for my birthday. Sure, I get the yearly birthday call from my parents, or the occasional visit from my brother, but they have been far too busy to make a day of it. I’ve never really cared much for my birthday, but it would be nice just once to spend a day forgetting about the rest of the world. I thought this might be that year, but-”
She cut off, averting her gaze again.
“I didn’t show,” I guessed, finishing her thought.
My heart sunk. She’d been waiting all day for me to show, and I let her down. Why had I been so insistent on getting the details right? I should have been there; maybe putting together this entire afternoon had been a mistake.
“You barely know me,” she whispered, her eyes settling on a bunched up portion of the blanket. “You weren’t obligated to spend my birthday with me.”
A twinge of guilt shot through me. I’d assumed Mallory or Calvin would have spent the day with her while I was out. I never wished for her to sit alone at the beach on her birthday, but gathering everything I needed had taken all day before I could make it to her.
Communication and feelings were never my strengths, and I was already drowning trying to show Lenny today mattered.
“I do know you,” I said quietly.
Her rich, dark eyes glanced up to find mine, and I pulled the basket I’d brought closer, slipping a hand inside.“I know that every few days, you change out the flowers in the vase on the counter, but they are always the same,” I said, pulling out a bouquet of daisies and handing them to her.
Her eyes widened, taking in what I’d calculated to be her favorite flower. Each time I’d seen the vase, daisies sat inside, but as days passed, I noticed they were changed out for new ones.
I pulled out a small gift wrapped in simple brown parchment paper and handed it to her.
“What’s this?” she asked softly.
