Page 70 of Every Thought Taken

Without a word, I wander down the hall and close myself in the bathroom. I flip the light on, drop my hands to the vanity, and stare at my reflection.Idiot.Straightening my spine, I slap the heel of my hand to my forehead over and over. “Stupid. Fucking. Idiot.”

Of course, Helena would be here. She, Ales, and Mags have been friends for more than twenty years. Why wouldn’t she be here?

It took hours of mental hype and convincing to leave Ales’s apartment and seek her out. To see the woman she is now. To speak to her and ask for her time. I wanted to find her the moment I rolled into town but knew nothing about her current life. I still know nothing.

She may have shown up to the gathering alone, but that means nothing. She may have agreed to meeting up on Saturday, but that also means nothing. Years of silence stretched between us, and in those years, she could have met someone. A casual fling or serious love. We’d hidden our relationship from everyone. What’s to say she isn’t doing the same with someone else?

My stomach sours at the idea.

Staring at my reflection, I take a deep breath and recall one of the messages from the self-help app I’ve used for years. “Assumptions lead to misery and heartache. Assumptions live to steal your joy. Never assume.” I repeat the mantra a few more times, turn on the faucet and splash my face with cold water, take one last cleansing breath, then exit the bathroom.

Chatter echoes down the hall, soft music playing in the background as I enter the living room. Everyone crowds around the coffee table, either on the couch, chair, or floor, as they catch up and share stories. I drop to the floor near Braydon, who smiles but doesn’t say a word. He and Ales have been together for months, so this group of friends is still new to him too.

At least I’m not alone.

Naturally, Ales has the best stories of the group since she sees the most people in town. She could be her own gossip mill with all she sees and hears. But spreading hearsay for attention isn’t my sister’s style.

Braydon nudges my arm with his elbow and I turn my attention to him. “We’ve talked all things Washington travel, but I want to hear about the places you’ve been outside the state. Let me live vicariously through you.”

I chuckle and pull my phone from my back pocket. As I unlock it and open the photos app, warmth grazes my profile. And without shifting my attention across the room, I know Helena is watching me. She may not be staring, but her eyes are on me more often than not.

Years ago, it was the opposite. I sat in the corner or masked in the shadows, my eyes on her when no one was looking. And the moment her eyes met mine, this warmth bloomed beneath my skin. During friendship, I had no idea what it meant when that heat struck. But as we got older and our relationship morphed into something more, an awareness hit.

The fevered skin, sweaty palms, erratic heartbeats, and labored breaths were my body’s emotional response. Even before I truly understood the meaning, I was in love with Helena Williams.

And now, as I talk to Braydon about my time in Big Water, Utah, as I thumb through the pictures, I feel each and every one of those emotional responses. I hand my phone to Braydon and let him zoom in on the pictures. While he is distracted, I peek in her direction. My eyes meet hers and pink stains her cheeks as she averts her attention back to Mags.

“These are incredible, man. I envy your ability to get out there and explore.” He hands back my phone. “Maybe down the road, I’ll convince my dad or brother to expand the company. Create features or side magazines for other destinations.” He slaps his leg as his eyes widen. “Or maybe some of those‘If you like this town, you’ll love it here’features.” He whips out his phone, opens the notes app, and types out his idea.

“Love the last idea,” I tell him. “There are several places less traveled because people don’t talk about them. And some of those places would greatly benefit from tourism dollars.”

I started travel blogging officially about a year after I hit the road. I’d been posting pics sporadically beforehand, but none of them had traction. Wasn’t until I posted about my week in the Grand Canyon that things picked up. Hours after posting, I had thousands of likes and just as many new followers. Within days, offers hit my inbox, one after another. Travel companies asked me to visit specific places, take photos, and write reviews in exchange for hefty paychecks.

Not only did I travel the country at my own pace, but my trips were also funded by tourism companies. I got paid to do what I love.

It was great until it wasn’t.

After years on the road and thousands of miles under my belt, something beckoned me home, back to Lake Lavender. I want to believe Helena is the sole reason, but I’d be an idiot to assume it’s only her. I left home without looking back. I hit the road, blocked out everyone damaging to my mental health at the time, and took my first true breath.

On the road, I never felt more alive, more myself. For years, I was happy. Well, as happy as I could be. I love the open road. I love the freedom. But over the past few months, something had been missing.

Maybe that something is her. Helena.

Now that I know myself better, maybe it is time to heal past wounds.

CHAPTER40

HELENA

Sitting in the same room as Anderson and not interacting with him feels wrong.

I walked through the front door and he bolted for the bathroom. I tried not to let that sting, but it was a hard slap to the face. Our history runs deep, and so do the wounds inflicted. Wounds I hope to heal.

Anderson isn’t just some boy I loved. He isn’t just a friend I lost touch with because I was too distracted by school and people and life. Anderson is the guy I never let go of. Not fully.

No relationship is perfect—friendship or romantic. What we had doesn’t just fade away. There will always be a piece of my heart reserved for Anderson Everett. And seeing him again has that piece expanding with each breath.

“Food’s ready,” Mags hollers from the kitchen.

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