Page 77 of Every Thought Taken

Not a day passed where my mind hadn’t drifted to Anderson. What he was doing. How he was doing. For hours, I lay awake at night, eyes on the ceiling and out of focus, as I sent a silent request for him to answer one of the countless texts I sent. My pleas went unfulfilled.

When summer rolled around, excitement roared in my veins at seeing him, at the chance to spend lazy days with him. But those dreams went out the window when I returned home and learned Anderson was never around. Mr. Everett mentioned Anderson having a job but wouldn’t tell me where he worked. He’d also grumbled that Anderson frequently went off on his own for days at a time.

Each year I didn’t see Anderson, the hurt encompassing my heart expanded, grew heavier, had me questioning if he ever loved me the way he claimed. Each year without him, I lost sight of what we had while the memory of him faded.

And then he was gone.

The summer before my senior year at college, I had a plan. Return home, locate Anderson, and say whatever it took to clear the air between us. But I never got the chance. Because during that summer, I learned Anderson graduated high school six months early. And to ring in the new year early, he left Lake Lavender.

His fingers tighten their hold on mine. “Much as I wanted you to come back, it’s better you didn’t.”

“Why?” I ask, the single-word question barely audible.

“Things were bad when you left. Really bad.” Glassy blues pin my greens. “But I needed that pain. I needed to experience that level of destruction in order to heal.” He licks his lips then swallows. “I’ll never be fully healed.” He shakes his head. “I’ll always have scars here”—he taps his temple then over his heart before gesturing the length of his body—“and here. Only now, I have the wherewithal to heal my wounds before they change from scratches to gashes.”

The bell over the door jingles and I blink away the tears rimming my eyes. Sucking in a sharp breath, I avert my attention to the couple that steps inside. “Good afternoon. Thank you for coming in.” I force a smile and pray it looks genuine. “Please let me know if you need anything.”

The couple smiles and thanks me as they breeze over to the opposite wall and scan the racks.

“I should go,” Anderson says. “Text you in the morning with dinner plans?”

Much as I don’t want him to leave, he is right. I’m at work and this isn’t the place to dredge up our past. I nod.

To my surprise, he leans in and presses his lips to my forehead, keeping them there for one, two, three ragged breaths. He gives my hand a quick squeeze then lets go.

“Tomorrow,” he vows as he takes a step back.

“Tomorrow,” I say with equal conviction.

CHAPTER44

ANDERSON

I’ve never been on a date. Not a real date. Plans and reservations mixed with sweaty palms and questions about clothes and hygiene.

But it seems I still have more firsts to share with Helena.

Staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I brush my hair and pray the few errant hairs will lie down and behave after I exit the room. I swap the hairbrush for a lint brush and roll it over the black button-down Braydon let me borrow. The stiff material makes my skin itch, but I refuse to slum it tonight.

This morning, I messaged Helena and suggested Trixie’s Thai House. She replied,great choice.The restaurant is small, quaint, and far from fancy. I hadn’t been inside for years, but the outside still had the same wood sign with gold lettering.

Change isn’t something that often happens in Lake Lavender. Many businesses pass on to the next generation. Occasionally, a new business pops up, like Ales’s coffee shop. But some get a new owner and face-lift, like Helena’s clothing store. Most importantly, the town likes to maintain the same overall feel. Small, independently owned businesses with welcoming smiles and a reason to stay or visit again.

I considered asking Helena to Black Silk, a classier restaurant that opened while I was away. But after learning from Ales that the whole group went there regularly, I opted for something simpler.

“You look nice, Baby A.”

I set down the lint roller and meet her gaze in the mirror. “Thanks, Ales.”

“Hot date?”

Cue the awkwardness. Ales isn’t completely oblivious to the relationship Helena and I shared before their senior year of high school. But she doesn’t know all the intimate details. Ales and Helena may be close, but I doubt Helena was forthcoming with the extent of our relationship. How we went from friends to best friends to lovers. Then everything imploded and blew us in opposite directions.

“Maybe?” I phrase my answer like a question, not wanting to lie to my sister but also not wanting to dive into the gritty details.

She steps into the bathroom, spins me to face her, brushes her hands over my shoulders and down the sleeves rolled up to my elbows. Then she steps back, holding me at arm’s length as she surveys my attire.

The corners of her mouth curve up into a warm, soft smile. “You look handsome, little brother.” She leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek. “It’s nice to see you happy.”

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