Page 84 of Every Thought Taken

Loud laughter rips from across the table as Logan slaps his hand on the lacquered wood. “That’s some funny shit, man.” Logan isn’t necessarily someone I’d hang out with often, but he is a riot. If someone were my complete opposite, it’d be him.

Ales, on the other hand, doesn’t find the name or Logan’s commentary funny at all. Her stone-faced expression is a mix of disdain and irritation. “You arenotcalling me or usLesdon,” she states firmly. “Which is far more horrible than Baby A.”

True, but I am over the childish name. I shrug. “Take it or leave it. Your choice.”

The server sidles up to the table with the first round of food. Fryer grease hits my nose and my stomach growls. Until returning to Lake Lavender, fried foods hadn’t hit my plate in years. On the road, I ate lean and lighter to not cause stomach issues while hiking deserted paths. Every other birthday, I splurged and ordered takeout from a nearby restaurant. The occasional indulgence had been enough to quell the hankering.

Birthdays.

Ours is a few weeks away, and it has been what feels like a lifetime since we celebrated together. As kids, our parents threw us joint parties. As we got older, the parties fizzled out and were replaced with cookouts and cake.

Will she want to celebrate? Is her birthday a tough day to enjoy too? It always felt likeourtime,ourmonth. And not spending close to a decade of birthdays with her… it just feels like any other day.

The last of the orders are deposited on the table, along with bottled condiments. Applause fills the air as one song ends and a new one starts. Everyone at the table dives for the food on their plate while I sit dumbstruck.

“Fine,” Ales grumbles, and I snap out of my mental fog. “But what am I supposed to call you now?” she asks, practically whining.

I pluck a fry from my plate, dunk it in mayonnaise, and pop it in my mouth. Swallowing, I give my bestseriously?look. “My name,” I deadpan.

“That’s boring,” she says with a hint of snobbery.

“Wow, thanks.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” She rolls her eyes, swiping up a chicken wing and taking a bite. Hand over her mouth, she continues. “The only time I call you Anderson is when I’m talking to someone that doesn’t know you or I need to be formal.”

The table falls quiet as we eat our respective meals. Bite by bite, I demolish my cheeseburger and fries. At this point, I assume the conversation is done. Which is fine by me. I grab a fresh napkin from the middle of the table and wipe my hands and mouth. Just as I open my mouth to call it a night and head back to the apartment, Ales cuts me off.

“I’ll call you Ander. Like Lena does.”

Beside me, Helena chokes on her soda. I pat her back a few times, then rub small, slow circles as the coughing settles.

“You okay?”

On another cough, she nods.

I look to my sister. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

Her eyes narrow then relax. Then her blue eyes shift to her best friend and I stop breathing. She swallows, then returns her gaze to mine. “Yeah. Sure.”

Dropping my hand from Helena’s back, I push away from the table. “I’m headed out.” Pulling out my wallet, I drop a twenty on the table. “Was nice seeing everyone.”

And before anyone can ask questions, I bolt for the door. Ready to escape the crowd, the noise, and too much attention aimed in my direction.

Ugh.Is this a mistake? Is returning to a life no longer mine a bad idea? I think it might be.

CHAPTER47

HELENA

Ihaven’t heard from Anderson since he walked out of On Tap Friday night. I sent him a message yesterday morning, asking if he was okay, but he has yet to respond. My relationship with Anderson may be back at square one, but I still know his tells. I know when he is uncomfortable or restless.

Friday night, with the exception of the joke about Lessa and Braydon, he’d been out of his comfort zone.

And like every time he felt like an outsider when we were younger, I want to erase his unease. Want to bring him into the fold with open arms. Show him he is wanted and loved.

But how well do I know adult Anderson? Not well at all, I’m ashamed to admit. Hopefully, he will give me the opportunity to change that.

“What do you think, Smoky?” I pet the gray tabby currently curled in my lap. “Will I get a chance?”

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