Page 86 of Every Thought Taken

I stab the quiche and moan as the bite hits my tongue. August and Sharon are miracle workers in the kitchen. Everything they create is pure bliss. Though I’m not a full plant-based eater, I incorporate the foods into my diet. People that skip vegan-labeled foods because they think it’ll be gross are missing out. Sure, it tastes different than what they’re used to, but it’s still damn good. Especially if made here.

Just as I moan around another bite, Anderson drops in the chair across the table and sets a bottled water on the table. My eyes widen as I stop chewing.

“Hey, North.” A smirk graces his lips. “I take it the quiche is good.”

Lifting a hand to cover my mouth, I chew faster than humanly possible, swallow, then sip my latte. “Hey.” I wipe my mouth with the napkin. “Uh, yeah. It’s good.”

He chuckles. “Had it the other day. August is a kitchen genius.”

Much as I love any conversation with Anderson, this one feels weird. Generic. Something to fill time. And something so far from who we are.

“He is.” I cut off another bite of quiche and load my fork. “What’s up?” I shove the bite in my mouth.

His blue irises darken as he regards me for a moment. Then his gaze shifts down the street and he loses focus. And while he ponders over what to say, I put myself in his shoes.

Far as I know, this is the first time Anderson has set foot in Lake Lavender since he left mid–senior year. And in the almost six years since he got in a car and watched the town disappear in his rearview mirror, so much is different.

Though most of the people I see daily are the same, several new faces have relocated here from Seattle and Tacoma in search of less commotion. Until a year ago, the town had no new housing developments. Now, we have three additional subdivisions housing anywhere from ten to thirty homes. Some may say that it is small, but for us, it’s pretty big.

“Thought coming back was a good idea.” He blinks a few times before his blues meet my greens. “Now, I’m not so sure.”

I set my fork down and push my plate aside. Lean closer to the table and sip my drink. Swallow past the twinge forming in my chest. “Why?”

He huffs out a breath. “I had this grand idea.” Mirroring my position, he draws invisible images on the table. “Come home and fix everything. Feel less lonely.” The last part comes out just above a whisper.

Loneliness… what a fickle creature. Some days, loneliness is this empty sadness just under the surface. Sometimes it feels closer to homesickness. An ache for something you no longer have. On the worst days, loneliness feels like no one will truly understand or love you. On the worst days, you feel worthless. I’ve felt the last one more than I care to admit.

Wasn’t until Anderson and I had a falling-out that I experienced loneliness for the first time. College kept me busy enough, but every night when my head hit the pillow, loneliness blanketed my soul and robbed me of sleep. Since returning from college, loneliness and I have been on a first-name basis.

The only glimmer of hope to shine a light on my loneliness came two and a half months ago when Lessa’s phone rang in the restaurant and Anderson was on the other end.

I can live without Anderson Everett in my life. I have for the past nine-ish years. But I don’twantto live without him. Now I have a second chance with him, whether friendship or something greater, and I don’t plan to waste it.

“Not sure what it is you want to fix, but are you the only person who needs to do the fixing?”

His brows furrow before he sits back in his chair and drops his hands to his lap. A lightness fills his expression as he scoffs. “My therapist would say no. He’d remind me that issues concerning more than one person means all parties are equally at fault.”

I purse my lips and nod. “Seems legit.”

He kicks a foot out beneath the table, his leg leaning against my calf. “He’d like you.”

“Not sure if that’s a compliment,” I say with a laugh. I pick up my fork and poke at the crust bits on the plate. “Seriously, I have just as much work to do, if not more, when it comes to us.”

Grabbing his water bottle, he picks at the damp label. “Highly doubt that.”

Far back as I recall, I have loved Anderson. My love for him was different early on—a sibling or friend love. Innocent. But as the years passed and I embraced what I felt, my love for Anderson bloomed. I’d fallen for him, truly fallen, at fifteen. That love was sealed at sixteen, then broken, although still present, at seventeen.

To this day, I still love him. I will never not love him.

“Ander, I loved you.” His eyes fly up and latch on to mine. “I love you,” I confess, a breath above a whisper. I look over his shoulder and lose focus. Swallow and close my eyes. “And I admit I didn’t put in enough effort when things got hard for us. Nowhere near enough. I should’ve done more. I should’ve fought harder.”

At the time, I didn’t know how to balance school and Ander and keeping my parents happy. My immature mind said to eliminate the one that didn’t coincide with the other two. It’d been a foolish move I regretted daily. Something I will work tirelessly to make right.

“I should’ve tried harder too. But harping over what we should’ve done won’t change the past. Nothing will. What matters now is how we navigate the future.”

A smile plumps my cheeks. “I’ve missed your wisdom, Anderson Everett.” I sip the last of my latte. “But not as much as I’ve missed you.”

Soft blue eyes hold my greens as he soaks up my words. “We should do something for our birthdays this month.”

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