He confirmed what I wanted—that whatever happened between us in the past is dead and buried, that all we are now is friends. So then why does hearing it feel less like relief and more like a sucker punch?
But I don’t have much time to dwell on it, because before I can stop myself, I launch off the bed and pad into the hallway.
Tyler’s standing at the hall closet, riffling through the spare sheets and blankets. When he turns and spots me, his frown deepens.
“Fine,” I blurt. “I’ll stay.”
Immediately, that frown tilts upward, and his eyes light up. “You will?”
“Yes,but,” I emphasize, holding up a finger. “For one dayonly. I’ll let myself enjoy at least one day of this tropical paradise before I head back home.” Hedoeshave a point. All I’ve managed to see of O?ahu so far were the lush rolling hills of the mountains by the highway, the dorm building on the University of Hawai?i campus, and the concrete and steel of the airport. I spentwaytoo much time in the sky battling my fear of turbulence to not get at least one good vacation day out of it.
Tyler mulls it over for a second, shrugging before shoving the sheets he was holding back in the closet. “I can make do with one day. We’ll have to squeeze a lot of stuff in, but we can still make it happen.”
And as angry as I want to feel about my situation—everything with Jack, coming all this way just to have egg on my face—I can’t help but feel a little zing of excitement at the thought of a Hawaiian adventure.
A Hawaiian adventure withTyler, my brain tries to unhelpfully point out. But I bat the thought away and go back to helping him figure out which sheets to put on the couch.
The rest of the evening passes uneventfully—Tyler and I both agree that we’ll head out tomorrow to start adventuring, but that this evening should be spent catching up with Lucas and Ella (and little baby Mele). I book a return flight, Lucas grills some chicken and pineapple skewers for an after-dinner treat, and Tyler and I follow Mele as she crawls around the backyard picking up sticks and marveling at bugs.
Eventually, the exhaustion of the day—and the fact that I’ve been awake for almost twenty-four hours—gets to me, and my body becomes so heavy that it feels like a Herculean feat just to get changed and brush my teeth. On my way back to the guest room to get into bed, I walk past Ella, who is cradling Mele onher hip in the hallway. She turns and looks at me with a gentle warmth in her eyes.
“Getting settled okay?” she asks me. “I heard that you’ll be staying for an adventure day tomorrow.”
I nod. “Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for your hospitality. YouandLucas. You’ve both been so generous, especially with the extra day added on, and I really appreciate it.” And I also desperately try to shove down the reminder of Tyler’s plane story and Mele’s conception, now that I’m face to face with Ella again after all of this time.I’m going to strangle Tyler the next time I cross paths with him, I swear.
“It’s not a problem.” She adjusts Mele on her hip, and the baby starts focusing on her mother’s long braid. An obsession with hair, this one. “You’re always welcome here, Olive. And Lucas…” She sighs and trails off, collecting her words.
“Don’t worry about it.” I totally understand his neutrality toward the whole thing. “It…Tyler and I have a past. I don’t blame him for being a little wary of inviting me back here.”
She waves her hand to swat away the thought. “Ah, don’t worry about that. He’ll be fine. And it’s all in the past now—you and Tyler are getting your second chance, and that’s what matters.”
Her words stop me in my tracks, toothbrush hanging limply from my hand. “What?” It’s so absurd that I have to laugh. “Tyler and I? No, that’s not…that’s not what happened. We’re not…” I swallow the lump in my throat. “We’re not back together. We’re just friends.”
Ella clucks her tongue and shakes her head. “Always oblivious, you two.” She wishes me good night and trails off down the hallway, murmuring to her daughter as she goes. I catch snippetsof my and Tyler’s names, along with the repetition ofobliviousa few times. Sheepishly, I scamper back into the guest room and flop onto the bed, my brain a tornado of confusing emotions.
My phone screen is alight with notifications, the missed texts and calls and voicemails from earlier today. All from Jack. Seeing his name on my screen ignites a new angry fire in me, so I delete every single one without opening or reading any of them.
Instead, I do one of the things I’ve been putting off all day: I call Mom.
“Olive?” She sounds slightly panicked when she picks up, and I check the time on my phone, mentally kicking myself for forgetting that it’s 4:00a.m. there. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, Mom, everything’s fine.” It’s not atotallie, because Iamfine in the sense that I’m not physically harmed. But that doesn’t mean everything’s reallyokay.“I’m not hurt or in trouble, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
She reads me like a book, as she always does, taking no time to beat around the bush. “But something’s wrong in another way, isn’t it?”
For a few seconds, it feels like time slows down, like we’re swimming in molasses. It’s the last few seconds before I have to find my voice and force the words out of my mouth, and join my mother in the pit of shattered hearts.
“Kinda,” I hedge. “Something happened with Jack.” And then, not wanting to let the lies fester inside of me any longer, I spit them out—everything about the flight in, sitting next to Tyler, going to see Jack, the Lilly incident, being left in the dust, where I am now…all of it. I come clean about every last thing. Mom listens intently without saying a single word, to the point that I have to look at my phone screen several times to confirmthat the call didn’t drop. When I’m done, it’s silent for a few more seconds, and I swear I’ve lost her again, before she finally speaks.
“Of all the people in the world to run into on the plane,” she muses, interrupted by a yawn. “Tyler Ferris.”
I immediately sense where she’s going with this, and my hackles rise. “Mom,no.”
“I’m just saying, that’s too good to be a coincidence. Maybe it’s—”
“It’s not fate,” I interrupt, at the same time she finishes her sentence with “fate.” “It’s literally two people having the same place to go. And somehow getting the same seats next to each other on the plane. It’s not a big deal. It doesn’t mean we’re going to get back together or anything.”
She sounds amused when she responds. “I didn’t say anything about you two getting back together. I said that it sounds like fate is bringing you two back together for something.” I feel a burning sensation in my chest at being called out, but she continues. “I’m just saying, pea, it seems like you lucked out by having him as your seatmate. At least you aren’t stuck in some last-minute motel nursing a broken heart on an island in the middle of the ocean.”
