His mouth quirks. “Barely, but only if I get to return the favor.” His thumb traces over my knuckles, slow and deliberate. “You were phenomenal yesterday. Watching you cross that finish line, knowing everything you fought through to get there…It was—” He pauses and shakes his head like words won’t do it justice. “It was perfect.”
Warmth floods my chest, knowing he witnessed it all. “You didn’t even see it.”
“But I felt the energy and the way the crowd exploded for you. Trust me, I didn’t need my eyes to know you were flying.”
“You always know what to say.”
“That’s the first time I have heard someone tell me that,” he teases.
“Don’t ruin the moment.”
For a while, the ride stays easy like that, blissfully so. We fall into rhythm, teasing each other like no time has passed.
“What do you think about that new song?” I ask, humming afew bars of the current chart-topper that’s been on every radio station since early last month.
“Garbage. Pure garbage. I swear, if I hear that chorus one more time, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
I clutch my chest in mock offense. “How dare you? That’s a masterpiece!”
“Masterpiece? It’s literally five lines repeated for three minutes. A parrot could’ve written it.”
My grin splits wider. Damn, I’ve missed this. “So what? It’s catchy. Admit it, it’s been stuck in your head at least once.”
“Fine, I admit it, but only once.”
We keep tossing little stories from our time apart back and forth. Every now and then Teddy chuckles, low and unguarded, and the sound makes my chest ache. It fills the hollow spaces that had been carved out during the long months apart, flooding me with a warmth I thought I’d forgotten how to feel.
I laugh until my cheeks hurt, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like nothing ever came between us. But eventually the laughter winds down, leaving room for thoughts I’ve been too afraid to give voice to.
“So,” I say softly. “What was rehab really like? Give me the real thing.”
His silence stretches long enough that regret crawls up my throat. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked about it yet. But just as I open my mouth to take it back, he exhales slowly.
“You want the truth?”
I force my gaze up to where his sunglasses catch the afternoon light. “Yes. I need to know what it was like for you.”
His fingers tighten around mine, not in resistance but as if he’s bracing himself. “I actually have a way to show you.”
My brows pull together. “What do you mean?”
Teddy reaches into his coat pocket, and pulls out his phone. He hands it over to me with earbuds.
“Find the Voice Memo app, and play the oldest first,” he murmurs.
Whatever I’m about to hear, it matters to him. It’s evident in the tightness around his mouth and in how his voice dipped lower just now. I slip the earbuds in and my heart beats fast, anticipation mixing with nerves.
I press play and Teddy fills my ears instantly.“My therapist, Mel, suggested voice memos…You two would get along. Mel’s a lot like you, not letting me feel sorry for myself.”
A laugh bubbles in my throat, even as sudden tears sting my eyes. Of course he’d find someone like me in rehab—someone to call him out while keeping him honest. It makes me happy to exist in the same world with professionals like Mel.
The recording continues and I press my lips together to keep the sobs inside me. He missed me so much he spoke into the quiet as if I were there.
The next note begins.“It was my third morning here when I met Aaron…”
As he talks, I picture this bright, twenty-year-old young man he describes. My heart swells with pride. Not just for Aaron and his resilience, but for Teddy too. He noticed the acceptance in someone else while learning to find his. He cared enough to share it with me, even in a recording I wasn’t actually meant to hear.
I smile through my falling tears when he adds,“Damn, Ivy, I’m impressed by your job every single day.”
