I wasn’t counting on reengaging with Piper.
“Know what I like about you?” she asks.
I mentally brace myself. “What?”
“Everything your dad gives you a hard time about. I think it’s cool that you plan ahead. It’s amazing that West Point’s your goal, that you’re busting your ass to get there. I like that you read books that look like they belong on the dusty shelves of a research library. I like that you’re smart and attentive and mature. Being with you makes me feel—”
Her eyes go big, like her brain’s just now catching up to her mouth. She shakes her head, then pulls our scorecard from the pocket of her skirt, suddenly riveted by the numbers on it.
I need to know how that sentence was meant to end.
“Makes you feel what?”
Nothing.
“Come on, Piper. What were you going to say?”
Looking up and into my eyes, she says softly, “Safe. Being with you makes me feel safe.”
Piper
I stomp Henry in putt-putt.
He doesn’t seem to care.
We walk back to the Towers. It’s late, and the main drag’s dead, save for a few tourist-laden rideshares. The sky is clear and blue- black, scattered with stars. As stir-crazy as I so often feel in this town, I’ll miss its nights when I move to one of the faraway states I daydream about.
Tati loved Boston, with its green spaces and vibrant arts scene and universities, but she had to have been sad about leaving Sugar Bay. Waves crashing against white sand. Incomparable sunsets. Hole-in-the-wall cafés and custom T-shirt shops and an exciting influx of tourists come spring. Would she have visited if Mom and Dad were still alive, fulfilling the roles she’s been forced to assume? Would she have come back to see me, her little sister, not her annoying charge?
“What’re you thinking about?” Henry asks as we meander toward the Towers.
“The ass-whooping I just handed you.”
“Ha ha,” he deadpans. “For a girl who’s celebrating, you look pretty pensive.”
“It’s nothing,” I say, even though I’d like to tell him that I’m thinking of my parents, the stars and the ocean, my sister.
“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” His tone sounds almost indifferent, but I know this is how he demonstrates patience, and it works.
“I was thinking about Sugar Bay,” I admit. “How as much as I want to leave one day, I’ll miss it.”
“It’s a great town.”
“Yeah. Full of memories.”
He gives me a sweet smile. “I can’t even imagine.”
It’s not until we’re standing in front of my door in the west tower that he speaks again. He props his shoulder against the wall, and I match his posture, standing closer than I have in all the days since we reunited.
“Remember when we met? The first time?”
I blink, sleepy yet thrumming with energy. “Yes.”
“You were crying.”
Three years later, the memory makes me blush. “I remember.”
“I didn’t ask why.”
