“How much would I have to pay you to never use that phrase again?” I gave my shirt a sniff and quickly peeled it off. It didn’t necessarily smell bad, but there was the lingering tinge of working earlier in the day combined with the stale stink from falling asleep without taking it off. This wasn’t a date or anything, but I wanted to make a good impression for some stupid ass reason.
“I don’t know, how much you got?” Tyler teased. A weight lifted off my chest, relieved to hear the mischievous tone of his voice. It felt as if things between us might not be irreparably damaged. “I’d say you could buy dinner to bribe me to forget how you’re probably squirming right now, but that’d be rude since I’m the one who invited you.”
The assumption that anyone would be paying for the other’s dinner did stupid things to my gut. The only time anyone had bought me dinner, it had been with the expectation there would be sex for dessert.
But that wasn’t an option in this case. Tyler could barely look at me earlier, and now he was falling back on sarcasm to hide how difficult it had been for him to pick up the phone and call. I supposed it was good to know some things never changed.
“Where are we meeting?” I asked, needing to take control of the conversation before my brain went spiraling out of control and my mouth went totally rogue.
“Your pick. Are you in the mood for burgers or pizza?”
“Burgers, definitely.” Since I’d been assigned to work in Harmony Grove this weekend, I’d been salivating for a slice of Rosario’s Pizza. It wasn’t anything to write home about, but there was something to be said for the bland pies that were nothing like the chain restaurants. Hell, before Tyler called, I’d been thinking about calling to order one later tonight in hopes John was still delivering in his flour-caked apron.
But Rosario’s was where we’d spent way too many nights, me trying to escape the hell that was home and Tyler pretending like it was easier for him to do his homework to the soundtrack of screaming Italians in the kitchen, drunk locals at the bar on the other side of a divider wall, and pop music from before we were born. Rosario’s was filled with memories I wasn’t yet ready to unpack.
“Cool. The bar at the four-way stop has the best in town,” he told me. “I’d say let’s go to Pat’s but I’m not willing to risk food poisoning before the weekend gets underway.”
“Yeah, that wouldn’t be good. See you in about twenty?” We quickly hung up and I bounded out of my too-damned-frilly rented room feeling positively upbeat about how this weekend would go. I might not be able to turn back the hands of time and kiss Tyler until he fell apart in my arms the ways I’d wished I could, but knowing he was out there somewhere not hating me was a damned good start.
CHAPTERTHREE
TYLER
Dinner went betterthan I’d expected. The only reason I’d finally picked up the phone was to make sure we got the awkward shit out of the way before both of us were too busy over the next few days. He was one of the only people who’d spend as many hours at the park as I would, and I didn’t want things between us coming to a head when we were exhausted and bitchy.
Neither of us brought up the past as we waited for the server to bring out our meals. He told me about what made him choose audio engineering for a career, and I explained how I wound up right back where I’d started when the plan had been to secure a career that meant never having to call Harmony Grove home again. He didn’t remind me that this was the job I’d signed up for when I complained about how few people in this town wanted to help but would be the first to bitch if anything had to get cut from the festival due to budget or manpower shortages.
Now, dinner was over and Owen was in the bathroom, leaving me to come up with a way to keep the night from ending much too soon. The truth was, there had never been anyone who just got me the way Owen did. I never felt as at ease as I did in his presence, and an awkward sloppy kiss when we were teenagers hadn’t changed that. It felt like we’d picked up where we would have if his parents weren’t irresponsible shits. And from the sounds of things, that hadn’t changed over the years.
“You okay?” Owen asked as he slid onto the tall stool across from me. He laughed when I tipped my head to the side, trying to figure out what he was talking about. “Shit, Ty. I was only gone a couple of minutes and you turned that napkin into confetti.”
I looked down at the pile of scraps in front of me and shrugged, unwilling to say anything that was on my mind. I’d been the one who insisted on leaving the past where it belonged, but I wasn’t sure I could hold up my own request. I wanted to know if he thought about me after that night. The foolish, slightly tipsy, part of my brain wanted to know if the kiss meant as much to him as it had to me, or if it was just two friends experimenting as far as he was concerned.
Owen slid his stool around the side of the round high-top table so we didn’t have to shout to be heard over the jukebox that fired to life, blaring southern rock that was all the rage with the uneducated hicks in town. He kicked me beneath the table, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get my attention. I finally looked up, hoping he didn’t see the secrets I never planned on sharing with anyone, especially him. My insides turned to goo as the corner of his mouth tipped up in a half-smile. “I know it’s been a while, but you can still trust me, Tyler. I used to be the vault where you could hide everything. You don’t have any reason to still trust me, but if there’s something on your mind, I won’t tell anyone.”
“Who’s your vault, Owen? Who do you unload to when it all gets to be too much for you?”
Are you with someone? Do I need to steel myself for a pretty, edgy girlfriend to show up and keep you company this weekend? So many questions, yet it wasn’t my place to know the answers.
Owen left me feeling like we were out in the middle of a lake as a storm was coming in. The waves were picking up, tossing my boat around, threatening to tip me into the water.
“I’ve never been a talker, Ty. You know that,” he scoffed.
That wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear. Part of me wanted to be relieved there wasn’t a confidant in his life, but that was the shitty, selfish, possessive side that had no right to hope Owen had been pining over me like I’d been over him.
“Besides, we’re not talking about me right now. Tell me what’s got you so worked up that the server’s gonna hate us when we leave.”
His knee bumped against mine, and I’d be damned if I didn’t want to feel that connection lingering. This wasn’t the time nor the place for this conversation but having Owen so close I picked up the faint scent of his cologne, I couldn’t stop myself. Of course, the fucker still wore the same brand he’d used in high school. “Have you ever wondered what would have happened if your parents hadn’t moved you out?”
Owen snorted. He steadied his bottle between two fingers and tipped it back, not setting it down until he’d drained all the beer. His brows pinched and he swallowed hard. “You give them too damned much credit. They didn’t move us, we were booted. Just like a few months after that, and then about six months later. Moving was never something that was planned. They’d wait until the sheriff knocked on the door, then scramble to find the next landlord they could screw over.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize things were that bad.” I felt my burger and the beers churning in my stomach, threatening to revolt. It was so much easier when I’d convinced myself Owen had a choice in calling or not. Now, I wished I’d been the one to reach out on the off chance he still had the prepaid phone he took care of himself because his parents couldn’t even be counted on to keep the home phone connected.
“Probably because I never told you,” he admitted. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to be the adult in the family from the time you’re fourteen? It fucking sucked. They made me get a job as soon as we moved, which wouldn’t have been a problem except they wanted my paycheck so they could at least pretend they were paying the rent.”
“When did you get out?” I rested my hand on Owen’s thigh, not caring if it was too intimate for my own comfort. My friend needed me. I’d failed him every day after he left, but I could try to make up for lost time now.
“The day I turned eighteen.” He stared into the distance, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular.
