“She’s kidding,” Eryn says quickly, taking pity on him.
Still, Tate doesn’t relax until he checks, yanking his hat off and then sighing with relief before giving Lili a mock salute. “I’m starting to see you now, Tourist Girl.”
The nickname hangs in the air, and in the rising moonlight, Lili’s green eyes meet mine, brief and sharp, like the quick crest of a wave before it crashes. She drops her eyes to the pizza box and leans forward to grab a slice.
I don’t plan to spend any time tonight analyzing why exactly I don’t like Tate calling her Tourist Girl.
Eryn leans slightly into my side, her face lifted toward the sky, waiting for the fireworks to start.
Tate’s and Lili’s voices filter through the darkness, a steady rhythm of banter. He makes her laugh a few times, a light and airy sound, though I can tell she’s trying not to. I wonder if he’ll ask her out after tonight. He’d talk nonstop about his boat, oblivious to how even the topic of being out on the water makes her ill.
“Am I leaning on you too much?” Eryn shifts her head, tilting up to catch my eyes.
“Hmm? No, you’re fine.”
“You just went really stiff.” She pulls back slightly, her eyes searching mine, waiting for an explanation.
Guilt crashes over me. What would it matter if he asked herout? Maybe they’ll bond over food or something non–ocean related, and find they have a ton of things in common. But even as I think this, I notice that Lili is methodically plucking off her pizza the black olives that Tate insisted on, and that I have a similar pile of olives next to me.
“I’m fine,” I say, forcing my muscles to relax, refocusing on the moment. I watch as Eryn smiles softly at me, then up at the sky, her face lit by the first burst of fireworks.
The air booms and crackles as colors explode in a kaleidoscope of light reflecting off the water and shimmering across the shore. I’ve never cared much about the Fourth of July show, but I lift the arm not bracing me, inviting her to lean in more fully. She does, her body fitting easily against mine, and I pull her closer, a gesture so automatic it feels like breathing.
While I try to focus on the fireworks, it’s Lili’s laughter that draws my attention again and again. It’s light but constant, like the flickering of fireflies, and impossible to ignore.
After the finale crescendos some time later, Tate’s voice pulls me back to the present. “Looks like Cinderella’s done with the ball.” He nods toward Eryn, who has slumped against me, her breathing slow and steady.
I run a hand over her arm, shaking her gently.
“Did I fall asleep again?” she murmurs, blinking as she checks her watch. “I’m sorry, I always do this. I had to be at the café at 4:30 this morning.” She yawns, jaw cracking as she stretches. “And again tomorrow.”
Tate and Lili join me in reassuring her it’s fine as we begin to gather our things.
There’s a moment when Lili pauses, her brow furrowing. Theblanket is folded under Eryn’s arm, Tate is throwing away the last of the trash, and I’m still sitting in the sand. “Stupid question, but where is your wheelchair?”
Tate’s head snaps up, eyes darting around. “Wait, where is it? You don’t think...” His eyes bulge. “...grand theft wheelchair?”
“Wheelchairs and sand don’t really go together,” I tell her. “I left it in the truck, but I’ve got my trusty pack mule over there to help me get here and back.”
“That’s Mr. Pack Mule to you,” Tate says, squatting down in front of me so I can grab a hold of his shoulders. He hoists my legs up piggyback style, then takes off at a run. “I’m calling shotgun!”
When we pull up to Eryn’s house after dropping Tate off, I watch through the rearview mirror as she gives Lili a hug in the backseat before stepping out of the truck.
“Still on for lunch tomorrow?” she asks, turning to me.
I nod, reaching out the window to take her hand and tug her closer. My eyes trace the familiar contours of her face, and I remind myself that her hand was the first to find mine when the doctors told me I’d never walk again, and that throughout that first year, when all I wanted to do was give up, she never once let me let go.
She tucks her hair behind her ear, lowering her head slightly, as if my gaze is too intense.
I lean in and kiss her, holding it long enough to feel her cheeks warm under my touch and see her flush when I pull away. I’m not usually big on public displays of affection, but I needed to remind myself that I’d be every kind of fool to risk losing her.
She steps back, dragging out the contact of our fingers so thatit looks like I’m reaching for her by the time we let go. I’m still staring after her as she turns then hurries inside her house.
Until Lili’s voice breaks my focus.
“You don’t mind if I sit up front, do you?” she asks, already climbing up between the seats before she finishes talking.
I do mind. The front seat of my truck is decently large, but I was less aware of her when she was behind me.
