My lips part on a gasp. I know he’s not saying it likethat, but still—Myles liking me as a friend is earth-shattering news. I pause to savor the moment for a few seconds before forcing myself to refocus.
Me: Do you like playing, at least?
Myles: sometimes
Myles: I like to stay moving and I like being part of a team
Myles: but I don’t think it’s basketball specifically I like. I’d be just as happy playing badminton, probably
Me: Badminton?
Myles: sure, why not?
Myles: or curling
Me: This is getting weird
Myles: hahaha
We text for another twenty minutes, and aside from the occasional twinge of guilt that I still haven’t offered up Kat’s number (to be fair, he hasn’t asked again) and lingering worry about Margarine, I really enjoy myself. I have a fleeting thought that Myles might not fit into the box I’ve always put him in.
Myles: hey, I gotta go help my dad with something on the boat, but lmk if you need to talk later
Me: Okay
Me: Thanks for the distraction.
Myles: anytime
Myles: I hope she’s okay
Myles: you work tonight, right? see you later?
Me: Yeah, see ya
I spend a few minutes scrolling back through our conversation, smiling. When my eyes catch Kat’s name, I stand and tuck my phone into my back pocket.
Within seconds, worry for Margarine creeps back in, and I head up to my room to gather up some laundry. I’d rather keep my hands busy until I hear something from my mom.
I’m pacing in the living room when she calls twenty minutes later.
“Margarine has diabetes.”
“Dogs can get diabetes?” My grandpa has that. And my uncle Tom. He has a little monitor he wears on the back of his arm.
“Evidently. They’re running some more tests, but I just wanted you to know Margie is okay. She’ll be on medicine for the rest of her life, and might need to stay here overnight while they get some of her numbers back to normal. She’s already feeling better.”
I sink down onto the couch as relief washes through me. “Thanks, Mom.”
We say goodbye, and I glance at the clock. It’s about time to take a shower and get ready for work—my first dinner shift. I spend longer than usual taming my hair into submission, and I ignore the reason why. I also don’t linger on the fact that I dab on a touch more makeup than usual.
I’m a little relieved Kat still hasn’t called back after I tried to talk to her about Margarine—because I don’t want to tell her Myles asked for her number.
She’s obviously busy and focused on whatever’s going on in Pinecrest, and isn’t interested in the life she left behind here in Kingfisher Cove.
Maybe someday the time will be right… But for now?
It can just stay my little secret.
