I smack his arm. “Now, that sounds weird when you say it like that.”
The server comes over, saving me from whatever they were about to say next. Orders go in. Drinks follow. The conversation picks up around me. Someone brings up something about training camp in September, travel schedules, who’s late to everything—but I’m only half-listening.
The restaurant is loud and layered. Voices overlapping, cutlery hitting plates, a chair scraping somewhere behind me, music threading through it all like it’s trying to hold the whole thing together.
Too much, most days. Too many inputs. Too hard to separate what matters from what doesn’t. That was the first clue something wasn’t lining up right. Not that I called it that at the time.
But the music—music lands different. It always has. Itdoesn’t compete. It organizes. Gives everything a shape I can follow, something steady underneath the noise. I’ve always had songs I return to. The same ones, over and over, like they’re doing something for me I didn’t have a name for. Still don’t. Not really. But I’m starting to think it’s not random. Maybe it’s…regulation. Or whatever my therapist called it.
I don’t have a chance to sit with that long before my attention drifts back to the phone in my hand. Back to the list.
Songs continue to cycle through as people add to the queue. I read through them, one by one. “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac. “Freedom! ‘90” by George Michael. “Clean” by Taylor Swift, “Again” by Lenny Kravitz, and “Holocene” by Bon Iver.
Those are not just good songs.
Those aremysongs.
Like, if someone asked me to pick four tracks that hit every single emotional lane I don’t talk about, it would look and feel a lot like this.
I tilt my head to the side slightly, studying the name.Jewelsy.My brain tries to make sense of it. Like…Jewel, the folk singer? I glance down at the list again. For the record, Jewel had some solid songs. Not that I’m saying that out loud. Absolutely not.
I scroll a little more, half-expecting the pattern to break. It doesn’t. Every choice is…right. Not trendy, nor popular, just the song I would want to hear.
I glance up from my phone, and my gaze drifts across the restaurant. Over the tables and the booths. I’m looking toward the bar when I stop. There’s a woman sitting up there, turned slightly sideways, her back half to me.
I don’t see her face. Not at first. But the way she tilts her head back, and the way her shoulders lift when she laughs—there is something about her…
I look again. Really look this time, when it clicks. Vivian. Jewelsy? I mean, it’s pointed but it could be her. She’s sitting at the bar, phone in her hand and leaning in toward anotherwoman, mid-laugh, completely unaware of anything outside that moment.
I angle my body in the booth, the music still shifting overhead, to deal with the pounding of my heart. I can feel it in my teeth, but like my admission about Jewel a moment ago, some things are not to be said out loud.
“Hey,” Owen says suddenly, nudging Liam with his elbow. “Dude. Your sister just walked through the door.”
Liam looks up, already scanning the room as Lucy makes her entrance. “Oh, yeah.”
His gaze tracks across the restaurant, following her as she weaves her way through the room, then lands at the bar.
“She’s over there with—” He squints slightly, then huffs out a small laugh. “Yeah. She’s with Vivian and her friend Eva.”
I don’t say anything. Don’t move. But my grip tightens just slightly around my phone. Vivian is here. With Liam’s sister. Because of course everyone knows everyone around here.
My brain flicks back to the screen in my hand. I was busy with a task at hand, but now, well, her very presence has me out of sorts. So I glance up again, and as I do she laughs, head tipping back just enough that I catch the edge of her profile.
That answers that. I push myself out of the booth, already standing. If I don’t go right now, I may not walk over. Overthinking and all that.
“I’ll be right back.”
Liam waves me off while Owen stays focused on signing a reluctant Nathan up for his own playlist-music-identity-whats-it. I set my phone down and head for the bar.
I don’t rush. That would be noticeable. Also unnecessary. It’s just a short distance. Booth to bar. Straight line, slight angle left to avoid the server station. Two people in my path. One step around. Easy. Normal.
Contrary to popular belief, I can do normal.
I adjust my pace once, as my hand brushes my wrist without thinking.Peace.Right.
I reach the end of the bar and stop for half a second longer than I probably should, recalibrating. It’s just three people, Ty. Three people.
“Hey.”
