He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“That look wasn’t nothing.”
“I like the lipstick,” he says softly. “It’s very you.”
Warmth blooms beneath my skin. “Thanks.”
“Kind of hard to look at anything other than your lips, though,” he teases.
A smile stretches out before I can scold it.
I turn and look at the scone. “Looks like lemon blueberry today.”
Milo pulls a chair out for me. I sit, and he sits beside me as I break the scone into two pieces. Milo picks up his half and takes a huge bite.
“Hm.” He chews. “This is good.”
“Lacey makes the best,” I say before I take a small bite out of my half.
“I only remember Lacey as a seventh grader with braces. It’s strange that she owns and runs the coffee shop.”
“There’ve been a lot of changes even if it doesn’t seem like it. Life keeps moving on. People get older, the days turn into years, and well—” I pause before I say, “You miss a lot.”
I say the words more for myself, but I watch as Milo swallows hard and says, “I know.”
“But what did you say for your sign-off—on TikTok?” I ask brightly.
“Your history only tells where you’ve been, not where you’re allowed to go,” he says, his blue eyes steady on mine.
I think of the picture in his room. The list in my pocket. The girl in the mirror.
“Milo, I think it’s important you know something.”
He doesn’t say anything. He just waits for my words.
I inhale deeply. “I was really hurt when you left, and I know I told you to go. I left, too. But it hurt more when you didn’t come back.” I say the second part quietly and pause when I notice him wince. “But I’ve made some choices too—ones I’m not happy with—and I’m starting to realize it’s not what’s been done, but what I do now.”
I lean slightly to the side and pull out the list, which is becoming slightly worn from traveling in my back pocket. I unfold it and place it in front of him.
He stares down at it, his finger softly moving down the side of the paper. Then he looks back up at me. “Just so you know, if I could go back . . .”
I put my hand on top of his on the table. “This is about now, and I need you to help me with this list. I need to remember who I was before . . .”
He looks at me. Really looks at me, his blue eyes clear and gentle, and I don’t feel like I need to fill in the gaps. Not right now.
He twists his hand so my palm falls against his, then he entwines his fingers with mine. “Then I think we need to pick something from this list.”
I squeeze his hand. “Didn’t you use to climb the water tower?”
20
SADIE
It’sdark and late enough outside that the Texas summer heat has evaporated into something that resembles relief. Milo’s truck hums as he drives slowly down the narrow roads toward the water tower.
I look out the passenger window. It’s quiet enough that I can hear the crickets starting their nighttime music. I close my eyes, letting the sound settle me, pulling me into a place where I can breathe.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Milo asks softly.
