The silence stretches tight between us.
“I know you see her as your little sister, but she’s not just your little sister anymore. She is a woman and has her own ideas about her life. Ideas that may or may not fit into you, keeping her the same.” I said, knowing the last few words were a little pointed.
He looks around. “She built this?" he asks.
"Well, kind of. The guest house was mostly done; she’s been working on the main house. She's building it. It's not finished."
Then he turns to me, and the tiredness in his face is bone-deep. "I don't know how to do this, Bo. You're my best friend. She's my sister. And the two of you just—" He shakes his head. "What am I supposed to do with that?"
"I don’t know what to say."
"No kidding, that’s why you didn’t trust me enough to tell me."
"No," I admit. "I didn't. And I'm sorry for that. Genuinely." I hold his eyes. "But I'm not sorry for loving her."
He looked at me for a long time. The night soundsdrift through the open windows, crickets chirping, a horse snorting, and a few random fireworks still peppering the night.
"I need to think," he says finally.
"I understand, but this will be a decision Falon and I make."
"I'm going home." He picks up his bag. "Don't—" He stops. Tries again. "Give me tonight."
"Yeah," I say. "Okay."
He nods once, the same tight nod he gave me on the dance floor, and turns toward the Williams house next door. I watch him go until he’s home.
And Tyler is home. Home and in one piece. Kind of.
That's the thing I have to hold onto right now.
I pull out my phone to call Falon.
Then I stop.
I know what I did. I walked away, leaving her standing there alone. I walked out on her, leaving her to wonder. The last thing I wanted her to feel was alone, or like we had made a decision without her.
My chest tightens. It had nothing to do with PTSD and everything to do with knowing the woman he loves paid the price for my choices. Rowdy licks my hand when leaning doesn’t get my attention.
I reach for my phone again.
That's when I hear it.
The soft crunch of gravel outside. Footsteps on the path, slow and careful. I go still. Rowdy's ears come up, but he doesn't move.
Through the screen door, I can see her.
Falon is standing just outside the guest house, close enough that she could have heard everything. Her hair is still down from the dance, her little handbag over one shoulder,and she's holding the brown bear from the ring toss against her chest with both hands.
Her eyes find mine through the screen, and I know immediately. I know by the set of her shoulders and the look on her face and the way she's holding that bear so tight her knuckles are white.
She heard us.
I don't know how much. I don't know what pieces she caught and what she missed, and from the look on her face, I'm not sure it matters right now. Whatever she heard was enough.
I push open the screen door.
"Falon—"
