Page 30 of Lost and Found

“Take me inside, then,” I say.

“Pushy.”

“What do you want,manners?”At a time like this?

“I’m not gonna be polite,” he promises.

CHAPTER 10

Now

Bea

“I could blame Fisher, I guess.” As far as conversation starters, it’s not my best work, but I’m hoping it’ll shake the dust of Silas’s attack off him.

He’s freshly showered and changed into a crisp gray shirt and jeans, a flannel tucked under one arm. The ends of his hair are still damp, and he smells like soap and some kind of minty lotion. He absentmindedly massages a scar near his elbow while he walks at my side. It’s a stark contrast to the frantic, grabby, and scantily clad man of thirty minutes ago. Almost too calm, in comparison.

But he visibly reorients himself at the mention of Sage’s pirate-esque, earring-sporting, chef fiancé, and grins down at me.

“For the way Walter yellscornerevery five minutes at the diner as of late or how he’s suddenly changed his entire wardrobe to white shirts with dark jeans and Crocs?” he asks. “For me not having green bean casserole for the last two Thanksgivings? For the uptick in men sporting jewelry around town? Or all of the above? Because, same.”

Mission accomplished.

“I remember when you wore jewelry, Silas,” I tell him. “A necklace, if I recall correctly.”

“Let’s refer to it as achain,” he says dryly. “Good memory, by the way.”

I need to have an expresslylessgood memory when it comes to the last time I saw him wearing that chain and should be a great deal more careful about bringing up anything surrounding that night. That was a clumsy slipup, my second in the last hour.

“What else are we blaming him for? I’m sure I’ll get on board,” he adds.

“For the influx of tourism and therefore my inability to find a rental,” I say. “So I guess I blame him—and Starhopper.” Where we are currently headed.

Similar to mine but on an opposing corner of town, Silas’s house sits above and behind the main strip of Spunes at a walkable distance. It’s a two-story craftsman with warm wood floors and a sprawling, modern kitchen that still feels cozy. There’s a vaulted covered patio, a built-in fireplace, and a fenced-in backyard, which also boasts a gate that opens to a trail leading into town, a shimmering estuary bordering it on one side. It is all exceedingly nice, and he isn’t charging me nearly enough to stay there.

We continue side by side down the crushed granite trail, the evening so lovely it’s obscene. Spunes has chosen to be perfectly sunny and dry for the last two weeks, and between working and moving, this is the first time I’ve been out long enough to enjoy it.

I realize he’s been quiet too long and turn to search him.

“Why are you still looking?” he asks me with a long-suffering expression.

“Ijustturned to look at you, Silas.”

“Not atme,” he says, sliding his hands into his jeans. “I mean why are you still looking forrentals? I thought we covered this.”

I growl out a sound at the unnervingly blue sky. “Because,” I say, feeling stupid.

When he recognizes that this is the entirety of my response, he stops and folds his arms across his chest—stern and patient and casually intense. “I already told you, I work twenty-fours all season. I’m gone a lot. Days at a time, in fact. It’s not a big deal for you to stay for the whole damn year. I’ve got four bedrooms. There’s plenty of room.” He schools his face into something pitiful. Quivers his lower lip. “I guess that explains why everything is still boxed up. You know, you’re starting to hurt my feelings.”

I ignore the theatrics, and he drops them expeditiously. “I’m worried it’s too much, Silas. I mean, Jesus, aren’tyoua little worried? Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?”

A snorty laugh leaps out of him, but he covers it with a cough when I don’t join in. “Okay, we need food before we get into this. At least I do.” Then, lower, “I always need my strength around you.”

We sit out on Starhopper’s upper deck, right up against the railing, first-row seats to watch the setting sun blaze neon ribbons across the sky. I down an IPA and split four appetizers with him instead of picking out a meal, and each thing is so delicious they fortify me on a spiritual level.

“All right then,” Silas starts. He’s let me get away with a whole lot of silent stretches and small talk since the walk over here, and I surmise that this is about to end. “Let’s have it out. Walk me through what you’re worried about.”

All right then, indeed. I can do blunt. “I’m worried that continuing to live together on top of spending more time together is going to push the boundaries of our newfoundfriendship, given that we are friends who have previously . . .” I gesticulate with my hands.