Sweet

Brow creased in confusion, he touched his thumbs to the tears. “What’s this then?”

“When will you leave town?”

His frown deepened and I realized my mistake.

“Why do you think I’m leaving?”

Me and my careless mouth. “I… I just assumed,” I stammered, knowing my eyes were telling him what a liar I was.

“Ah, dammit Pearl.” He sighed, mouth tight. “Did Sam tell you?”

I shook my head. “I overheard you telling her what you were doing for me. I’d meant to call Mama this week to let her know I missed her. What you told Sam just gave me incentive to do it. We needed this break because it’s past time she began regarding me as an adult, but we also needed the reconciliation.” And I needed to know the truth about my father.

An hour later, sitting in class, I realized that he’d deflected my question about when he planned to leave town. I had no business wanting him to stay when I would be gone before the end of August. I’d asked to move home to liberate him to go find his future. My longing to be part of that future didn’t figure in.

• • • • • • • • • •

Four messages were on my phone when I checked it after class.

Mama:  Happy birthday, Mija. We’ll see you tonight?

Melody:  Hey chica – FINALLY 21!!! WOOHOO!! Sorry I’m not there. ☹ Scratch that. Sorry you aren’t HERE. When you come to Dallas this fall we will party our butts off. K??? Miss you!

Lucas:  You’re welcome – it’s a great apartment. Heads-up, the Hellers’ daughter Carlie may elect herself your new best friend, and a bossy orange cat may show up at the door. Francis considers the apartment his and I didn’t disabuse him of that notion. Carlie takes care of him and will keep that up if you don’t want to. Jacqueline and I plan to fly down for Thanksgiving. Dad’s meeting us there. If you’ll be in town, J wants to meet you.

Mitchell:  Happy birthday, Pearl. Thinking about you a lot lately. Hope you’re doing well. I miss you and wish we could at least be friends.

I told Mama I’d be home after lab. I sent Mel a winking emoticon and Miss you too! I thanked Lucas for the tips on Carlie and Francis, assured him that I would welcome a friend and a guard cat, and told him I’d love to meet Jacqueline. My first, second and third instinct was to ignore Mitchell, but he wasn’t getting the message. By the time I was unpacking in my old room, folding clothes into the dresser and stacking textbooks on the desk, that text was like a burr under my saddle.

I set the lightning whelk shell he’d tried to destroy on my desk, finger tracing the whorls, and then I picked up my phone.

Me:  I’m fine, and I wish you all the best, but we can’t be friends, Mitchell. We’re done. Please don’t text me again.

I deleted the conversation, deleted his contact information, and blocked his number just as Boyce’s familiar smirk showed up on my screen and the ringtone he’d never know I’d set for him years ago played softly.

“Hello there, Mr. Wynn.”

Chapter Twenty-two

Boyce

She sounded happy. Good. I wanted to be the one who triggered it, but I’d rather her be happy the rest of her life without me than be the thing that made her sad. The tears she’d shed after I kissed her this morning had hung over my day like a storm brewing out over the water but never making landfall. I couldn’t for the life of me think what I might’ve done to hurt her, but I had no damned clue why she’d been crying.

“Hey, Miss Frank. How was the birthday?”

“It was good. I heard back from Lucas—I texted him last night to thank him for arranging the apartment. He said he and Jacqueline are coming down for Thanksgiving and meeting his dad at the Hellers’. Are they related or something?”

“I think his dad went to college with them. Maxfield’s known them his whole life.” I blew a stream of smoke away from the phone, as if she were sitting next to me instead of in her bedroom two miles and two thousand reasons away from me.

“The first thing I thought when I read it was that I can’t stay there for Thanksgiving, because I won’t see you unless I come home. And then I realized I don’t even know where you’ll be in November.”

“Maybe I’ll come see you there. I’ve been tied to the garage for years. Now I’m not.” I wondered what in hell made me say that. I kept meaning to let her go, but I kept holding on.

“I would like that.” She went silent for a moment. “How does that feel, to be free of it?”

Like I had a sense of purpose and a place in the world and it evaporated. Like I got cut loose on the ocean in a rowboat. “I don’t know yet,” I said, both fact and fib.

“I’m going to open my box now. Okay?”

“I feel like a dick making a big deal about it. It’s just… something I thought you’d like. I dunno. Hope it’s not too lame.”

Through the phone, I heard the scrape as she pulled flaps of cardboard apart and the crumple of the old newspapers as she peeled them aside.

“Oh, Boyce,” she said.

Relief washed over me, and I pulled in a drawn-out dose of nicotine to prolong the high. “It’s not as big as the last one, but the day you moved in with me I noticed the spire was cracked on that shell. Been hunting for a new one ever since. I found one that was perfect but still inhabited. I knew how you’d feel about me evicting his ass, so I put him back in the water.” Her soft laugh confirmed I’d nailed that decision. “I almost gave up and bought one on eBay, but that would be like cheating. Anyhow, I found that one last week and Thompson polished it up at his mom’s shop. Glad you like it.”