Page 110 of Even After Sunset

But for now, I just bask in the moment. It’s a perfect evening. Perfect, except I can’t help thinking of Silas every few minutes. He was such a big part of my adventure, and such a big part of the changes I’ve gone through over the past couple of months. And I wish he could be a part of this, too.

But I understand that he’s on his own journey right now, spending his last few days in rehab, and will probably be busy for the next little while after that, settling into his new home. With his new family. Hopefully finding his new “familiar”.

And I’m going to have to get used to navigating my own already familiar world, only with an entirely new perspective. Because I reallyama different person today than I was when I left over two months ago.

Not that I’m going to be tossing my color-coded stickie notes out any time soon. I still think they are the best invention since the day-planner. But I will force myself to free-style every once in a while. Go wild and crazy and attend a party with people I’ve never met before. Or sign up for a few courses that don’t fit with any sort of mental outline I have for my future.

“Jackie… “ Richard’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “There’s someone at the front door to see you.”

I’m confused, because I don’t understand why he doesn’t just tell them to join the rest of us out in the yard. And also, I’m pretty sure every single one of my friends is already here. But Richard nods toward the house again, and I set down my glass of lemonade to go see who’s at the door.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Silas

Jackie stops in her tracks when she sees me. And at first it looks like she’s about to cry. Which can’t be good. I hadn’t planned for that. At all.

But then her lips open into the most beautiful, full-face smile and I know they’re good tears and I breathe again.

“Oh my gosh, Silas! You’rehere!You’re— how are you here? I thought you were still in…”

Then her voice trails off and she runs toward me, wrapping her arms around my torso in a hug that almost cuts off my circulation. I hadn’t planned for this either. And I like it.

“I lied,” I tell her, grinning. “I got out last weekend. I wanted to surprise you.”

“I can’t believe it!” she cries. “I am so happy! This is the best surpriseever!”

Note to self: Jackie Delaney has low standards when it comes to surprises.

“I can’t believe you got out last weekend,” she says. And suddenly I feel self-conscious.

“Yeah.” I stare at a framed picture on the wall just beyond her right shoulder. “I wanted to be out a few days—without telling anyone for a bit where I was, just to… you know, just to see how it feels. To get my sea legs or whatever.”

“That’s really smart,” she says. Of course. I should have figured Jax would get it. She’s a planner. She’s a cautious girl. And she knows everything about me—what I’ve been battling. She and Richard are the only other people who know about the rehab thing, besides Maggs and Credence. I really don’t need to worry about how Jax will react to me being out.

But I do.

I want to be a better person for her. I want to prove that I’m moving on, and moving forward, just like she is. It’s one of the things I respect the most about her, and I want to be more like that.

She looks at me for a second. Skims her eyes over my body and then my face, like she’s assessing me, looking for changes or something.

“You look good,” she says. And she looks like she means it. “I’ve been thinking about you so much…”

She flings her arms around me and squeezes again.

“Gosh, it’s good to see you!” she whispers. But her mouth is so close to my ear that I still hear every word.

Man, I like this girl.

“You too," I say, pulling her back against my chest, peering over her shoulder to make sure Richard or Meryl aren’t standing anywhere nearby. They know about me and Jax getting…closerthis summer. But I’m not exactly eager for them to walk in on me with my hands pawing her body.

“I was scared you wouldn’t want to see me,” she says, still in a voice that’s barely above a whisper. I can hear the chatter and laughter filtering through the screen door somewhere in the back of the house.

“Why the hell would you think that?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Just…” she shrugs again. “I’m not sure. I was just worried, that’s all.”

Probably because I’ve been so hot and cold with her for the past two months. I don’t blame her. And I also don’t try to explain it to her—the control that the liquor had on my moods. I didn’t even realize it myself at the time. It’s one of the million-and-one things I learned in rehab: that so many of the moods I attributed to other stuff were all part of the addiction. I thought it was the nightmares that controlled me—and it was at first. But then it became more about the need to have a few drinks in order to fall asleep. The belief that liquor was some miracle potion that kept all that bad stuff away. And then it just became a physical addiction that I masked as something else.

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