Page 87 of Even After Sunset

But I don’t get why he acts so cagey about his sleeping patterns. It’s not like insomnia or whatever is something that’s his fault. It’s not a poor reflection onhim. And I understand some of the other things he gets defensive about, but not this.

We’re quiet again as we watch speckles of pink-hued clouds float above our heads, then toward the ocean, where they separate and shimmer and finally disappear.

“I got my job back,” Silas says after a while, his voice more serious than earlier.

I turn to him. “Wow… that’s awesome!”

He nods, unsmiling. “Yeah. I promised I wouldn’t mess up again…”

He looks like he wants to say more, so I sit, quietly waiting. There are no more clouds to watch now. Just streaks of oranges and blues.

“I’m gonna cut back on the drinking,” he finally says, and it isn’t what I was expecting. It’s so much better. And the words evoke much more emotion from me than I’m ready for. They mean… a lot.

They mean everything, actually. Because those words mean he wants something; that he is dedicated to making a change.They mean he is hopeful.

“Wow. That’s awesome,” I say, ironically, trying to sound super chill about his glorious revelation. But I know anything more will put him on edge. That’s something new about him I’m still getting used to. But at least I’ve noticed. At least I’m trying to adapt, too.

“Do you think that will be hard?” I ask softly.

He turns his head, and his eyes slam in to me, iced over suddenly and crackling with hostility.

“Of course it’ll be hard,” he snaps.

I flinch, leaning away, stunned by the intensity of his reaction. And the annoyance is suddenly replaced with shame. He rubs a shaky hand along his outstretched leg.

“Sorry…” he averts his gaze. “I shouldn’t have… I mean—I didn’t mean to flip on you like that.”

“It’s okay,” I say. But I wish I knew what to say thatwouldmake it okay.

He looks at me now. “Shit, Jax. I’m really sorry.”

His eyes are so intense. There is so much going on behind them and I’m glad he’s at least starting to face some of what’s there. And I don’t think I even know the extent or the weight of everything he’s dealing with.

I lean in, slowly, so he has time to process what I’m doing, in case he doesn’t want me to. But I feel his shoulders relax as I touch my lips to his nose.

“It’s gonna be okay,” I whisper, depositing a gentle kiss. And I feel the skin crease where his nose meets his forehead.

“Anose kiss?” he moans… “Man, I thought you were going in for the lips.”

I smile against his skin and trail my lips lower, along the slight bump on the ridge of his nose, then down to his pouting lips.

“Sorry…” I breathe. “Do-over.”

And this time I do kiss him on the mouth, and he’s the one who smiles against my lips. He doesn’t taste like cotton candy anymore. But fruit loops are close enough.

When I lean back, he’s still grinning.

“You’re somethin,” he says. And I can tell he means it in a good way.

He reaches into the bag again, only this time he turns away from me, even though the only thing to see is more sky, and the giant waving burger on the roof of the neighboring food truck.

Silas suddenly whips a fruit loop across the expanse between our camper and theBurgers Burgers Burgerstruck.

“Whoever hits Burger Dude’s hand first gets off dish duty for the next two nights!” he announces. And he’s already reaching into his other palm to grab another fruit loop, which he launches after briefly narrowing one eye to take aim. It misses horribly and sails a good six feet to the right of Burger Dude’s wiry outstretched arm.

I scramble for the bag, stuffing my hand in to scoop out my own stash of cereal. I take more time aiming than Silas did, though.

It still misses by a mile.

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