Page 91 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

I groaned. “There is no one to approve of. Can we move on?”

Mom sighed, clearly disappointed. “Fine. But we’re keeping an eye on you.”

For a flickering second, I thought of mentioning our shared trauma—my stepdad—and how I felt like he was still haunting me. But I didn’t. The last thing I wanted was to steal that smile from her face, so I just grinned and kept the conversation going.

I muttered something about paranoia under my breath, then redirected the conversation to something safer—like howour documentary was totally going well (it wasn’t) and how everything was under control (it wasn’t).

Then at some point mid-conversation, because nature hates me, we lost signal.

“Hello…. hello.” Nothing.

But to my relief, I felt like I had just survived a full-blown interrogation.

And yet, the worst part?

The first thought that popped into my head after the conversation was, What if they’re right? What if I am acting differently?

I shook my head, pushing the thought away.

I had bigger things to worry about. Like Ethan’s birthday. For a second, I let myself watch him wade like a mermaid in disguise. I still had no idea what to do about his birthday.

I let out a deep breath and sank down onto the grassy riverbank, the cool blades tickling my arms as I leaned back. The water rippled beside me, calm and indifferent, while my mind drifted—of all things—back to Ethan’s birthday and the impossible “What the hell do I get him?” dilemma.

Maybe something simple. A river stone. A stick of gum. Or his favorite snack—the one that almost got us arrested last week. That felt weirdly appropriate.

I was still weighing the pros and cons of snack-based gifting when a phone buzzed beside me on a picnic blanket.

Ethan’s phone.

I glanced at it out of instinct, ready to look away. Not my business.

But then the screen lit up, and the sender’s name caught my eye.

Dad.

I froze.

Ethan never talked about his dad since the day of the accident. If someone brought him up, Ethan would sidestep the subject like it was a sinkhole—smooth, practiced, evasive.

Curiosity tugged at me, subtle but persistent.

Then the message preview appeared.

"I need to see you one last time before I... die."

The words hit like a stone to the gut. Cold. Sudden. Final.

I stared, the sound of the river dulling under the weight of that sentence.

Then, slowly, I looked toward the river trail, where Ethan had wandered off a moment ago, barefoot.

And just like that, I had no idea what to do.

Chapter 26: Midnight Secrets and Unsaid Words

Ethan stepped out from behind the thicket of trees where he’d gone, a towel slung over his shoulder and his hair still damp from a dip in the river. He picked up his phone from the edge of the picnic blanket, thumb hovering above the screen.

His usual smirk faltered—just for a second. So fast, I could’ve blamed it on the way the sunlight shifted through the leaves.

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