Page 61 of The Silence Between

“I was thinking more like... regular people who can have a normal conversation when they happen to be in the same place,” he said. “No more diving behind the cereal display at Miller's Grocery.”

I felt my face heat up. “You saw that?”

“Everyone saw that, Leo. You knocked over the Cheerios display.”

Despite myself, I laughed. “Fine. No more hiding behind cereal boxes.”

“That's a start,” he said, a smile in his voice.

The idea of not constantly being on high alert for Ethan sightings was actually appealing. The energy I'd been putting into avoidance strategies could definitely be better used elsewhere.

“I can handle civil,” I offered. “But I'm not promising heart-to-hearts about the past.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed. “One awkward middle-of-the-night conversation at a time.”

As we sat there watching the river flow beneath us, I realized this was the first real conversation we'd had in a decade that didn't feel like we were reading from a script. Maybe there was something to be said for giving up the elaborate avoidance tactics after all.

13

RELUCTANT TRUCE

LEO

The morning air was cold enough to make my face hurt as I huddled on our crappy balcony, watching the sun drag itself over East Riverton's mess of buildings. My coffee was hot enough to fog my glasses, which was the only real warmth I was getting after a night of basically zero sleep. My brain kept playing our bridge conversation on repeat like some annoying song you can't get out of your head.

The sliding door made that awful screeching noise that I still need to fix, and Mari appeared with her own chipped mug, plopping into the plastic chair beside me. The early light hit her hair just right, bringing out those reddish highlights she got from Mom. Sometimes it still catches me off guard how much she looks like her.

“You look like complete garbage,” she observed, blowing on her coffee. “Were you at the bridge last night? I heard you come in super late.”

“Where did you even hear that?”

“Walls are practically made of paper.” She took a sip. “Was Ethan there too?”

I shot her a look. “How did you...”

“Oh please.” She rolled her eyes with all the attitude of a soon-to-be college freshman who thinks she knows everything. “You've only got two settings lately: avoiding Ethan or thinking about avoiding Ethan. So when you disappear in the middle of the night, it's not exactly a giant leap.”

“Yes, he was there,” I admitted. “Total coincidence. Neither of us planned it.”

“And?” She leaned forward, suddenly all attention.

“And we talked. Kind of.” I stared into my coffee like it might contain lottery numbers or something. “I can't keep rearranging our whole lives just to dodge him. Riverton's too small. We know all the same people.”

“So you're going to...what? Be friends?”

“I don't know what we're going to be,” I said honestly. “But that doesn't mean...”

My sentence just died right there. My brain couldn't figure out how to finish without sounding like a total loser or like I was trying too hard to prove I didn't care. Probably both.

Mari studied me with that look she gets sometimes, the one that makes her seem way older.

“You know,” she said, twisting a strand of hair around her finger, “you've spent ten years building this whole life around what you can't have. Maybe it's time to figure out what you actually want.”

“When did you get so wise?” I asked, only half-joking.

She shrugged, but I could see she was pleased. “Probably around the time you were working three jobs and I was basically raising Sophie.”

That hit a nerve. “Mari...”

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