Page 39 of Missed Sunrise
Our laughter faded from the room, and Bree’s gray eyes caught mine before she went on. “Understanding—even in the simplest of terms—the emotional capabilities people have before they make their decisions has helped me deal with a lot. Grandmother’s actions, Fortuna trying to con me into a horrible work contract, all the things in between….”
My chest was suddenly tight. I was on that list. “Like how I left in September, knowing you were keeping things from me.”
Her lips thinned. “And how I kept things from you too.”
We shared a long look before she stood up and offered me her hand like the gentlelady she was and hoisted me up with strength that always surprised me. “Now, let me go kick your ass at Skee-Ball.”
“This wasn’t much of a fight,” I observed.
She linked arms with me, and before we left the dark of the theater, she said quietly, “Not everything needs to be. But if you want to tell me about Austin and what happened on that ship, I’m all ears. My plate always has space for you.”
And I would tell heralmostall of it. But not until after I excused myself to the bathroom to splash water on my face and pull myself together. That witch had given me feelings.
We played two rounds of Skee-Ball as I gave her the lay of the land on the ship. The tiny sleeping quarters, the shifting day-to-day tasks, how my hours and Austin’s didn’t often align.
She chased lights on the cyclone machine and racked up tickets while I rested my hip against the dome and told her about how the schedule on the boat made me feel—and act—almost manic.
About how I struggled to build friendships, or even pretend to want to, with Austin’s friends or with any of my co-workers.
How they all slowly started to regard me as unreliable and unapproachable after being lost, late, or misunderstood a handful of times.
But there were things I didn’t tell her.
Because no matter how big or small her plate was, I didn’t want her to add the weight of my failed relationship to it.
She didn’t need to know about that final straw—Austin’s frustration with my desperation to get back to the Coast. Really, the more I thought about it, the more I saw why he felt that way. During the entire summer I’d pursued him—and let him pursue me—I hadn’t hidden my growing desire to escape the Coast. And it only took one phone call to unravel that desire.
Or, to him, that’s how it probably seemed.
But I could, and did, tell her about how Austin liked me most when I was a dreamer. Because he’d been a dreamer too.
Our dreams just weren’t the same, and we didn’t discover that until after signing a six-month contract.
Bree and I mounted the fake snowmobiles of theArctic Thundergame as she asked, “What do you want to do now?”
The forced air of the game blew her red hair back and tickled my exposed scalp as we made a lap around the snowy track.
“With my life?”
She nodded, and I shrugged. “Find a new dream. A better one.”
Her eyes flicked to me, but she kept her snowmobile avatar on course as only a kid raised in arcades and casinos could.
“What’s step one?”
I smirked at her. “Calling Daddy about a houseboat.”
Her snowmobile crashed into the bank.
10
Liem
Every timeI pushed through the saloon doors at Ari’s, I felt like a sheriff in an old Western movie. My steps were led by my hips as I swayed my upper bodyjustso, and I wondered if it was finally time to purchase a pair of cowboy boots.
“Liem,” Vinh rumbled, breaking me from my recurring daydream.
I pivoted toward him in my uninspired footwear and made my way to the counter, where he was typing away on his laptop. “How can I help you this fine afternoon, brother?” I leaned my elbow on the battered countertop and rested my chin on my hand.
