Page 12

JACK

“What made you want to come tonight?” I ask Emerson as I park the car in front of Lenny’s, the bar next door to Luke’s coffee shop and the place he invited me to after our phone call earlier today.

She shrugs. “Figured you might need a buffer for your first social outing.”

I can’t help but let out a laugh. I’m not a complete introvert, but my sister makes me look antisocial with her extroverted-ness, and I can admit that I am a little relieved to have her with me, especially as I get used to being back home and around people instead of fish.

I wouldn’t be surprised if my mom told her to keep an eye on me when she whispered in her ear before we left to head over here.

As we get out of the car and walk up to Lenny’s, I resist the urge to turn back to my truck and drive back to the lake. My social battery is already nonexistent from my little to no human interaction, and I already know I’ll sleep well tonight with how much I’ve put myself through today.

I could use a night without the nightmares.

Between the coffee shop this morning, the station this afternoon, as well as the gym with the after-work crowd, and my mom’s for dinner, I haven’t heard my own voice this much in months.

Not to mention a part of my past I really wanted to leave behind me being thrown directly in my path.

I haven’t had much time to think about seeing Rumi since leaving Hey Honey’s this morning, but I can’t help my wandering eyes as they glance at the dark coffee shop, the place all closed and locked up for the night.

Pulling open the door to Lenny’s, the familiar beer and old wood greet me.

It’s a bar I’ve been to a handful of times, especially when Luke used to bartend here before opening up Hey Honey’s, and it’s a total dive.

The lights are dim, the place only lit from the neon signs lining the walls.

The bar takes up most of the space with booths lining the outside with high top tables throughout.

The place looks the same as it did the last time I was here, and that brings a sense of comfort knowing that some things stayed the same.

“There he is!” I hear, and I instantly find Luke in the small group of people standing by the bar. He’s standing behind Annie who’s holding a small baby, and my stomach drops.

Did Luke have a whole ass kid while I was gone?

Luke makes his way up to me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in for a hug.

“You have a kid?” I ask him as I hug him back, not able to hide my disbelief.

“What?” Luke turns to look at Annie. “Oh, no. That’s Emmett and Drew’s son,” he says, pointing to the big, tattooed guy behind the bar and the woman sitting on the chair in front of him.

I let out an exhale, my relief evident enough on my face for Luke to say, “Relax, big guy. I know it’s been a while, but you didn’t miss that much. ” He turns to my sister. “Hey, Emmy.”

“Good to see you, Luke.”

He gives her a quick hug, lifting her off the ground like he used to when she was little. “Come meet everyone.”

Following Luke, Emerson and I walk up to the bar, and my eyes scan all the people as Luke makes introductions for my sister.

I recognize most of the people here, not missing the raise of a brow I get from the redhead—Ava—who I met this morning.

It isn’t until my eyes get to the far end of the bar, past Drew with her daughter on her lap, that I see her .

“And this,” Luke slaps his hand on my shoulder, “is one of our baristas, Rumi. But I heard through the grapevine that you two met this morning.”

Her blue eyes meet mine, and it takes me a second to gather my bearings.

Her hair is in the same messy braid I saw earlier, and she’s wearing a long-sleeved white shirt, the same one she had on under her apron.

Her legs are crossed in the high top chair, her daughter on her lap transfixed with whatever toy Drew’s daughter is playing with in front of her.

Clearing my throat before stepping toward her, as if my body knows it needs to be close to her without my mind truly registering. “Not officially,” I say, my voice more raspy than I intend. “I’m Jack.” I hold out my hand.

Before she can say anything, I feel a little hand wrap around my pointer finger, and my heart instantly stops when I look down to see another pair of those cool blue eyes.

They light up, like when the sunlight directly hits the lake—it’s almost blinding, and I have to resist the urge to look away to protect my eyes.

There’s this foreign amazement as her eyes roam my face and then down to where she holds my finger.

My body tenses, and I don’t move. Babies make me nervous, especially babies associated with women who make my whole body feel warm and tingly for reasons I don’t have the time or capacity to understand right now.

A soft laugh brings my attention back up, and I don’t know how I’ll ever look away.

I’m met with the most beautiful smile, and, for a moment, the world feels quieter, like the curve of her lips have tugged all the light toward her, softening everything around us.

Softening me, softening the thoughts in my brain, softening the tension that is constantly holding strong throughout my entire body.

“I’m Rumi,” she says, a slight pink to her cheeks. “And this is Evelyn, but everyone calls her Evee.”

“Evee,” falls from my lips, the name feeling familiar as it leaves, the same way her mom’s did all those months ago when I found her on the side of the road. “It’s nice to meet you both,” I say, still holding out my hand as Evee tugs on my fingers now with both hands.

Looking at Rumi, I can’t help the memories that come flooding back. Seeing those dark waves matted with blood against the broken window. Seeing her pale skin covered in cuts and bruises, her swollen belly, the shattered glass, the eerily dark and quiet night.

All alone and probably so scared when she woke up.

Her blue eyes, the color of the lake, the color of my peace and solace.

A part of me wants to know what happened to her after the ambulance took her away. Did she have Evee that night? Was she all alone when she gave birth too?

Who was she running to that night?

Or, what was she running from?

My eyes trail past her, wondering if she’s here alone, or if Evee’s dad is close by.

“It’s just me,” I hear, and it brings my attention back to her.

“I’m sorry?” I say, confused.

“Everyone always does that,” she answers. “Looks around to find her—” she pauses, looking down at Evee as if she’s her entire world. “Someone else.” Her voice is quiet, like she’s afraid of being too loud.

“Oh, I—” I start, feeling heat rush up my neck. “I didn’t mean?—”

“No, it’s okay,” she says, that smile back but a little softer this time, not quite reaching her eyes.

“I just assumed—” I stop, needing to regroup, needing to see those eyes shine again. “I was raised by a single mom after my dad left when I was ten, and it was just me, my mom, and my sister who’s over there. Her name is Emerson, and, well, I guess you know that because Luke introduced her, and?—”

I notice that smile is back the same time I realize I’m rambling like a moron. I don’t know if I strung this many words together in the last eighteen months, but I was talking long enough for Evee to get bored of me and start playing with the cardboard coaster that was on the bar top.

I’ve never so openly offered information to a stranger, especially information so personal.

But it was something about the way she watched me as I talked, as her lips turned up, her eyes on me and only me made the words fall from my lips.

There’s something about her that feels familiar—safe, even—yet I’m just a stranger to her.

“Sorry,” I mutter, my now-free hand goes to the back of my neck, and it’s hot to the touch. “All I meant to say was, I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t enough.”

“Oh,” she says, waving an arm in the air, the other holding Evee close. “No, no, please don’t apologize. I didn’t think you were.”

“I don’t know what kind of men you’re used to, but I’m a man who apologizes when he’s in the wrong, Rumi.”

Her blush deepens, and I have to will my heart not to stop. She’s avoiding my eyes now, looking just past where I’m standing, and there is something about her shyness, her timidness, that makes me want to do everything in my power to make her comfortable.

I circle around her, sitting down on the empty chair on her other side, hoping that she spins her chair to face me, and feeling like I won the lottery when she does.

“Can we start over?” I ask her.

She nods.

“How old is your daughter?” My question feels silly to ask, as if I don’t already know the answer, but it’s the only one that comes to mind.

“She turns one next week. Her birthday is May 19th,” she answers, and it takes a whole lot of effort to not let my jaw drop.

May 19th was the night I found her.

“Are you doing anything for her first birthday?”

“Oh, probably just something small,” she answers, eyes darting away as if unsure whether her words belong in the open. “With me, her, and my roommate.” I have to lean a little closer to her to hear her answer, her voice hesitant.

“You don’t want to do something with all your friends?” I ask her, unsure why she’s in the bar surrounded by people yet seems so lonely.

“Um,” she starts, still avoiding looking at me. “No, not really.”

“It will be special no matter who’s there.”

“It’s just,” she starts, and I don’t say anything—don’t even move. I don’t want to stop her from saying whatever she’s about to, scared that if I even breathe, she’ll keep it to herself. “I don’t have many friends.”

I look around, confused why she doesn’t consider the people she’s out with tonight as friends. “What about everyone here?”

Rumi looks around, and I take a moment to look down at Evee whose eyes look heavy, her lids drooping as she leans back against her mom’s chest, and my own chest aches at the sight, as if my heart is physically expanding.

She turns back to face me. “Well, Ava’s my friend.

My manager and roommate too,” she explains, pointing over her shoulder at the redhead behind her talking to Drew.

“And I don’t know Drew or Mia very well, or their husbands.

They’re all my boss’ friends.” She looks down at Evee, carefully taking the coaster out of her clenched hand, removing it slowly from her fingers to not wake her as she drifts asleep.

“They could be your friends too,” I say, even though what I really want to do is tell her that I’ll be her friend.

At the moment, looking at the sadness clouding those blue eyes, I want to tell her I’ll be anything she could ever want or need—her and Evee—but I keep my mouth closed.

“Maybe,” she says with a sigh. “And what about you? I hear you’re back in town after being gone for a while. What brought you back?”

You .

But I can’t say that. I can’t tell her that finding her, saving her, was the catalyst for me being in this bar, right here and now.

I can’t tell her that thinking about the happiest ever afters for her and her daughter were the only thing that got my mind off losing my best friend, pulled me out of my self-pity and wallowing, and kicked my ass back into gear.

Needing to clear the emotion clogging my throat, I cough into my fist. “I needed to get my life back on track.” It’s a cop-out of an answer, one that I’ve been telling everyone—including myself—for the last eighteen months yet saying them to Rumi is the first time it feels like a complete lie.

She nods but doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. There’s something in her eyes that tells me she understands the words I can’t bring myself to say.

Something that tells me she knows how hard it is to start over after you’ve almost killed yourself trying to use the burned and broken pieces leftover to rebuild, doing it over and over until you realize there’s nothing left.

That you can’t keep burying yourself in the ashes, and that it’s time for something new.

“And I don’t have a lot of friends either,” I add, hoping she knows that I understand her too.

“I find that hard to believe,” she says, and I watch as a tinge of pink appears on the apples of her cheeks. She rolls her lips together, her eyes slightly widening as if she didn’t mean to say the words.

I don’t let her dwell on it too long—more for my sake than hers. “It’s true. I haven’t made a new friend in a while. I think I forgot how.”

“I think I never actually learned how.” The admission hits me harder than anything else she says tonight, her words loaded with truths that I don’t think she’s ready to share.