Page 112 of Heartstring

She rolls her eyes again. “Last month when we were in Vermont. Nan helped me get what I needed. She said I shouldn’t be embarrassed to tell you about it and that you’ll get used to buying tampons or pads for me.”

Oh god. I am so not ready for any of this. My baby girl is growing up too fast. Periods? Girls?

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you’ve been busy with the gig and helping Tyler. I was going to tell you when it was all over and everyone left again.”

I nod.

“Sylvie is right. I’ll do anything you need. Even if I have to buy all brands of tampons in the store. You name it. But back to the matter at hand. You know, if we stay in Stillwater, it’s only a matter of time until someone takes a photo of us together. This isn’t like Vermont, where everyone knows Bastian and his family and is super-protective of all of us.”

She nods. “I’d like to go out with you and not care about other people. Do you remember when we came here in the summer and visited that lake? I’d like us to go back this summer. Screw the press. They’ll get bored of us anyway.”

I’d like to think she’s this brave because she takes it from me, but I think this is all her. She was born like this.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Tyler looked a little sad earlier.”

“I know.”

“Are you going to make it better? I like him.”

I smile. “I like him too. And yes, I am.”

Seymour comes down the stairs when I message him using the number Tyler left on the table.

“In case you saw or heard about it, I kissed Tyler after the gig. It was an accident,” he says. “If you can’t tell the difference between a passionate kiss and a kiss of comfort, then you’re not the man for him. If you’re not willing to wait to hear someone else’s side of the story, then you’re not the man for him.”

His expression is neutral, but I can see the cool undertone.

I nod and hold my hand up, glad when he extends his and shakes mine.

“I’m glad Tyler has someone like you in his corner. I probably don’t deserve your help, but I’ll ask for it anyway.”

35

TYLER

NOW

Stan dropsa sock at my feet, taking me away from the staring competition I’m having with my laptop screen because, one thing’s for sure, I haven’t typed a single word or looked at a report since I opened it.

“What do you want?”

He nudges the sock in my direction.

“I’m not playing this game with you.”

He whines and sits at my feet.

I sigh. “I’m sorry, Stan. This isn’t your fault.”

No, it’s entirely my fault for hoping that what I had with Mik was strong enough. It’s my fault for wishing for something that was never mine to begin with.

Over the last three days, I’ve become a recluse. Seymour has tried his best to bring me out of my funk, but even he’s given up and mostly stays in his room working when he’s not at the animal sanctuary in Chester Falls.