Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-four

"Uh, June? I'm pretty sure that pillow started its life as a scone."

I jolt up so fast that the swivel chair would go out from under me if Dylan didn't reach out and stop it abruptly with his hand. When I look up into Dylan's frowning eyes and see the way the light has shifted in the windows, I realize I must have conked out somewhere between reading Cassie's very prompt late-night reply to my email, boxing up the last of the serving platters, and searching for every commercial kitchen in a ten-mile radius.

Dylan gingerly lifts the smushed half of stale scone from the desk I was sleeping on top of and says, "Okay. You need a real nap."

I shake my head, rubbing my palms over my eyes. Several incriminating crumbs fall into my lap. "I've got too much to do."

"Yeah, I figured. Because I had to learn Tea Tide was shutting down from Mateo, who found out from another professor, who found out from one of his students, who found out from I don't even know where," says Dylan in a rare display of what might almost be passive-aggression.

I run a hand through my alarmingly tangled hair. Word travels fast in Benson Beach, but it seems to travel faster every day. "Shit."

The plan always was to tell everyone this morning, but then that plan got slammed into sideways by the new plan, which is in such a state of flux that I figured I'd just wait until it was taken care of before I said anything. That, or maybe I just started snoring into a pile of carbs before I could get so far as to consider anyone else.

"Yeah. Sana's pissed, by the way, so watch out for that," says Dylan candidly.

He reaches into his backpack and produces one of the endless protein bars he has on hand at all times. I'm hungry enough to eat the backpack.

Dylan leans against the desk, nudging the swivel chair with his foot. "Why didn't you say anything? You were just going to pack up all of this and haul it yourself?" He gestures at his chest, clad in a shirt Mateo got for him that says LIFT OR LIFT NOT, THERE IS NO TRY.

I rip off a piece of bar with my back teeth, priming my body for the confusion of something with a nutrient in it. "I was, I just—wanted to get the ball rolling."

"Or you were avoiding us."

I blink, awake enough to recognize that this is the second time in a minute that Dylan has called me out. He has every right to, but I'm so unused to it that it feels like watching a puppy learn to bark.

"Or that," I admit. I let loose a breath. "I'm sorry. Everything just kind of exploded. I already felt terrible about lying to you and Mateo about everything with Levi, and we hadn't even gotten to that yet."

Dylan starts fiddling with the desk drawer, unable to keep still to save his own life. "June, no offense to you guys or your delicious Revenge Ex scone, but neither of us care about you guys lying about dating."

I search his face. "You seemed really excited about the idea of it is all," I say, the words sounding silly now that I'm actually articulating them. Maybe it wasn't that I didn't want Dylan to know that we were lying. Maybe even then some part of me was hoping it wasn't a lie, and Dylan believing in it made it feel true.

"Yeah, of course I was," says Dylan. "I've missed the hell out of you both."

We both go still at that. I glance down at my crumb-filled lap, feeling the shame tinge my cheeks.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "It's partially my fault Levi stayed away for so long."

Dylan waves a hand at that, and I wonder for the first time how much he knew about the situation. Growing up, I always felt like a buffer between Annie and Dylan—it was often me and Annie or me and Dylan or all three of us, but never just the two of them. It occurs to me how much that might have shifted, with me gone for all that time. I feel a sharp guilt that I've never really asked.

"I'm not worried about Levi. It's just that—I've really, really missed you." He stares at his sneakers, his jaw tense in a way I rarely see it. Dylan may be a blunt guy, but he doesn't often go this deep. "I know you've been back. And I know we hang out once a week. But even then, it's like—sometimes you get so wrapped up in trying to do everything on your own that you forget that I'm right here."

I hear the words he's not quite saying, the ones that would strike deeper than Dylan's willing to go—that I've been so wrapped up in trying to get along without Annie that I've taken Dylan for granted. Dylan, who is still right here. Dylan, who is the only person who lost exactly what I lost, whose grief is the closest shape to mine.

It's been nearly two years since I've been back, and I'm realizing this is one of the first sit-down, serious conversations we've had together. Maybe it isn't that Dylan is suddenly someone who doesn't mind calling me out. Maybe it's that Dylan's been changing, too, and I've just been so distracted by things in the periphery that I missed it happening right in front of my eyes.

"I mean, this whole thing with you and Levi planning the wedding—I was really hoping it would be a chance for all of us to hang out more," says Dylan. "And I know we've all been busy, so that's my fault, too. But what I'm saying is I want us to be able to be a part of everything in each other's lives. The messy stuff, too. Like Tea Tide. Or whatever the heck is going on between you and Levi."

I reach out and put a hand on his knee. It's strange. My whole life, Dylan was my little brother, and that made me and Annie his keepers. But in the same way a lot of things have been shifting lately, I feel something else move out from under us. The dynamic between us isn't little brother and older sister so much anymore. It's grown-up siblings who can depend on each other equally. Be each other's keepers.

"I like the idea of that," I say with a soft smile.

Dylan smiles back and nods, a little misty-eyed. He shakes it off just as fast, with the relief of someone who did what they came to do and is satisfied with the results.

"Speaking of Levi, have you heard from him at all?" he asks.

I glance at my phone. "Yeah. We're texting back and forth while he takes care of the move."

"Yeah, us too," says Dylan. He frowns. "Although the other day all he sent me was a random picture of some painting of the city he and Kelly were deciding who should keep, with a bed emoji and a question mark."

I try and fail to hold in a snort. "That sounds about right."

He nudges my chair with his foot again. "I haven't really asked him, but is everything okay between you guys?"

I nod. "There are just a lot of balls up in the air right now," I say. "But nobody's going to have another ten-year stalemate of silence, if that's what you're asking."

Dylan grins. "Mostly just wanted to know if you're going to be able pose for the cameras without one of you tripping the other on my wedding day."

I tilt my chin, leveling him with my eyes. "Dylan Hart, I promise you that your wedding day is going to be the best damn party Benson Beach has ever seen. Hell, if we play our cards right, Levi and I might very well have a future in a joint wedding planning company."

Dylan's grin softens. "I already know the day's going to go well. All the people I love are going to be there."

My eyes well with tears. "You are a big sap, little bro."

He perks up. "A big sap with big muscles," he reminds me, gesturing at the half-full boxes strewn around the back. "Let me help with this."

For so long, Tea Tide has felt like my responsibility alone that it only seems natural to try to wave him off. But it's becoming clear to me that the issues with Tea Tide weren't just that it was at a standstill. I also didn't make much of an effort to ask anyone for help. Not just my family, but people like Cassie or Nancy, who might have connected me to other small business owners in the area. I've been treating Tea Tide like an island, but it is quite literally on a very crowded shore. One that's full of people who are on my team.

"Okay," I say. "But the thing is—Tea Tide is only sort of shutting down."

Dylan tilts his head. "So Nancy's only… sort of kicking you out?"

"Oh, no, I'm fully getting the boot," I confirm. "All of this still has to get carted out of here fast."

Dylan jumps up off the desk like he's going to start lifting boxes right then and there, a known destination for them be damned.

"But first, uh—a question," I say, putting up a hand to pause him. "You've driven the track team bus a few times back and forth from meets, right?"

"Sure, yeah. Why?"

I tilt my head at him. "How would you feel about driving a massive food truck?"

Dylan's eyes light up. "Are you going to turn Tea Tide into a sconemobile?"

It feels surreal to say it out loud for the first time, like I'm breathing the idea of it into the world. "I'm going to try," I say. "Just to see if we can make something work. That way I can keep the full-timers on and keep the business running while we look for another location."

It's not a permanent solution and far from what I envisioned for Tea Tide. But it's an ember of it, one I'm certain I can fan into a flame, if I get the chance. One that really is all my own this time, because I'm starting it with my own hands from scratch. I'm doing what Annie did all those years ago and building this place back up, one step at a time.

"Okay," says Dylan, pulling out his phone. "I can assemble the troops. What all do we need to do?"

Within the next hour, I have a somewhat cohesive to-do list, and the four of us plan to spread out over Benson Beach like Tea Tide Avengers. Dylan is going to stay here and help pack up more of the back. I'm going to meet up with Cassie to check out the food truck she only uses for weekend wedding events, and then a commercial kitchen not too far off where I can rent space to bake scones. Sana is going to adapt our logo into signs that can go on the truck and start making fliers announcing the new truck and how to follow its location on Tea Tide's website—a strategy we're putting in place so we don't get mobbed by the last of the Revenge Ex onlookers by posting on Instagram. Mateo is going to look into the university and community schedules to see if there are optimal places we can ask for permits to park the truck during events.

By noon, my brain is practically spinning with the magnitude of everything there is to get done, but there's an electricity in it, a pulsing demand. I'm almost startled at the intensity of it. Even when Tea Tide was stable, I always felt like I was struggling too much to really enjoy it. Now that I'm finally letting myself play with it, now that all the old rules are being thrown out the window, I feel the same kind of visceral excitement I did back when Annie and I dreamed it up as kids.

"Have you told Levi about any of this?" Dylan asks on my way out of Tea Tide. "I'm sure he'd want to help."

"He's got a whole move of his own right now. And I'm sure he's putting finishing touches on his draft," I say. "Besides, everything will be squared away by the time he gets back. I'll tell him then."

Dylan just lets out a quiet "Hmmm."

And even though he technically hasn't said anything, I know that he's right.

I close the office door when I call. Levi picks up on the first ring, and the sound of his voice unravels something in my chest, like I can feel the familiar vibrations of it against my heart. I almost forget why I'm calling. I just want to hear his voice again.

"June?"

"Hey. Hi," I say. "Okay, I just want to start with—everything's fine."

"She said, ominously," Levi quips, but I can hear the worry in his voice just the same.

"Okay. Everything's—well. It's going to be. I just wanted to let you know that Tea Tide's lease isn't getting renewed. But it's okay," I say quickly, before Levi can interject. "I've got a whole plan. We're going to find a new location. Everything here is under control. I just wanted to let you know, so you didn't come back to find some coffee shop and thought I'd sold my soul to the devil or something."

Levi's response is so swift it knocks around the air in my chest. "I can get on the next bus."

I close my eyes and let myself feel the comfort of his words, even if I'm not going to take him up on them. "It's really all just logistics from here," I tell him.

"I don't just mean for the logistics, June," he says quietly. "I mean for you. Do you want me to come? Because if you do, I will."

I do want him here. Just the sound of his voice makes me ache for him, like I can reach across the miles and pull him into me right now out of sheer will.

But underneath that want, there's a steadiness I never felt when I thought I was in love before. The trust in Levi that whether he comes back now or comes back later, he is coming back. The trust in myself that I can be a whole person without Levi and make all these decisions with a confidence all my own.

I spent most of my adult life chasing after that kind of trust, and only now that I feel the depth of it between us do I realize it isn't something you catch. It's something that you build.

"I want you to finish things up there," I say firmly. "Same as I will over here. This whole thing with Tea Tide is like you rewriting your manuscript—this is my rewrite."

There's a quiet beat, and then Levi says, "If you change your mind, I'm on the next bus."

I feel another kind of trust right then. A trust Levi has in me not just to know what I need right now, but to tell him the truth. And the respect he'll have for that decision either way.

I press the phone closer to my ear. "I know," I say quietly.

He must sense that I have to go, because he says, "Good luck."

"You too," I say. "And by the way—I don't care what hideous painting you hang over your bed. You still get a pass from me."

A lot of things are about to change, but the satisfaction I get from making Levi laugh will never get old.

I start searching through the dusty metal cabinets in the back of the office then, digging in deep for the first time since I took over. Somewhere in one of these drawers I know Annie kept a big binder full of all the recipes she created for the scone ideas I'd sent her. I still want to make new ones, but now that we're starting fresh—now that we're starting on my terms—I don't feel the same ache I felt at the idea of bringing back the old ones. I want to infuse the past with the future. A mix of what it was and what it will be.

The binder only takes a few minutes to find. Underneath it is a whole mess of loose papers that I'm planning on ignoring, except I recognize that neat, tidy handwriting, and my eyes catch and don't let go.

It's Levi's. I pull the papers out, all beaten up and creased at the edges, and skim them. It's a slew of ideas for stories. Some of them just a few words, some of them fleshed out with several paragraphs. Some with character names and settings, some just with a feeling. The kind of thing he probably did in a class one day and passed over to Annie to see if anything stuck out to her.

Maybe none of the story ideas will be helpful to Levi down the line, but the reminder will be. He was brimming with story ideas once. If he opens himself up to them, he could be again. And if he wants someone to talk them out with, the way he did when we were kids, I'm here to soak in every word.

I tuck the pages into the binder, his old magic with mine. Then I flip the pages and start looking through the scone recipes one by one, each more ridiculous than the last. I pluck a few of them out to start, the ones closest to my heart—the rosewater-flavored Oopsy, Not A Daisy scone inspired by the time I picked flowers surrounded by poison ivy and ended up itching a rash the whole time I was visiting Annie at Stanford. The ham, egg, and gruyère cheese Wakey Fakey scone from the time I ate a croque madame after taking a red-eye flight to Paris and apparently had an entire, deeply expensive conversation with Annie about it that I still can't remember to this day. The pretzel and peanut butter Flight Risk scone from when Annie joined me on a trip to Amsterdam and we had to sprint through the airport like we were in an action movie. A map of places we've been and memories we scored into our hearts. A roundabout way of coming home again.

I soak them in, only balking for a moment when I realize how much work Annie put into all these concoctions I made up. But as soon as I think it, I hear her words clear as day, like she was waiting for this moment when I was already steady on my own two feet to say them: Just try not to fuck up.