My phone buzzes with a text. Sam, asking if I got lost. I text him back that I’ll be right there, but I do go out of my way one more time to pass by the Sailboat Rentals and Lessons hut. There’s a guy behind the counter, but it’s not Walker, so I just pass by without stopping.
When I get back, Sam gives me a look. “What’d you do, go home or something?”
“Sorry. I . . .”
“Here,” he says, handing me three bags. “Daily Wagner kid order. They’re not at their boat, though, they’re over at the little swimming beach. And they don’t have any cash. Jackson said to put it on his tab. Because we do that now, and they’re starting one.”
I look down at the large bag, which holds an awful lot of food for two kids.
“They wanted to buy lunch for their sailing teacher,” he says. “I thought you might wanna bring this one.” Before I can answer, he disappears back into the kitchen to grab the next orders that are ready.
I walk slowly. It’s one thing to think about the possibility of seeing Walker again after yesterday, but it’s another knowing that I will. I try to think of what I’ll say. I can’t exactly give a big, heartfelt speech about him saving my life in front of the kids. It might even be weird to say thank you again. But then, not acknowledging it seems strange too. I don’t know how I’m going to face him, but now I have to.
I try to calm the butterflies as I walk, but by the time I reach the end of the sidewalk where the swimming beach is, they’re swirling all the way up my chest and into my throat. I spot him right away. He’s crouched behind a little sailboat, which is beached just outside the swimming area, holding a water gun. Jackson and Dylan creep toward him from the opposite side, communicating with a series of hand gestures, their own water guns at the ready. When Jackson gives the signal, they charge the boat, letting out wild warrior calls, and Walker jumps up to defend himself against the attack.
It takes all of thirty seconds for them to empty their guns at each other, and at the end of it, there is no winner—or maybe they’re all winners. They’re all soaked. They stand there laughing, claiming victory over each other, and it makes me laugh too, like I’m a part of it. I step over the low seawall, and Dylan sees me and comes running over.
“Liv, you just missed it!”
Walker’s head snaps in my direction at the mention of my name, and the smile disappears from his face. He turns and reaches into the boat for a towel. I watch as he stands, back to me, and dries his shoulders quickly.
“We just crushed him in a water war, and now he has to buy us ice cream later, that was the bet.”
“That’s awesome . . .” I watch as Walker grabs a shirt and a hat out of the boat and puts them both on. “Lucky you,” I say, taking a few steps down the beach.
Jackson comes up to meet me and takes the bags from my hand. “Oh, good, we’re starving! Walker! I got us lunch!” he calls. He looks at me. “Your brother let me start a tab, so I ordered extra. You should stay.” He reaches into one of the bags and comes back up with a handful of French fries that he stuffs into his mouth. “He even said you could.”
“Who?” I ask, glancing at Walker.
“Your brother.”
I look at him. “You asked him if I could have lunch with you?”
“Yeah,” he says, with no other explanation. “C’mon,” he says, motioning with his free hand.
For a second I wonder who this kid thinks he is, but when he shoves another handful of French fries into his mouth, I realize he’s pretty much Sam. The mini-version.
Dylan grabs my hand in both of hers. “Yes! Stay! Pleeaassseee!”
I glance at Walker again, and when our eyes meet, he starts to pack abandoned squirt guns into the boat.
“I’m not sure I . . .”
I don’t get to finish answering because Dylan pulls me down the beach after her brother, where they already have their towels spread out as a makeshift picnic blanket. I watch Walker out of the corner of my eye as I sit. He busies himself with something in the little sailboat without any indication that he’s going to join us.
Jackson pulls a cheeseburger and fries out of the bag and stands. “Dude, I got you lunch. Come eat.”
Walker looks at him. “Thanks, buddy,” he answers. Then he looks at me. “But I’m gonna need to take it to go. I need to get outta here—get the boat back.”
The butterflies in my stomach fall like leaves to the ground. He’s going because of me. I can feel it.
“Aw, I thought you were gonna eat it here on the beach with us.” Dylan pouts.
“Next time,” Walker answers, and he gives her a tight smile. “Promise. You guys have fun with Liv, here.”
He turns and takes a few steps toward the boat, but then stops. His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath, then he reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. Turns and looks at me, not the kids.
And then he comes back to where I’m standing. The butterflies take to the sky again.
We look at each other without saying anything for a moment, and his eyes soften like they did for just a split second during the interview, and it’s the first time I’ve really gotten to look at him. His red baseball cap is turned backward, and his dark hair escapes from beneath it, curling up around the edges. I can feel myself looking too long at the way the stubble on his jawline comes up to meet it, but I can’t help it.
He holds something out between us. “I found this on the boat. It’s broken—I think it came off when . . .” He glances at the kids, whose eyes I can feel as well, then brings his eyes back to mine. “I was gonna give it to you yesterday, but that was . . .” He shakes his head.
“Kind of a mess,” I say. And then I look down.
In his hand is a thin chain, broken, like he said. And next to it, the medallion that I recognize immediately but hadn’t even realized was missing until just now.
“Wow,” I say. “Thank you.” I reach out and take both from his hand, hold the medal up in the sunlight. It makes me smile to see it. I look at Walker. “My friend brought this back to me from a trip she took to Italy when we were in seventh grade. She didn’t know what it was when she bought it, and it was so funny when we looked it up because it turned out to be a Saint Anthony, who’s the—”
“Patron saint of lost things,” Walker finishes for me. “Guess it actually works.”
I nod slowly. “I . . .” My head is swimming. “I was wearing this?” It surprises me, with the whole me-and-Jules-not-being-friends-anymore thing.
Walker looks at me strangely. “Yeah. Anyway. I need to get back.” He turns and walks back to the boat before I can say anything else.
Dylan waves. “Bye, Walker!”
“See you tomorrow!” Jackson adds.
He gives the kids a wave, then pushes the little sailboat into the water and jumps in. And then, like it’s nothing, he angles the boat away from the shore where I stand, without so much as a glance back. I watch as the wind catches and fills the small sail of the Laser, and I would keep watching until I can’t see him anymore, but Dylan comes over and tugs on my hand again.
I look down at her and she smiles up at me.
“You lied. You guys are totally friends.”
TWENTY