Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Annie, the window, please?” Stephen asked, wiping the sweat that had begun to form on his brow. His hands were wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. He concentrated intently on the unfamiliar stretch of road, following the car’s navigation system direction onto the highway ramp.

“I feel like the air is wrapping its hands around my throat and suffocating me slowly. How can anyone survive this?” he asked in his typical, overly dramatic fashion, feigning a fainting spell against the driver’s seat.

Annie took a final deep breath of the South Carolina air. She tried to inhale all of the lingering nostalgia out of the stale air - the burning asphalt, the fragrant summer freesias, and the almost briny scent of the earth. Home. Annie formed an apologetic half-smile in Stephen’s direction and begrudgingly rolled up the window.

“Oh, yeah sorry.... once you get through one summer here, you get used to it,” she reassured, “just give it a couple of days and you’ll be a Serenity native.”

“Can’t wait,” he said, clearly unconvinced. Stephen’s eyes returned to the road. When Aunt Helen had called Annie to ask if she would do the town an immense favor and showcase a Serenity-themed series at the Serenity Centennial Celebration, Annie had leaped at the chance. Serenity and photography? Barely had the words left her godmother’s mouth before Annie was already opening her laptop to book the plane tickets. Stephen was beside her at the time, and when he knew what she was jumping around about, he begged for the chance to join. Her boyfriend was desperate to experience the, as he put it, “little Americana town summer vibe.” She racked her brain about the possibility.

Sure, he had already met her mom and dad several times on visits to Monterey, but he had never come back home with her. It was a big step. A huge step. That was what being with Stephen was like. He pushed her to take risks and be spontaneous. It was one of the many qualities she loved about him.

Now here they were. 10 miles out from a week's stay with her family and extended town family to celebrate 100 years of her favorite place. Annie did a final refresher test with Stephen on everyone that he was now going to meet, purposefully skipping over the blended Townsend clan. Stephen passed easily, but for all his born-and-bred Californian coolness, she could tell that the trip was making him uneasy.

Annie didn’t voice it, but the truth was that Stephen probably should be nervous. Sure, he had already met her mom and dad several times on visits to Monterey, but he had never been to Serenity. Serenity folk were undoubtedly kind, yet they tended to be suspicious of new faces. Annie wasn’t sure how his West Coast energy would manifest in Serenity. It was even difficult for her to visualize Stephen in her small hometown. Stephen, her lanky photographer boyfriend, whose air of artsy snobbishness was common among a lot of people in their line of work, but not in rural South Carolina. He was indifferent to sports, so dragging him to a baseball game was out of the question. He was a strict vegan, which hadn’t gone down the best with her chef mother, so summer barbecues might also prove to be an issue.

When Annie thought about it, other than photography, she and Stephen had very little in common. They had met one evening during their final exhibition showcase at college when she had overheard him criticizing the lack of movement in her photo series on national park rangers. In a move that was entirely uncharacteristic of her, she confronted him on the spot. To her surprise, he only laughed – a bright, unrestrained sound. He explained that he hadn’t slated her photos to bring her down, but that critique was its own art form, and he only said what was necessary for the sake of better art. He winked and left her standing motionless in front of her photos. She stared at them intensely as if for the first time, wondering if he might be right.

After graduation, she was working on putting together a portfolio for a job interview at a prestigious photography journal. His words rang in her mind, and she found herself unconsciously adding in more dynamic photos from her park ranger series. She and her roommate Andra were beside themselves, jumping around their apartment when she got the call that she had landed it. And what were the chances that she would see a familiar sandy head of hair at the office reception on her first day? They turned out to be coworkers, and it felt like fate.

Two years had passed at lightning speed, and they had moved in together and even adopted a little calico cat that she had named Camera. It was all feeling very adult and serious. Their jobs as photojournalists, while rewarding, didn’t translate into steady paychecks weren’t the most financially stable, and they struggled at times. Annie was used to working odd jobs through college, so she easily picked up side gigs here and there to make rent. Stephen would have helped out too, if not for his unique creative process that meant that he stayed up all hours of the night developing film and sleeping through the day. 

Annie didn’t mind their tiny studio or the long hours; being able to pursue photography made it all worth it. She felt that if she could just pitch this one major spread that she was working on to Time Magazine, the magazine would offer her dream full-time position. The meeting was scheduled during the festival week, so she hoped she would have enough time to put the final touches on her photos and show the interview panel a true expression of her art.

She was mentally going over the latest arrangement of the pitch spread when she was knocked out of her mind palace as Stephen turned up the crackly radio in the beaten-up rental car. A familiar voice lilted through the speakers, singing about the freedom of young adulthood over a poppy, bass riff. The song had spread like wildfire all over the internet, topping all the viral hit charts.

Since the song’s release, she had not been able to find a single cafe in all of Monterey where she could sip a lavender latte in peace without being assailed by the tune. Annie had nothing against the song, and she loved pop hits as much as the next person. The lyrics were catchy, the production was clean, and it would have been perfect - if it had been sung by anyone else on the planet.

“Hey, isn’t this guy also from Serenity? Stephen asked, continuing,

“My cousin Janey is an insane fan of his. She’s a living human encyclopedia about this guy’s life, and we are subjected to it at every family gathering. The information just kind of sticks with me now against my will,” he laughed, “Like I don’t even know my own blood type, but I know this guy’s.”

Annie turned her head to look out the window, as though she was suddenly very interested in the trees that blurred as they sped on the highway. Her eyes grew darker than their already naturally deep hue. Memories that she hadn’t thought about in years bubbled to the surface of her mind. A once-shy, insecure high school girl had known all there was to know about someone before. She emphasized the word “before” in her mind, focusing on it to try so that she could shove the rest of her recollections out of her mind.

Stephen kept going, taking no notice of Annie’s mental gymnastics, “Did you know him? I think he’s around our age. Wouldn’t you have been at school around the same time?”

Annie’s face turned a deathly shade of pale. She cleared her throat and tried to maintain an even tone of voice when she replied,

“Everyone knows everyone in Serenity,” she forced out an off-kilter laugh, “it’s a very small town.”

Annie had tried to stay in contact with Ty after that Christmas six years ago, but something was different after their famous argument. He had been incredibly apologetic afterwards, saying that he knew it was wrong to ask her to abandon her dreams for his. She had forgiven him at the time, but they mutually agreed that it might be better to remain friends while Annie was studying and Ty was off touring. She could focus on her studies, and Ty would be able to focus on his music. Neither of them had seemed particularly thrilled at the conclusion, but as they had failed to come up with any better ways to make the situation work for both of them, they anti-climatically parted ways. As quickly as it had begun, it was over. Looking back on it, she couldn’t find fault in the eager youthfulness that sparkled like sun rays bouncing off the oceanic blue of his eyes. The naïveté of believing in the cliche of love conquering all. She had desperately wanted to believe in it, too.

She remembered the incessant flow of tears that final summer as she packed her whole life into a few suitcases. She would stay up all night racking her brain for solutions, imagining that this was all just a dream and that she would hear the rattle of a pebble thrown at her window. That it would be Ty begging her to give them one more chance. But the nights were silent, and she stopped expecting any grand, sweeping gesture of regret. In the mornings, she would attempt to hide the evidence of her puffy eyes from the watchful eyes of her parents. She had told them what happened and was forced to constantly reassure them that she was fine. That this was all for the best. That it was a blessing. She had even researched high school relationship breakup statistics. 70-75% of them ended after graduation. It was all expected. It was all normal. She and Ty were just like anyone else. And somehow, through the stress of packing and moving across the country, she was able to compartmentalize the anguish and focus on adjusting to her new life.

As the fall came and Annie started school, the two had sporadically texted, trying to keep up whatever casual friendship they had maintained before dating. They quickly learned that time zones and hectic schedules can easily get the best of anyone, and before they knew yet, their friendship started falling through the cracks.

A couple of texts and photos a day had turned into one message a week, to one a month, to just ones on holidays, and then just the obligatory, “Happy birthday!”

However, run-ins with each other were something that they had ironed out perfectly. They never said it aloud, but neither of them wanted to be in Serenity at the same time. Not because they couldn’t stand to see each other, but more about the fact that they didn’t want to be seen together in front of the inquisitive, and almost pitiful stares of their families and the town.

To avoid the awkwardness, they had implicitly worked out a deal. Each one got a Christmas in Serenity every other year. So far, their system had been working so perfectly that they hadn’t spoken more than a couple of sentences in two years, yet they had never run into each other in Serenity, But when Annie got the phone call about the festival, Aunt Helen had subtly but not-so subtly dropped a hint that there would be other artistic segments of the festival, including a fundraising concert with Serenity’s most famous musicians.

Annie didn’t have to be a genius to read between the lines of Aunt Helen’s legalese - Ty would be there too. She had written so many apology texts to Aunt Helen in the week leading up to the festival, telling her that she had to drop out, but she couldn’t bring herself to send them. Annie couldn’t let her aunt and Serenity down. That just wasn’t Annie.

After all the time that had passed, she felt that she was more than capable of facing her teenage boyfriend of only a few months. Perhaps, she would barely even recognize the guy. Based on the information she gathered from her friends and shameful late-night searches, he seemed to be doing  quite well for himself - an arena tour, a couple of American Music Awards, People’s Choice Awards, four top #10 Hot 100 hits, and of course what people were now dubbing the “song of the summer.”

With all that success, his ego may now be swollen to the size of a small country. She didn’t know the first thing about celebrity schedules, but she imagined they didn’t have too much time to dwell on old high-school flames or chit-chat with them when they were busy parading around as hometown heroes. It honestly didn’t matter what he was like now. It didn’t concern her in the slightest. She had done a lot of growing in California, and as she glanced at Stephen humming to Ty’s song, she felt that she had done a lot of moving on, too.

But as they hurtled down the road getting closer and closer to Serenity, her stomach twisted in knots. It seemed to be warning her it may not have been the best idea to return, especially with Stephen in tow. She shut her eyes tightly, praying that she could make it out of the next week ordeal-free, but she had a sneaking feeling that her prayers would be in vain.

Chapter Text

Ty felt like he could collapse at any second. After six years of the “rockstar” life experience, he still couldn’t overcome the impending fatigue of jet lag. He had been traveling more than 15 hours directly from a show in London to the airport and connecting through New York to get to Charleston. 

Sleeping on planes was also a skill he had never mastered, so just as he was about to let his eyelids droop during the hour-long drive to Serenity, he was poked awake by his Uber driver telling him they had made it.

Groggy and delirious, he stumbled into his childhood home, craving the sense of relief he would feel when his head could finally hit his pillow. Instead of the calm morning scene he expected, Ty felt like he had stepped into the pit at one of his gigs. The house was packed with people running around like headless chickens set loose in a craft store. He saw groups swirling glitter paint across huge pieces of canvas and others inspecting printed flyers stacked into tall piles like a paper mountain range growing across the living room.

No one in the house had even noticed his entrance, and a girl he didn’t recognize almost hit him in the head with a massive “Fortune Telling $5” sign. 

“Hey, could you watch where you’re going?” he asked innocently, smiling at the oh-so-typical Serenity chaos around major events. 

The girl turned, ready to cast a harsh glance at the intruder, but it immediately softened as she noticed who had said it. A small blush crept to her cheeks. 

“Oh, Ty! Welcome home!” she said louder and in a pitch that was not in the human register. 

This greeting trickled through the house, and all eyes turned to him. Everyone quickly dropped what they were working on, and a crowd formed around him, only parting for a short figure whose deep auburn hair was pulled up in a ponytail. 

“Mom,” Ty said, eyes melting into puddles of relief at the sight of her. 

His mom practically jumped into his arms, and he clung to her tightly. His tour extension through Asia and Europe had meant that he hadn’t seen his family in five months. This translated to more than a year in Serenity time. When he let her go, Maddie studied him, noticing his red eyes and rumpled clothes. 

“You need to rest,” she said matter-of-factly. 

He nodded in agreement.

“Well…. we’ve had to turn the house into a de facto command center. Space is limited these days in Serenity. The spa has already been turned into the food storage hub, the school gymnasium is housing the construction materials and AV equipment, the town hall is now the media junket area, and …..” Maddie said, racking her brain for another place. 

“And the library is reserved for rehearsals,” said a sweet voice that appeared to his right. The voice belonged to a high school-age girl, one hand holding a clipboard and the other propped on her hip. She was also wearing some type of walkie-talkie device attached to a headset. 

“Katie Townsend, head of event coordination and logistics,” she said proudly, introducing herself. 

Ty turned to face her, straightening his posture and saluting his younger sister deferentially, before gathering her in a hug. 

“I would expect nothing less, Madam Student Council President,” he said. 

“Future-President.  The school year hasn’t even started. But I will win. I’ve been gathering votes since last year. It's not easy winning as an outsider,” she replied confidently. 

“I don’t think scaring people into voting for you classifies as winning them over. The best rulers inspire love, not fear,” shouted Kyle, who had just appeared, running down the stairs still in his pajamas. Katie glared at him. Ty could tell that this had been a continuous point of tension between the two.

When Kyle had reached the familial gathering by the door, he playfully slapped his brother on the back in greeting. Ty winced slightly. 

“Welcome to the homeland…..weary world traveling bard of infamy… travelers never did lie… though fools at home did condemn them,” Kyle pronounced in a practiced, vaguely English accent.

“Uh…nice to see you too?” Ty tried.

“Yeah, man!” Kyle exclaimed genuinely. 

By now, the novelty of his celebrity entrance had worn off, and Katie ordered everyone back to work. The volunteers obeyed her with what Ty sensed to be a hint of fear on their faces. Katie answered a call on her headset with a “Go for Katie,”  before waving goodbye to Ty and disappearing into the chaos. 

“Why don’t you drive him over to Aunt Helen’s? She should have a calmer space for him,” Maddie asked Kyle pointedly.

“But Mom…,” he pleaded, “I'm still jet lagged too…and I should preserve my strength for my 24-hour Twitch stream next week. My fans and the whole town are depending on me. If we can’t raise the money, all will be lost! Sayonara Serenity!” he said.

Kyle’s performance was the opposite of a glowing recommendation for the acting classes he had been taking. 

“You live in Los Angeles, not Antarctica. And you’ve already been here a week. If you’re still tired, we probably need to take you to see Dr.Howie,” she said knowingly, pressing the truck keys into Kyle’s hand. 

Kyle smiled cheekily, “Worth a shot,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. He grabbed Ty’s bag and guitar case off his shoulders and headed towards the garage. 

Maddie grabbed Ty’s hand as he moved to follow Kyle. 

“I’m so happy you’re home. Thank you for coming,” she said earnestly.

“I’m happy too,” he said, although he wasn’t being entirely truthful.

On the drive to Aunt Helen’s, Ty tried to concentrate on Kyle’s ramblings about his subscribers and sponsorship deals for his now lucrative D&D streaming collective. Most of the discussion was entirely incomprehensible to Ty.

Ty had never understood how Kyle had managed to persuade his mom to drop out of school and move to LA before his senior year to pursue a streaming career. Kyle still had to promise to complete his GED online, but rather than being stuck in history or math classes, he had started a company. A real-life company with more than 50 employees.  His little brother was somebody’s boss. The thought made him shudder.

As Kyle continued to speak animatedly about a gaming convention that he had attended last month, Ty did feel an undercurrent of pride run through him. He admired how brave Kyle had been to chase whatever he wanted unapologetically and unashamedly. Ty wished that it came as naturally to him as it did to Kyle. 

At least his mom and Katie seemed reinvigorated now that they had fully moved back to Serenity last year. As much as New York had been an adventure for them, and they did still return to Serenity almost every holiday, he knew that Serenity was where his family belonged. He mentally emphasized that he meant his family, but not himself. 

He wouldn’t call himself Serenity’s #1 fan anymore. Being back here made him feel 17 again. 17 and stupid, especially when he remembered his last high school relationship. It wasn’t the abruptness of how it had all shattered to pieces that had persistently bothered him, but rather how he could not visualize any way to patch it back together. Entirely lost, he had sought out his best source of advice, his stepdad, Cal. 

When he described the situation, Cal thought about it deeply and told him to imagine this baseball scenario.

“It’s like your team is down by one run in the bottom of the ninth, with a runner on third base and one out,” Cal said. 

“Are you supposed to be describing my situation?” Ty asked, “Your guidance is that there’s no way to win and I should give up?”

“Wait. Listen,” Cal cautioned, “but what if the coach calls the batter to the plate to pull a suicide squeeze bunt?” he asked. 

“Oh, so I’m supposed to kill myself?” Ty asked dryly.

“No,” Cal said, trying to maintain his patience with the moody teen, “It means that the runner on third will already be sprinting towards home before the pitch is even bunted. It’s a gamble because if the batter makes good contact and lays down a good bunt, the runner has a good chance of scoring, and even tying and winning the game.”

“And if the batter misses?” Ty asked.

“In that case, your runner is probably out and you’ll lose,” Cal explained.

“So even if I let her go, just like that, I could still lose?” Ty asked, clearly disappointed with the counsel. “And what should I be trying to hit? This doesn’t make any sense.” Ty said.

“Nothing in life is certain, Ty. There are so many decisions you’ll be forced to make that you may see the results of tomorrow or potentially not at all. All you can control is the space you can give people to make their own choices, and hope that in time they may lead you back together. Maybe then you’ll have the chance to try and bat.  And if not, in time, this pain and powerlessness you feel will fade. You’ll go on to other games and learn from this. You’ll play better.”

Ty listened to his stepdad, but it all sounded like comforting lies to him. Ty thanked Cal for the advice and apologized to Annie. He did realize how wrong it had been to ask her to sacrifice so much for him, but not willing to do the same for her. They had reached a crossroads that meant a dead-end for their relationship. 

Getting on the road that summer six years ago with the band, he had thrown himself headlong into the music. A new city and a show every night allowed him to be deluded that he didn’t want to be in love anymore, and truly convinced that he wasn’t. But when it came to writing new material for their first album the next year, it was the only subject that he could write about. Like a wound that he repeatedly stitched up and reopened with every word he put to paper, his writing process became a cathartic and slightly sadistic exercise. 

Fully understanding that it wasn’t the best coping mechanism, he sought out alternative sources of inspiration, trying to write over his hurt with other people through an unending string of one-time encounters. It failed and only succeeded in making him disgusted with himself for leading those girls on. He decided he was better off alone. This emotional turmoil had, however, done wonders for the band. The songs that catapulted the Serenities to fame were the ones with his most heart-wrenching, raw lyrics about the past. 

When the band decided to go their separate ways, he went with the flow and followed his management’s advice to try out a solo act. He hadn’t realized that standing alone onstage without Olivia or his other members would bring him inexplicable terror. Forced to come up with a solution quickly or risk his entire career, he found that as long as the songs that he performed were about her (and they all were at that time), he found that he could lose himself in the words, almost imagining she was there in the room, and overcome the stage fright.  

Offstage, however, the storm clouds of misery would manifest like an inescapable plague. He oscillated between anguish and just plain old embarrassment. How pathetic was he to still be pining after someone he had only dated for three months as a teenager? He knew it was ridiculous. In the rare chances he had to meet up with Gabe in Boston, where his best friend was now working as a sports agent, Gabe would agree wholeheartedly, evidently exasperated at the renewal of the same topic over and over again. 

It wasn’t for lack of trying on Ty’s part. He had attempted to get closure, thinking that that may be the solution, but she hadn’t wanted to see him. Why else would she have suggested the rotating holiday schedule so that they never met? When he played his first few solo shows in California, he would make sure to send her tickets and backstage passes. Without fail, they would always be sent back with an increasingly creative list of excuses about work, taking a cat to the vet, or rescuing a cat off the road. She would profusely apologize, but she shouldn’t have bothered. He got the hint. He stopped sending tickets.

Yet, no matter how many times he thought that he had successfully washed the memory of her away, he would return to Serenity, and it would all slam him in the face. Her complete disappearance from his life only exacerbated the issue. Without her there to ground the situation in reality, his mind was free to run rampant on what-ifs and supposed-to-bes until he had successfully dragged himself into a downward spiral of regret. When his obligatory visits to Serenity were over, he couldn’t leave the town fast enough. 

This strange haunting was generally contained to the boundaries of Serenity, except for one strange incident that had happened about three years ago during a show in LA. He had a tradition in the middle of his concert where he would ask the lighting crew to turn on the house lights so that he could see the audience better. The crowd went crazy for it, each audience member harboring fantasies that Ty might notice them in the crowd and ask them to be brought backstage. He had never brought anyone back, of course, but that didn’t stop their imaginations.

However, that night, as the lights illuminated the faces in the arena, Ty swore that he could see a familiar face in the nosebleeds, swaying to the music. He might have dreamed it, but he was so sure that those dark eyes that pierced him through the crowd belonged to her. Just as he was about to call out her name, the lights dimmed, and he lost her in the crowd and was prompted by the band to continue into the next song. After the high of that show had worn off, he couldn’t shake off that image. Her enigmatic smile. Those eyes.  He thought that he had finally gone insane. Lots of singers had to be hospitalized for exhaustion and stress, but when his doctor told him he was one hundred percent healthy, he knew he had to make a change. 

The next day, he took a stand. It was past time to stop plucking at the carnage of that relationship. It was nothing then. And it was nothing now. This resolution made him hopeful. He had once thought that Cal’s advice was nonsense, but maybe his stepdad was right. Just as Cal predicted, the self-loathing and anger slowly faded into background noise, and he almost felt like the old Ty again. 

The only drawback to this healing was that his songwriting ability took a severe hit. He had exhausted everything there was to say about her, and he drew a blank on what to write about. But his label didn’t care in the slightest, and they were more than ready to supply him with the most marketable, hit-ready singles. Unable to overcome the creative drought, he accepted them uneasily. The songs turned out to be massive, especially the one he had just released. He didn’t even understand the lyrics of it, they were entirely nonsensical and meaningless. That was what the public loved. 

Some of his older fans were disappointed in his new musical direction, so far removed was it from the angst-filled brutality of his earlier work. But that musical well had dried up, and he wished he could have explained the situation to those fans. He had no choice but to continue to perform the safe, non-offensive, viral-hit slop. 

Another element of his healing was the deliberate avoidance of any mention of her. If his mom or Kyle or Gabe ever tried to causally name-drop her into their phone conversations, he would immediately change the subject. It wasn’t healthy for him to know what she was doing. Soon, the person he had once known better than he had known himself turned into a perfect stranger.

And he was quite reassured that it would stay that way even as he came back to Serenity for the festival. He had looked over the flyer that Aunt Helen had texted to him and hadn’t seen any mention of her in the schedule of events. Did he feel infinitesimally disappointed? Even if he had, he would never have admitted it, not even to himself. He could not afford any distractions. He was focused on spending time with his family and helping Serenity in whatever way he could at the festival. 

With his intentions for the week solidified, Ty realized that Kyle had just pulled up to Aunt Helen’s house. Kyle told him that she wouldn’t be at home, so he let himself in with the key under the mat. Ty opened the door and practically dropped dead on the first couch he saw, utterly ecstatic to turn his brain off. 

He awoke to the sunlight burning his face through the gaps in the curtains. He sat up against the cushions with some difficulty. It took him a couple of seconds to get his bearings. He ran over the basics in his mind. It was already tomorrow.  He was on Aunt Helen’s couch. In Serenity. He was here for the Serenity Centennial Festival. He was supposed to perform a new surprise song next week. A song about the “Spirit of Serenity.” He had not written said song. He had zero ideas for the song. He was…. screwed. He groaned, burying his face in his hands. 

After downing several cups of the coffee that Aunt Helen had left for him, he noticed a note from her on the counter. It instructed him to head to the town square, where he might make himself helpful to Cal and the construction team who were in the process of building the food and activity booths. He speedily showered and rummaged through his bag, trying to find anything that would help him look presentable and less like a living zombie. Surveying the results of his efforts in the mirror as he headed out, he wasn’t too convinced of his success.

The morning air was heavy with humidity. This would have bothered most people, but Ty inhaled it deeply. It smelled of moss and earth and home. He strolled down to the town square worksite and made a beeline toward the tall figure of his stepdad, who was conversing with a group of volunteers. Ty yelled out a greeting as he got closer, and he was overwhelmed by Cal’s bone-crushing handshake. 

During his travels, Cal had made a consistent effort to keep in touch with Ty. Other than his mom, his stepdad was his biggest cheerleader, never failing to send him positive reviews of his music and funny comments from his fans. They say a musician’s life is lonely, but with Cal in his corner, Ty had not felt it. 

Cal introduced Ty to the volunteers and said that he didn’t need to do anything. He could just hang out and watch them work. Ty vehemently disagreed, fully offering his services to the construction team. What Ty needed to be doing at the moment was concentrating on writing the surprise song, but he preferred not to think about it. Cal reluctantly agreed to let Ty help and directed him toward a small working area. Cal tried to show him how he should construct the small fair booth, but Ty waved him off confidently, bringing up how he had helped Cal and Erik with the baseball academy. Cal seemed ready to argue with him on that point, but he decided against it and left Ty to his own devices. 

Alone, Ty stared at the pile of plywood, nails, and tools and grasped how in over his head he was. He had done that construction work, but that had been with supervision and instruction from Cal and Erik. And it was more than seven years ago now. Looking around, the volunteer team was almost frantically putting booths up, and he didn’t want to bother them. It just was planks and nails and hammers, how hard could it be?

He struggled for the better part of an hour, failing to complete even a piece of the jigsaw that was the booth. It kept going lopsided for some reason, and the nails wouldn’t stay in the planks. But Ty refused to admit defeat to his stepdad, so he kept going until his fingers were full of splinters, and sweat had completely seeped through his t-shirt. 

Just as he was about to throw in the towel, he heard an unmistakable tread of shoes on the pavement behind him. Ty recognized who it was without having to look. He couldn’t have even seen who it was if he tried, because as soon as he turned around, he was blinded by a flash of light. 

“How much do you think TMZ would give me for this picture? she asked, lowering her camera to let it swing from the strap that ran across her body, a coy smile growing on her face. 

Ty stood there, completely paralyzed, not by her words, but by her presence. His brain couldn't even begin to process the sight before him. Annie had always had an ethereal kind of beauty, but the person standing in front of him was completely striking. The California sun had given her skin a bronze glow, contrasting against the simple white sundress that she wore. Her dark hair tumbled in soft, effortless waves down her back. He noticed that her entire posture had changed, too. She carried herself with a surety he had never seen before. She was radiant . 

It was like someone had gone and pulled the thread that he tried to stitch himself up with for six years. All of it unraveled as he faced her. His eyes tried to take in every inch of her without blinking, like he was afraid that this was another hallucination. 

“Annie,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. 

“Ty,” she said simply, registering his shock. But if she seemed surprised to see him, she didn’t show it.

“Hi,” he managed to croak out.   

“How have you…. been?” she asked, with an evident put-on casualness. Ty could tell that she was curious about more than his general well-being. 

“Good. Yeah, great actually. Super uh, super great. Just been helping Cal set up these booths for the festival,” he said, gesturing to his disaster project. He suddenly became very conscious of the state of his appearance. He attempted to surreptitiously run his hands through his hair, wipe the sweat off his face, and gently peel his soaked shirt away from his torso. 

She surveyed his work carefully, “Serenity must need serious help. I didn’t think they would put precious town celebrities to work like that. Or is this some sort of therapy scheme where you spend a couple of hours with normal people to better reintegrate into society?” she joked, but with a hint of seriousness, evidently trying to gauge Ty. She shrank back imperceptibly. 

“You’ve caught me out on that one,” he said. Wanting to put her fears at ease, he played into her lead, “I was just learning about this fascinating thing called, now I’m not sure if you’ve heard of this term ‘manual labor,’ where they hit these metal things against pieces of wood and build something as a kind of ‘job,’ he said, his words dripping in sarcasm. 

“They say it’s fulfilling, but I think actual payment would be way more rewarding. But, they refer to this type of work as ‘volunteering,” he said this last word as if it was his first time pronouncing it, comically elongating each syllable, “So it’s all for nothing really,” he concluded nonchalantly. 

Assuaged by his familiar nature, she laughed. It was a sound so lovely and reminiscent of brighter days that it felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. 

“It’s good to see you,” she said sincerely. 

“What are you doing here?” he blurted out. The question came out harsher than he intended. 

She frowned, “Going to see Aunt Helen inside her office,” she said pointing to the town hall building.

“No, I mean here ,” he said, gesturing with his arms to the general surroundings. 

“Same as you, I guess…. or maybe more than you? I’m actually trying to help the town, not destroy it,” she said, pointing at the wonky booth.

“Hey! This is what it’s supposed to look like! See, it’s done,” he said triumphantly, placing a single nail on top of the object. As if on cue, the entire structure immediately collapsed into a heap of dust and splintered plywood. 

He scratched his neck, his cheeks turning a slight shade of red, “Why don’t we forget about all this, and I’ll walk you to Aunt Helen?” he asked sheepishly. 

She agreed and they began to step towards Town Hall. He forced himself to stare straight ahead, or else he would be unable to stop staring at her. The intense effort made him forget he should probably say something to her before it was too awkward. He racked his brain for a vanilla, inoffensive topic. He settled on asking her how long she had been in town. I

“So you’ve uh..been back in Serenity for a while now.. Or uhm …leaving soon… or got here just now…?” he asked clumsily, fumbling through the words. 

Annie was well-versed in Ty-speech and immediately launched into her story of almost missing her flight to California and then the rental car company messing up the reservation. To anyone else, this would have been the kind of mundane anecdote that you half-listen to, politely nodding along to what you assume to be the correct points for agreement. Not Ty. He hung on to every single word that fell from her lips, like a shipwrecked pirate who stumbled on a source of fresh water for the first time in days. In his rapt attention, he noticed that she kept referring to a “we,  ” and then he caught a name, “Stephen .” Ty also observed that Annie kept this person genderless throughout her story. Whether this was on purpose or not, he couldn’t tell. Who  Who the hell was Stephen? He hoped that was her pet cat. Or a girlfriend from California where people gave their kids unconventional names like Ocean, or Ember, or Apple, or Stephen. 

Trying not to obsess over the Stephen mystery, Ty launched into the description of the army of volunteers he had witnessed at his mom’s house. Annie grinned. She had a similar experience at Sullivan’s that very morning. 

“Classic Serenity,” Ty said, identical, bittersweet expressions crossing both of their faces.  

Ty felt extremely relieved at how easy and natural it was to talk to Annie after all this time. At least that would never change between them. But before he could continue to enjoy it, Aunt Helen cut their conversation painfully short as they crossed the threshold of the building. Before Annie whisked Helen away, obviously desperate to ask her something, Ty began to quickly thank Aunt Helen for allowing him to stay with her. Helen’s eyes widened, remembering something, and she shot a glance at Annie before pulling Ty to the side, out of the girl’s earshot.

“You’re so welcome, honey,” Helen started, “ It’s just there’s been a slight change of plans,” she said. Ty looked at her perplexed.

“My mom and Eric’s family called me yesterday to tell me that they’ve decided that they want to come to the festival now and that they’re expecting to stay with me from tomorrow,” she said. Ty nodded slowly. He was starting to understand where this was going. 

“Ah… so I’ll need to find another place to crash,” he said, “That’s fine Aunt Helen…. of course….. it's your family. I’m sorry that I intruded,” he said.

"Let me try to book a hotel in Sumter," he suggested, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check. 

Aunt Helen shook her head rapidly. She explained to him how large the festival was expected to be and that every hotel and motel within a 50-mile radius of Serenity had been completely booked months in advance, but she assured Ty that she had already made other arrangements. 

“I spoke with Dana Sue, and luckily, she has a free spare room. She was more than happy to offer it to you!” Aunt Helen said. 

Ty suddenly felt very ill. Maybe he was still asleep, and this was a nightmare. When he pinched his arm and nothing happened, he sighed deeply. 

Putting on a special smile that his media training coach told him to use when answering uncomfortable interview questions, he said, “That’s amazing Aunt Helen. Thank you.”

"Good man," she said, "And I can't wait to hear that new song," she said in a low voice accompanied by a wink. 

Having done her duty, Aunt Helen left to rejoin Annie, who had been staring at the pair with an indecipherable expression. Ty stayed rooted to the spot. He mentally cursed Serenity and this godforsaken festival. Why did he care so much about this stupid town? Nothing good had ever happened here. 

So much for his plan of avoiding Annie. He would have rather that Helen told him that he should sleep in a ditch by the road. Instead, he would be forced to spend a week under the same roof as her. With Stephen. Whoever that was. He really hoped that Stephen was a cat.

Chapter Text

Annie’s interview portfolio was missing something. She had tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. The heaviness of anxiety grew in her chest, making her heart beat as if she were running a marathon rather than lying in her childhood bedroom. It certainly wasn’t going to impress Time Magazine. What she needed was a story pitch with a solid set of photos. 

She was originally going to use the photos she planned to shoot for the Serenity exhibition, but Stephen vehemently disagreed. Her idea was to highlight 100 years of Serenity by photographing important Serenity landmarks of today and displaying them beside archival prints from the past 100 years. Stephen was not jazzed, saying that it was too stale and derivative. According to him, she needed something more provocative.

“The interviewers will probably have seen millions of photos of quaint little towns stuck in the 50s. It’s not exactly a unique perspective. You need to challenge them. Force them to remember you. Look to the future Annie. The future is all about digital. That’s what we need to be embracing,” he lectured.  

Annie wouldn’t say she was entirely convinced, but she had to admit that his creative direction was usually unparalleled. With his advice, she had scored small mentions on blogs like Feature Shoot and Lens Culture. It wasn’t much, but Stephen had already been featured as one of the, “50 Young Photographers to Watch Out For” in Aperture Magazine. He had also apprenticed for Peter Lik, an infamous landscape photographer well-known for his pompous asshole personality and questionable business tactics. Annie thought Lik’s work was garish and shallow, but Stephen worshipped the guy. And with all that experience, no one could deny that Stephen knew photography. Without his advice, she might not even have achieved her modest success. Annie’s mind flittered to her college days before she had known Stephen. How insecure she had been. Her failing grades. She shuddered to think of it. She refused to go back, so she continued listening to Stephen.

“How about you do those Serenity landmark photos, but display them beside AI interpretations of how Serenity will be 100 years from now?” he asked. He raised his eyebrow, almost challenging Annie, daring her to think of a better concept.  

Annie hesitated, “But you know I’m not good with digital… how could I do the second set?”

Stephen placed his hand on his chest, “With my help of course,” he said obviously.

“But would that be considered my work then?” she asked. 

“Annie, the whole thing is your vision. Think of me as your right hand. Your paintbrush. An artistic tool for you to use. I’ll take care of it.” he said proudly. 

Annie weighed the offer in her mind. She was nervous, but she desperately wanted that staff position. It could change her whole future. Make all the sacrifices mean something. Even if a piece of her remained doubtful, she was already agreeing. She trusted Stephen. Serenity and the future. It had a hopeful ring to it. 

But staring at the star stickers on the ceiling, she still felt unsure. She wanted Stephen’s reassurance, but he was holed up in her parent’s spare room, developing rolls of film. He preferred not to be disturbed during his late work sessions. Stephen was very secretive about his process. He explained to her once that his “ productive energies must be protected. ”  

When she heard the familiar clang of the pots downstairs, signaling that her mom was starting breakfast, she pulled herself out of bed and dressed. She was running out of time for doubt. The exhibition and the interview were days away, and she hadn’t taken a single landmark photo. Before leaving the room, a glint of light from the shelf above her bed caught her eye. Curious, she went over to investigate. The sun had caught the two lenses of a small boxy, black camera. A breath caught in her throat. It was the Rolleiflex 2.8F that Ty had bought in Nashville for her. 

It was a beautiful piece of equipment, with a waist-level wayfinder and pop-up magnifier. You had to load film into it manually, and each roll of expensive film only had 12 exposures, meaning you had to be very intentional with the shots. But the results were well worth it. The images turned out sharper, and the colors were richer than any she had ever taken with her conventional SLR. 

She had thought about taking it with her to college, but she didn’t think she’d be able to blow tons of her already meager allowance on it. That or she couldn’t separate the gift from the gifter. And here it had remained on the shelf for six years. She paused for a second. With a will that was not entirely her own, Annie rummaged through her desk drawer, pulled out a roll of film, and tiptoed around Stephen’s sleeping figure, snatching the camera off the shelf. 

A full spread of her favorite chocolate chip pancakes, hashbrowns, bright orange canteloupe, and freshly buttered toast greeted her when she flopped down at the breakfast table. Her mom always went all out when Annie returned home. It was a welcome change to the cup noodles and canned soup that she and Stephen’s freelance photography commissions afforded them. The sight of the food immediately lifted her spirits, but she guessed that the evidence of her tumultuous evening was still written on her face when her mom asked, “Were you able to sleep ok? You look a bit off. Was it the new pillow I bought? Or does Stephen snore?” 

The casualness of her mom’s question startled Annie. Truthfully, her mom’s entire attitude towards Stephen had confused her since their arrival in Serenity. Stephen had met her parents before, but she had warned Stephen that Dana Sue’s characteristic passive aggressiveness and stalwart traditional values were amplified in Serenity - the source of her power. Dana Sue was overbearing to a fault, something Annie had become accustomed to dealing with in her 23 years of life, and she didn’t want Stephen to suffer.

But she immediately felt silly for all of her caution when her mom seemed almost kind to Stephen from the minute they entered the house, not even commenting on how he hadn’t removed his baseball cap or how he had not complimented the dinner that Dana Sue had meticulously prepared. When it came to the room arrangement, Dana Sue had stayed silent at Stephen’s suggestion that he and Annie stay in the same room together, as they did in California. She thought her mom was doing her silent, furious act, but Annie later found Dana Sue adding pillows for Stephen on Annie’s bed.

Annie couldn’t gauge whether time or acceptance of Stephen had changed her mother’s attitude because she had never acted this way with any of Annie’s exes. Except for Ty, of course. When she and Ty had dated, Annie felt that her mom trusted Ty more than her. After the breakup, Annie felt that her mom was secretly convinced that it was primarily Annie’s fault. And maybe Dana Sue was right. But now, Annie felt like her mother had turned a new leaf and trusted Annie’s decisions. 

Annie smiled and answered her mother. “Oh no, he was working all night. I was just thinking about my photos. Not sure if I’m capturing the right spirit for the celebration,” Annie confessed. 

“Why don’t you get Aunt Helen’s advice? There’s no better stamp of approval than the mayor’s,” Dana Sue said. 

Annie agreed. Her godmother would give her the objective guidance she needed. Annie left the house and jogged towards Town Hall, the Rolleifex bumping against her hip.

Standing in the Town Hall lobby, watching Ty and Aunt Helen in huddled conversation, Annie was exerting all her effort to stop her limbs from trembling. Her body was humming with jittery energy like those late evenings in college when she’d gone too hard on the lattes. She may have potentially, slightly, or majorly overestimated the confidence with which she’d approached Ty in the square. After noticing him from a distance in deep concentration on some kind of construction project, she hyped herself up with encouragements like, “You’re not 17-year-old Annie anymore, you can speak to people!” and “ Celebrities have the same bone structure as everybody else!” These worked to an extent, and she did approach him, but only with her camera over her face as a makeshift protective shield.

When she pulled the camera away and looked at him, she wasn’t struck by the seemingly airbrushed, glaze of celebrity that had coated him. That and time had undoubtedly refined his classically handsome features, his strong jawline, well-defined lips, and straight profile of his nose. She had seen that effect innumerable times in Los Angeles, with its resident population of the ultra-famous; it didn’t surprise her to see it on the man in front of her. Although she did note a hint of shock at her appearance pass over his features before quickly disappearing. And she knew him-or used to-well enough to understand that he hadn’t expected her to be in Serenity at all. 

What startled Annie was how much of Ty she still recognized. The warmth in the serene blue of his eyes. And that smile. That wide, inviting grin, beaming with self-assuredness and a glint of playfulness. It reminded her of a job she had taken to capture promotional photos for an inn at Lover’s Point. It was an awful day. None of the pictures were coming out right. The lighting was too harsh, and the composition was all off. She had been just about to resign herself to return on another day when golden hour hit. 

The sun suddenly turned a magnificent shade of fiery orange, throwing majestic pink and light purple hues across the clouds, in perfect contrast to the white ocean foam. Annie stood enraptured by the scene. How foreign yet familiar it felt. How it had melted away, even momentarily, the self-criticism that was continuously floating around her mind. She snapped the photo, wishing she could remain in that glow forever, but knowing that the sun would disappear into the horizon. When she returned home, she had the picture framed and hung it in the living room, against Stephen’s strong protestations that it threw off the room’s feng-shui. Annie didn’t care; she loved it, and it stayed up above their couch. 

She couldn’t recall most of her and Ty’s conversation. All she knew was that silence in conversation scared her, so she went about babbling about who knows what in front of him. She mentally kicked herself. If only he had changed to be so unrecognizable that she could have pretended to be speaking with a new acquaintance, instead of having to dance around their history, the large missing gap, and the present. She needed to get it together.

In the mayor’s office, Aunt Helen had seemed skeptical of her digital proposal for the photo exhibition. She had never heard of something like that, but as long as Annie felt she could do it, it might open up the celebration to a newer, more artistically inclined audience. Annie assented, feeling marginally better about the plan. Before she left to start her photo session, she asked Aunt Helen a question, “Did you not tell Ty I was coming to the celebration?”

Helen smiled conspiratorially, “And why should I have?”

“You know why. You even warned me,” Annie said. 

“Annie, darling …. There are times when people need to be pushed off-balance to regain it,” Helen mused. Annie looked at her godmother with a puzzled expression, trying to piece together her meaning. An aide knocked and entered the room, reminding her about a press conference that was about to begin. The mayor and her staff member spoke in worried, hushed tones, and Annie took the opportunity to secretly snap a photo of their exchange. When the two separated, Helen announced her departure, giving Annie’s hand a gentle squeeze goodbye and leaving her alone in the room.

Annie was not interested in going to The Grain. She had been just getting into the groove of her shoot and finally fixed the exposure settings to capture Serenity’s weather-beaten architecture when her friend Lily called to remind her about the welcome home get-together that she was hosting at Isaac’s bar for all the legal, young adults of the town. Never one to decline an invitation from a friend, Annie yielded. She packed up her equipment, went home, got ready (with only slightly more than the usual attention to her appearance - for no particular reason), and trudged over to the bar-café with Stephen. 

The Grain was a delightful space. Isaac had worked his magic on a run-down 1920s bakery, converting it into an incredibly charming dual-use cafe and bar. In the daytime, he maintained the building’s original function, serving some of the best pastries and coffee in Serenity. But the evening is when the place really came alive. Time seemed to slow down in the bar, the soft twinkling lights and dark wood enveloping patrons in a dreamy haze before they had even taken a drink of one of his Serenity-inspired cocktails. Isaac had also set up a small stage at the back of the bar where they would host local musicians or poetry readings. It had become an instant hotspot for Serenity residents as soon as it opened, and there was never a slow day or evening. It was continuously filled with the rumble of conversation and the clink of drinks from the cozy leather-lined booths. 

That evening, the Grain was even more packed than usual, owing to Lily’s power of persuasion and her extended Serenity social circle. Shortly after their arrival, she left Stephen at the bar. He was engaged in a lengthy discussion with Issac about the merits of craft IPAs which she was a spiel she had already heard millions of times before. She was certain that she would be able to find her boyfriend again in the packed park because of his grey linen blazer and short set. He had complemented his ensemble with a wide-collar dress shirt and a pair of brown leather loafers. It was a stark sartorial contrast to the sea of jeans, flannels, and sneakers worn by the rest of the crowd. She greeted Lily and Cece, but the din of the bar made it difficult to get a word in. Promising to meet them later, she continued wandering through the bar. 

Scanning the room, she couldn’t help but notice a large group that had formed around one of the booths. Looking closer, she spied Ty at the center, evidently relating a hilarious story to his audience. They were fully invested, seemingly hanging on to every word he said, as if they worried they might miss something. Famous or not, Ty had always had that effect on people. It was like he had a magnetic, almost cosmically powerful, forcefield around him that drew people to him wherever he went. His presence had a special way of gently commanding attention. Annie used to joke that he was born for the spotlight, destined for fame from the day he was born. He would always laugh and deny it. For him, it was simple. He just liked people. They energized him. But it wasn’t a vampiric-type situation where he didn’t give anything in return. Being in Ty’s orbit made people feel good. Important. Exceptional even, as though someone was seeing and appreciating them for the first time. Her heart ached faintly. She had forgotten that feeling. 

Turning away from the scene, she made a beeline for an empty seat at the bar. She ordered a Shirley Temple from Isaac’s very-buff boyfriend, Mark. Stephen would make fun of her for ordering such a childish drink, but she got the taste of alcohol. The strange bitterness and funny way it made her limbs feel numb. She thanked Mark when he brought the glass over and immediately popped the maraschino cherry in her mouth. She took a long sip. It has that sickly sweet grenadine flavor, and the bubbles of the soda were extra crispy. Perfect. 

“I’ll have what she’s having,” a familiar voice to her left said to Mark. Ty, clad in all black, appeared on the stool beside her. He looked straight ahead, his profile illuminated by the soft light of the bar. He placed his elbows on the bar. The subtle muscles of his arms were accentuated through his impeccably cut t-shirt. Trying not to get caught staring, she brought her gaze back down to her glass and swirled her straw mindlessly around the red liquid. 

“You used to hate anything sweet,” she said matter-of-factly. 

She felt Ty studying her for a moment. He gave a slight shake of his head, “You know I think I’ve developed a taste for it,” he said easily. 

When Mark placed a similar drink down in front of Ty, he took an unnaturally long sip, draining about half of the glass of the bright drink. Annie looked at him out of the corner of her eye, noticing the almost imperceptible contortions in his face, like a child forced to take cough medicine. 

Ty stopped drinking and coughed slightly. “Yum…Just how I like it. Pure, liquid sugar,” he said, trying to hide a grimace of disgust. 

Annie laughed in triumph, “Liar! You still hate it.”

Ty looked at her in mock defeat, his hand rubbing his stomach in small circles. He pushed the glass over to her and leaned over to speak in her ear, “Here. You can have the rest. My treat,” he said softly. His proximity sent a small shiver down her spine. Unconsciously, her heart began to beat rapidly against her chest. Worried that he might hear it, she pulled away from him and accepted his glass. It was only after she started to drink it that she realized that she hadn’t switched out the straws. Was that weird? Would Ty think it was weird? They had always shared things growing up, and she guessed that the habits were still ingrained. Was there a rule on sharing straws with exes? Was “ex”  even the correct word to describe Ty? Was there a single word to encapsulate their tangled relationship? Son of her mom’s lifelong friend, her childhood best friend, boyfriend of three months, and once love of her life? 

As she was debating these conduct, semantic, and emotional quandaries, she felt an arm wrap around her waist and a chin resting heavily on her shoulder. Her nose was assaulted by the harsh and abrasive scent of Stephen’s signature cologne. 

“Hey! O-negative!” Stephen exclaimed, pointing at Ty.

Ty looked at the interloper, deeply confused. Annie explained quickly, “He has a cousin who’s a big fan. Knows a lot about you.”

“I see…..,” Ty said, with a raised eyebrow, still not sure what to make of the situation. Giving Stephen a once-over, he asked, “And you must be?”

“Stephen. Professional photographer and Annie’s boyfriend,” Stephen said, extending his hand to Ty.

Ty’s jaw clenched slightly, and he hesitated before shaking the offered hand, albeit with a touch more force than what would be considered a friendly handshake.

Stephen pulled his hand away from Ty’s grip and looked at Annie, “Thought you said you didn’t know the guy.”

“Oh no. I didn’t.. say it … like that necessarily,” she wavered, eyes darting between Ty and Stephen’s inquisitive gazes. At a loss for words, she futilely wished that there was a fracture in the Earth’s crust beneath the Sippery that would suddenly swallow her up in its depths. Instead, she remained stuck between them. 

Ty interceded. “She didn’t. We just met now, actually. She was just giving me drink recommendations, Anna was it?” he asked Annie with a wry smirk.

Relieved at this new way out Ty created, she corrected him, “ Annie, actually. And yes, we must have missed each other in high school. Different grades, I think,” she said, trying to hide the amusement from reaching her face.  

Stephen nodded, believing the story. He then bent down to whisper to Annie that they should leave. He complained that he was getting bored and needed to go back to check on his film. She gave in, not wanting to start arguing in front of half of the town. She turned around, intending to say goodbye to Ty, but her heart sank when she saw the empty bar stool. He had already disappeared somewhere into the crowd. 

The evening after Lily’s party, Annie invited her two friends over for a Mini Magnolia gathering. As they were all nursing various levels of hangovers (and Annie with none at all), Annie opted to offer their old high-school staple, milkshakes. They were alone in the house, her parents were over at Aunt Maddie’s, and Stephen had gone on one of his “ creative recharge ” strolls so he could start on the AI visualizations of Annie’s photos. From experience, Annie knew these could last for hours, so she was happy to know she could maximize the amount of time with her friends. It had been a long time since they had gathered like this, now that Cece had started as a paralegal at a Boston law firm and Lily was pursuing social media marketing in New York City. Annie was grateful that the Centennial had given them a reason to reunite this summer. 

“So…..what did you guys think of him?” Annie asked, serving up comically large milkshake glasses, complete with small peaks of whipped cream and topped with maraschino cherries.

The two girls thought for a moment, and Cece started. “Well, we all know that he was good-looking in high school, but we should never underestimate celebrity glow-ups,” Cece said.

“The limit does indeed not exist,” Lily said, nodding and sipping her drink. 

Confused at the turn of the discussion, Annie attempted to course-correct her friends. “No, not Ty , I’m talking about Stephen. What do you think? Remember him, my boyfriend? He said he met you guys at the bar,” Annie asked, searching their faces. 

Lily and Cece exchanged glances. They fought a small battle with their eyes, neither of them wanting to speak first. Cece sighed and took the lead.

“Well…does he pass the Big 3 test?” Cece asked, nonchalantly swirling her straw around her glass.

Annie burst out laughing, “Big 3? You’re still stuck on that?”

“It’s real, Annie,” Lily said earnestly. She emphasized her words with her straw, waving it as if it were a teacher’s pointer and sending small dots of whipped cream flying across the kitchen. “if the boxes aren’t all checked… then he can’t be the one. It’s the law.”

Cece carried on, “Ok, it’s not technically a law, but look at me and Gabe. My Big 3 qualities in guys are honesty, ambition, and a niche nerdy hobby. Gabe has never once lied to me, and he knows that I hate surprises. He even told me that he was planning to propose so that I could be prepared. Isn’t that amazing?” Cece said, eyes sparkling with love.“And I’ve never seen someone with a work ethic that’s almost as strong as mine.”

Annie looked up from her milkshake, a perplexed expression on her face. “But Gabe is like the most mainstream person we know. There’s no way he has a hobby we wouldn’t have heard of,” she said.  

Cece smiled, “He does now, and it’s two words. Rock. Cleaning. He lives for it. Has this whole tumbling kit set up in the garage. If he’s not working, he’s polishing rocks,” she said. 

“Sounds very romantic,” Annie said skeptically.  

“And look at where you’re at now,” Lily said to Cece fondly.

“6 years strong,” Cece said, proudly holding up her hand and wiggling her fingers, showing a sleek engagement band. 

Annie still wasn’t convinced. This Big 3 theory had come up after Lily had learned it in a mandatory sorority ritual. Thinking it to be utter crap when Lily had presented it to them, Annie had never paid full attention to what the test was, but Cece and Lily had taken the test as relationship gospel.  Determined to bring her friends over to the side of reason, Annie continued, “But that’s just one example. That’s not how you prove theories, like scientifically. You need tons of solid and undeniable proof.”

“Ok, so how about me?” Lily asked, twirling the hair that escaped her space buns, “My Big 3 are…he has to speak French. And second, he has to look like a slightly emaciated Victorian child. And for three…he has to have a wispy mustache. The wispier the better,” she said. 

Annie rolled her eyes, realizing her friend’s meaning. “Isn’t that just a description of Timothée Chalamet?” Annie asked. 

Lily started, “Exactly!” And see! That is why I’m still single. There’s only one Lisan Al Ghaib, and he has no idea that I’m waiting for him,” she said sadly, wiping an imaginary tear from her cheek. She slumped into one of the high chairs and planted her forehead on the island. 

“And if we know anything about our dear, little Annie-bell, your Big 3 are…” Cece started.

Lifting her head from the pillow momentarily, Lily pronounced, “Artsy, definitely. He’s got to have a creative vibe.”

“And charismatic for sure, you love that,” added Cece, “And….you also love when people are generous and polite. So that would be something like….?”

Lily bolted upright. She clapped her hands together and said, “Graciousness.”

Cece nodded and said, “Yep, that’s it.”

Annie observed this exchange between her two friends incredulously. 

“That’s… that’s…. ok, like I guess you could say that I admire those qualities, yeah, but!” Annie said with mounting frustration. Color rose to her cheeks. She continued in an exasperated tone, “People contain multitudes, you know, and you shouldn’t judge whether your relationship will work out based on random criteria! It’s so unfair!”

“What’s got you all worked up, Annie? Does Stephen not pass?” Lily asked.

Before Annie could answer, Cece jumped in. “Hmmm.. based on my observations, Stephen is standing somewhere between a 0 and 0.5 out of three,” Cece judged, “The 0.5 is for those sick loafers he was wearing yesterday. Those were cool. Need to remember to ask where he bought them.” 

“But he’s a professional photographer, how could he not get a point for that?” Annie spluttered, involuntarily being pulled into the examination. “He has all three!”

Lily jumped in. “I disagree. He showed me his stuff. Maybe I don’t get art, but those were so…. how to say it… blah. Really boring…..like the kind of pictures they hang up in dingy motel rooms,” Lily said.

The comments were starting to feel personal to Annie. “They’re meant to be introspective. You have to look deeper into them and sit with them for a while to understand,” Annie explained. 

Cece added, “He showed me like 1,000 of his chromatic beach pictures. I had to text Gabe an SOS to rescue me from him.”

Lily sighed. “If only I could have been that lucky! He insisted that I hear this story about his friend who quit working at Meta to develop psychedelic NFTs for his ‘ conscious community ’,” she lamented with air quotes, “I don’t even know what NFTs are!”

“Isn’t it like a cult thing?” Cece wondered. Lily shrugged her shoulders. 

Annie took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. “Girls, you know how much I love and respect you?” Annie asked, reaching out to hold their hands. “But this is all - respectfully - nonsense . I love Stephen, with or without this Big 3.”

Lily and Cece nodded at each other, mischievous smirks growing on their faces. 

“You passed,” they pronounced in unison. 

“Excuse me?” Annie asked.

“If you had ever listened properly to the Big 3 explanation, you would know the most important part of the test is the defense of your significant other. Doesn’t matter if you're for or against the person having the three things, as long as you fight for them either way. That is what will tell you if they’re the one,” Cece explained. 

“Oh,” Annie said in a small voice, embarrassed by her earlier agitation, “That makes slightly more sense….so, does that mean you like Stephen?”

“It doesn’t matter what we think, Annie! That’s the whole point!” Lily exclaimed.  

“If you love him, then we love him,” Cece said with finality. 

A smile returned to Annie’s face, and she got up and playfully shoved both of them in turn. “You guys are insane,” Annie said. 

“It’s the Mini Magnolia way. Unhinged and proud!” Lily cheered. The trio laughed hysterically. Annie felt a pang of melancholy. She hadn’t realized how much she missed her friends in California. How long she had been away from Serenity. They stayed together for an hour, laughing and reminiscing over their unchanging high school stories, when the doorbell suddenly chimed. 

“That must be Stephen,” Annie said, “He’s back early.” Her forehead scrunched in confusion, which was unlike him. 

Cece looked down at her watch. “We should probably take that as our cue to leave,” Cece said, standing up from her chair. They walked behind Annie to the door, and she opened it. She was taken aback when, in place of her boyfriend, Ty Townsend stood on the porch. 

“I’m sorry… I… uh… didn’t realize that you had company,” Ty said apologetically, spotting Lily and Cece behind Annie. “I was supposed to meet your mom, is she around?” he asked. 

Before Annie could answer, Lily had already replied, “Unfortunately for you, we were just leaving. But you better not pull an I’m-too-famous-for-my-old-friends schtick and not hang out with us while you’re here.” She stared Ty down with an unimpressed glare. 

Ty beamed, “I won’t - promise.” 

“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, Ty,” Lily said with a seriousness that Annie felt implied a warning beyond breaking promises about summer hangouts, but she didn’t know what. Ty nodded solemnly as if he fully understood Lily’s meaning. 

Lily sidestepped Ty and started down the steps, Cece following her. “You know who has always passed your Big 3?” Lily called out mischievously to Annie as she walked past Ty out the door. Cece and Lily began to emphatically point at the man on the porch behind his back. Ty remained oblivious to their antics. Annie rolled her eyes. Her friends had a deep affection for ancient history which she did not share. “Goodnight Lily. Goodnight Cece,” she said, shooing them away. Their deep-bellied laughs pierced through the Serenity evening, fading as they made their way down the street. 

“My parents are still out at Sullivan’s,” Annie said, returning to Ty. 

“Oh,” he said disappointedly, “would you give her a message for me? I would have preferred to explain in person, but..” He shuffled awkwardly on the porch, unsure of what to do. 

“What’s up?” Annie asked, arms crossed over her chest defensively. What business did her mom have with Ty?

“Uh..well.. your mom offered to let me stay here, but I’m going to crash at Gabe’s. Just wanted to thank her and let her know so she wouldn’t worry if she didn’t find me here,” he explained. 

This was news to Annie. Ty? Stay here? What was her mom thinking? Was she insane? Annie was going to have a strong conversation with Dana Sue when she returned home. 

“Oh, did you not want to stay with your own family?” The question came out harsher than Annie had intended; the blind-sided decision-making from her mom irritated her. 

“No, they’ve just kind of co-opted my room to run the festival,” he said. She could sense his disappointment. Maybe his family had blindsided him with some decisions of their own, too. She immediately regretted her unnecessarily blunt tone. 

In a much gentler tone, she continued, “Ok I’ll tell her.” She added,  “Katie runs a very tight ship it seems.” Ty smiled at that and thanked her. He began to awkwardly shuffle on the porch, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Like the other night, he seemed to debating whether or not to ask Annie something. The porch light illuminated him from above, like an angelic halo. 

Unsure, Ty began, “How is it for you….being back here….in Serenity,” he faltered, but continued, “Do you like it?”

She considered the question and responded carefully, “It’s…different.” Ty’s expression seemed to read that she hadn’t given him the answer he wanted. Amidst the silence that followed her answer, Annie became acutely aware of the chirping of the cicadas and the gentle dance of the breeze through the trees. 

“Better different?” Ty tried. His eyes keenly observing her, Annie sensed the gravity he had buried in the question. The air felt charged with electricity. 

Annie hesitated, “I…..I’m not sure. Maybe it’s not Serenity that changes, but us.” She thought for a second and ventured, “It’s like when you try to use a newer camera. Even if you take a picture of the same place, they won’t come out the same. The older ones will have a softness and warmth that can’t be replicated, but their colors won’t be as vibrant or accurate as the newer ones.”

Ty nodded slowly, thinking over her words. After a second of quiet contemplation, which felt like an eternity to Annie, Ty finally replied. 

“Goodnight, Annie,” he said in a soft voice. The finality with which he pronounced it had made it sound more like a “ goodbye.”

“Goodnight, Ty,” she responded, trying to keep her voice even. He turned to leave, and she closed the door. She sank to the floor and buried her head in her hands. What was it about Serenity that made her lose all her sense?

Chapter Text

Ty’s had always been hyperaware of Annie. It didn’t make a difference if it was an empty field or a bar packed with people; he could easily pick her out of a crowd. It was like being outside and knowing where the sun was in the sky because you could notice where the light hit the trees or where shadows formed on the ground. It didn’t take any effort on Ty’s part. It was natural. And the night at The Grain was no exception. From the minute she entered, along with that tall, strangely dressed man beside her ( Stephen , he guessed), he watched her.  Gabe, one of his oldest friends, was also aware that Ty was like this and sighed beside him in one of the booths. 

“Are you just gonna do this routine for the entire night?” Gabe asked in a low voice, watching Ty continuously scanning the crowd

“No… I just….haven’t had the opportunity.” Ty stuttered, embarrassed to have been caught.

“Right, with your flock of admirers,” Gabe said sarcastically, gesturing to the group that had gathered around Ty. 

“You know you’re my favorite out of all them,” Ty quipped sarcastically, winking at his friend. 

“I know for a fact that I’m not,” Gabe laughed, “and I’m spoken for already.” Gabe wrapped his arm over the shoulders of his fiancée, Cece. 

Ty smiled. He was happy to see his friend happy and in love. But to tell the truth, it hurt a bit too. He thought that he would be at that stage now with someone. He looked over to the bar. Annie was sitting alone, one arm propped up and supporting her chin. The seat next to her was empty. Ignoring all the faces whose attentions were all trained on him, Ty immediately slid out of the booth past them and sat beside her. 

Ty had honestly forgotten that Stephen existed until he sidled up to Annie. He wondered if the sight of him and Annie had made people feel as revulsed as he did now with her and Stephen. A piece of him wanted to stay in that seat and intrude on their conversation. For what purpose he couldn’t articulate. What was he trying to prove? But the guilt and shame at those flickering thoughts crept in, and Ty slipped away unnoticed. 

He begged Gabe to let him stay over at his place. Ty had to throw in backstage passes for Gabe’s nieces, but his friend finally agreed to let him sleep on the couch.

After the strange evening he had after stopping by Annie’s place, Ty decided to spend the day clearing his head. He went looking around the rest of the festival preparations. People he had never met would come up and ask him for a photo or to sign pieces of paper. Or point as he passed by. Or whisper excitedly. This was behavior he was familiar with but had never understood. Not wanting to be rude, he greeted them politely and kept moving. Eventually, he ended up in the Artist’s Corner, a special exhibition tent near the town square that housed Serenity-themed paintings and art pieces. All the pieces were going to be auctioned off through a silent auction, with all the proceeds to help fill the town’s bleeding bank account.

Ty wandered inside the massive white-clothes structure, eyes mindlessly glazing over mini-Serenity building recreations and watercolor interpretations of the lake. Making his way through the maze of Serenity memorabilia, he found himself in front of a curtained-off portion towards the back of the tent. A large sign advertising “ Serenity - 100 Years to Go” was raised above the makeshift entryway. To Ty’s surprise, a man in a fedora popped out from between the two curtains and said in a disappointed tone,

“Oh, it’s you.”

Following the sound, Ty met Stephen’s gaze and let out a confused, “Hi to you, too?”

“Well, since you’re here, I guess you can have a look,” Stephen said, into the hidden space.

Not sure how to decline, as Stephen had already disappeared and slightly curious about what was being hidden, Ty stepped through the curtain. His eyes needed a second to adjust to the difference in light. The room was draped in black fabric that didn’t let any hint of the mid-afternoon sun into the rectangular space. Hanging on the fabric were small photographs, each lit by a warm spotlight. Ty moved closer and studied the pictures. He instantly recognized the subjects - Serenity landmarks: Town Hall, the fire station, the library, the high school, and even the baseball diamond. There wasn’t anything wrong with the photos necessarily, but they seemed extremely cold to Ty. He had never seen those places so empty, like someone had turned Serenity into a ghost town. And even stranger was that each picture had an accompanying twin. 

If he had to describe it, he would have said that the pictures looked like those concept art pictures of movies that are sold in huge, heavy books. And these seemed to be ones from some sort of zombie apocalypse dystopian movie. The buildings had been cartoonishly enhanced to caricatures and then made to look destroyed by something like nuclear warfare.

Ty would have never proclaimed himself an artistically inclined person, but he couldn’t help but feel depressed when looking at each set of pictures. And he couldn’t understand why this would be included in a celebratory exhibition. The person who took these either hated Serenity or had no understanding of the town, and didn’t understand the meaning of a “festival.”

Ty looked at Stephen. His few interactions with the guy had not been entirely positive. Not because he was Annie’s boyfriend. He didn’t care about that; it was more about his entire demeanor. The way he looked at everyone with an air of superiority as if to say, “Yes, you are stupid with your small-town brains, and you might as well be too stupid to even notice it.” Maybe it wasn’t that harsh in actuality, but Ty felt that if anyone was capable of taking these kinds of pictures in Serenity, it could only be one person.

“So this is all your stuff?” Ty asked Stephen. 

“Nah, but it might actually be worth somethin’ in all this Thomas Kincade-esque junk,” Stephen said in a mocking tone.

Noticing that this had not illuminated his point to Ty,  Stephen continued, “You met my girlfriend the other day, Annie, remember? This is all her. Helen is keeping her as the surprise main exhibition for the Artist’s Corner. Which is more elevated than the rest of the stuff here. Sure, it’s not up to the standard of things you may have seen in LA, or New York, or London, but it’s good enough, for here.” Stephen surveyed the photos again as if to reconfirm his observations.

“These are Annie’s?” Ty asked, bewildered, also noting that condescending tone that Stephen kept using when referring to Serenity. Ty had not kept up with Annie’s work, but he couldn’t have ever imagined that this was what she’d be making. 

“Yeah, aren’t they great?” Stephen asked rhetorically. 

Ty ignored him, blurting out, “But where are all the people?”

“People?” Stephen laughed, “Don’t you get it? It’s all about the dichotomies of the present and future. With the way the world is going, it’s juvenile to think that people can still survive. This is the real stuff. This is true perspective, dude.”

“Shouldn’t it be a bit more… I don’t know…. positive?” Ty wondered aloud.

“But it is! Don’t you get it? What’s more uplifting than facing and accepting the futility of existence and the destruction of the planet,” Stephen exclaimed, annoyed that Ty was not getting the obvious conclusion.

“Sure….,” Ty hesitated, still unsettled by the discussion and the images. Ty quickly made up an excuse that he had somewhere to be and bolted out of the dark room. A dark expression colored his face. Is that what Annie now thought about Serenity? As Ty worked through this, Annie’s words from the other night echoed in his mind. “Maybe it’s not Serenity that’s changed, maybe it’s us.” Perhaps, she wasn’t the Annie he remembered. This thought unsettled him more than the pictures.

Ty continued aimlessly wandering around the town. He stumbled along the pavement until the sun was low in the sky. He reached the park, finding Kyle at the center of a technology tornado. Cameras, banners, and a large table were set up on a pretty large stage. He recalled Kyle mentioning that his contribution to the festival fundraising effort would be a 24-hour livestream. It had taken some time to explain it to the pre-millennial Serenity folks - “ It’s like a telethon but on the Internet ” - but once they heard the potential dollar signs, they immediately agreed. 

Kyle had planned a lot of segments, including a Serenity-themed DnD campaign where an evil mage (i.e., the predatory bank that had pushed the previous mayor to take out those high-interest municipal bonds) threatened a pure-hearted group of ruffians (i.e., our dear Serenity townspeople). How Kyle intended to have enough energy to complete the entire 24 hours, Ty had no clue and was not particularly interested in sticking around to find out. But as he passed the elaborate set-up, Kyle’s eyes lit up. 

“Just the person we were looking for!” Kyle exclaimed excitedly, running over to him.

Kyle grabbed Ty’s arm and pulled him to the center table, pushed him into a chair, and draped a cape over his shoulders.  

“Ok. Here’s the thing. We’re expecting a big viewership drop around 3 am, so we need to draw people back in to continue donating. And who’s a bigger draw than my dear pop superstar brother?” Kyle asked cheekily. 

“I think I exist more in the indie rock alt space,” Ty corrected under his breath. 

Kyle added a feathered hat to Ty’s ensemble, “So this will be at a really important part of the campaign where you, the most renowned bard in Serenity, will give our heroes a clue in the form of song.” Kyle drew a piece of paper out from his pocket. “These are the lyrics.” Kyle waved over one of the production assistants, who handed Ty a guitar, “And your instrument, my liege.” 

“Dude, c’mon, what’s all this? I have the big concert that day. Why do you want to keep me up until 3 am?” Ty complained, pulling the hat off his head. 

Kyle picked the hat up from the table and placed it back on Ty. “Money, Ty, it’s all about the money. You don’t want me to tell Mom or Aunt Helen that you’re not willing to help out, do you?” he asked pointedly.

Ty puffed in annoyance and crossed his arms, “I think headlining the main celebration concert is more than enough help.” 

Kyle sighed, “Just wait until I finish telling you the entire concept and I’m sure you’ll be down. Ok, you’ll sing the song, and then the heroes will need to remember it throughout their journey right? So we’ll have your companion, the “ Illusion Wizard ” save it to their  “ memory crystal.” People will then be able to go online and bid on it in the form of a donation to the Save Serenity fund.” 

“And why would anyone want to pay you money for that ?” Ty asked, puzzled.

“ Because you are going to say the highest bidder’s name in the song,” Kyle said, pointing at a blank space on the lyric paper. 

Ty laughed, “This is ridiculous. I’m not doing this, no chance.” 

Kyle smiled knowingly, “You won’t?” He signaled to another one of the production assistants, and they nodded. Moments later, they appeared to be dragging a figure dressed in an ill-fitting deep navy Halloween costume-esque robe covered in stars. The figure also wore a matching conical wizard’s hat, obscuring their identity. 

“Ah, and our Illusion Wizard is here just in time for practice. Perfect!” Kyle pronounced. The production assistant pulled the Wizard into a chair beside Ty. Ty looked at them curiously and pushed their hat back atop their head. When he recognized who it was, Ty almost toppled off his chair. 

“ Annie?” Ty asked, in utter shock. Her dark eyes widened at the sound of his voice, similarly surprised to see him there. 

“No, it’s the Illusion Wizard, silly!” Kyle said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“How did he rope you into this?” Ty asked her in a whisper. 

“Being there for your friends is never a question,” Annie said simply, but with an echo of meaning something more. She looked at Ty with an expression he couldn’t decipher. Was she referring to him? And since when did Kyle and Annie still keep in touch? And why had Kyle never mentioned it to him?

Trying to dissipate the cloud that had settled over her brow, Ty said, “He lured me here and then used a combination of guilt-tripping and a smidge of blackmail.” 

Annie gave him a small but slightly forced smile, “It’s nice that you’re doing this for your brother.” 

Even that much from her made him feel like he could do backflips to the sky. 

“So you’ll do it, Ty?” Kyle asked. Ty tore his gaze away from Annie and looked at his brother as if just remembering that he was still there. He glanced back at Annie, who had pulled out a camera from beneath her robes and was training the lens on Kyle. Ty would have known that camera from a mile away. He had spent hours debating the purchase, trying to find the perfect one. 

“Ty?” Kyle asked again. 

Ty gulped, “Uh yeah, I’ll do it.” 

Ty was gliding on a wave of euphoria even until the following evening. Even his mom’s obligation to him to attend a barbecue at Dana Sue’s could make him dash into the depths of his usual emotional apathy. And it was all because of Annie. Dressed up in those absurd outfits, with Kyle forcing them to focus, but both of them were unable to stop the chain of giggles that would begin every time they met eyes. The before, all of its weight, despair, and regret, had ceased to exist in her orbit. 

Practically bouncing on his feet on the way to Dana Sue's, he was buzzing. It was the unknown possibilities that awaited him there. The endlessly charming and hilarious things he might say to her. How he might be rewarded with that melodic laugh, those sparkling, doe eyes. How he would ask, “ Friends?” How they would shake on it. How the volts of electricity would feel originating from every point where her hand met his. 

If Ty wasn’t as focused on that as he was, he might have found time to compliment the Sullivans' backyard setup. Past the deck, further down the lawn, smoke wafted from where Ronnie and Cal were manning the grills. In the center of the deck, long tables covered in red checked tablecloth supported a massive spread of Dana Sue specialties - practically overflowing bowls of mac n’ cheese, slaw, collard greens, and pillowy biscuits. Slow country ballads flitted through the large speakers around the assembled party of around 30 guests who mingled under the draped strings of garden lights.

But all Ty could notice was Annie speaking with Aunt Helen in one corner of the deck. As if under an enchantment, he was pulled in her direction. She wore a ruffled yellow sundress that reminded him of the yellow jessamine flowers that wound around the trees by the lake, giving off a honey-like fragrance. She had also pulled half her hair out of her face so that little strands fell and framed her face, drawing attention to the soft, elegant curve of her lip. When he approached, before he could say anything, Aunt Helen had noticed him and already started to excuse herself. 

“Oh, I think that’s your mother calling me over, Ty. Let me go see what she wants,” she said, waving as if catching Maddie’s eyes. She nodded to Annie and Ty and made a swift exit. 

Ty turned to see his mother with her back completely turned to them, lecturing Kyle about filming with his vlog camera. 

“Welcome, Tyler Songweaver, to my humble lodgings,” Annie said in an affected accent, jerking Ty’s attention back. 

Ty laughed, shaking his head. “Once that clip gets on the Internet, I think my career’s over.”

“No way. You seem to have a hardcore fan base. I’ve met Stephen’s cousin, and I think you would have to do much more embarrassing to lose their support. Even Stephen said - ” she started, before being interrupted by Dana Sue, who asked her daughter to bring out the sweet tea from the fridge. Ty tried his best not to feel queasy at the mention of Stephen. But not wanting to part from Annie so quickly, he offered to help, and she happily agreed. 

Ty was standing against the kitchen wall while Annie was pulling the pitchers from the fridge when Stephen waltzed through the door. 

“‘Sup, guys? Workin’ the floor today?” Stephen said, with that infuriatingly chill Californian nonchalance. 

“How are your pictures coming along?” Annie asked.

“Sick. Just need to wash and hang them,” Stephen replied, pleased with himself. 

Turning his full attention to Ty, Stephen said in a pitiful tone, “Too bad you didn’t like the pics yesterday, Ty.”

Ty’s face turned as white as a blank piece of paper. 

“What pictures, Ty?” Annie asked innocently. 

“Oh, yours, babe. He came by the tent, and I showed him your stuff. He thought they were crap, but what can you say? Either you have taste or you don’t. It’s not like the guy even has a Grammy, ” said Stephen, a cunning expression flickering across his face. 

Annie’s mood changed instantly, and she shot Ty a hurt glance. Noticing his work was complete, Stephen continued, “Well, I'd better get back out there. Wanted to catch up with your dad about my kombucha brewery idea.” Stephen left, but not fast enough that Ty could not see the nasty smirk that was growing on his face.

 “What the hell, Ty?” she asked in a biting tone.

“That’s not what I said, Annie! Believe me, he added things,” Ty added, trying to plead his case.

“So you said some of it?” Annie accused. She braced her two hands on the kitchen island. The ice cubes in the pitchers were melting, causing the exteriors to bead with droplets of moisture. 

“No no, but I mean it was … interesting, but I never said it was bad….. I just didn’t know you did stuff like that now, ”  Ty tried to justify. 

“Six years, Ty. Six years. You can’t just expect to step back here and everything to go back to the way it used to be,” she said, her voice sharp with anger. He felt like she wasn’t referring to her photography anymore.  

“I… didn’t mean… I,” Ty faltered. 

“I was honestly surprised that you even came down for this because no one ever sees you anymore. And,ok, if you ignore me and don’t want to be friends, fine . But think I’ve seen your family more than you have in all this time,” she said, her voice strained. 

This comment struck a chord with Ty. “Well, have you ever thought that maybe I wasn’t jumping at the chance to suffer all of those disappointed looks from my mom, your mom, Aunt Helen, and hell...pretty much half the town? Like it wasn’t enough that my entire world collapsed, but then I had to take on the weight of all of their crushed hopes and dreams,” he said, his breath hitching. He moved towards Annie so that there was only a few inches of space between them.

His brows furrowed together, and his lower lip trembled. “And maybe I don’t love coming back to Serenity because it’s so unimaginably painful for me when every single place in this town reminds me of you. Of the way things used to be. The way things could have been. And yeah, it’s so great to see that everyone has moved on and is living these amazing lives and I can’t because I’m still waiting for you. I kept waiting for you, Annie. I tried giving you space because I thought that’s what you wanted, but you’re the one who never came back ,” he said, the words coming out bitter and heavy. 

Her eyes darted frantically around his face, seemingly searching for something in his eyes, and she grew flushed. She was so close that he could smell the green apple scent of her shampoo. 

He took a deep breath. In a voice now fragile with desperation he continued, “I sent you all those tickets Annie, why did you never show? 

She appeared to be about to open her lips to answer when a small voice peeped from the doorway. Ty and Annie jumped apart from each other. 

“Hi,” Lily said, “Annie, they’re looking for you outside." Her eyes darted between Ty and Annie, trying to read the situation.

“I’ll be right out,” Annie replied in an unnaturally high pitch, with a forced smile. Lily nodded and headed back. 

She moved to follow Lily but paused in the doorway.  “I did come to your shows,” she let out shakily, in a voice that was barely above a whisper, “Anytime you were in California.”

“...Why?” Ty managed, completely shocked by the admission

“I dunno. Guess I wanted to see a face that reminded me of home,” she said, her eyes glistening. 

He watched her walk down the hallway, her shoulders shaking slightly. 

“Annie….wait!” he pleaded. Either she didn’t hear him, or she pretended not to because she didn’t turn around. 

He banged his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. What had he done?  For what could have been seconds, minutes, or years, he stared at the puddles of condensation around the long-forgotten pitchers of sweet tea. The tea inside had probably gone watery and flavorless, rendering it undrinkable. He knew he should probably leave, but he would have to tell his mom first. When he got back on the deck, Stephen appeared to finishing a speech, all eyes at the barbecue trained on him. 

“Annie, would you come over here?” he asked, holding his hand out to Annie. The crowd parted for her, and she took his hand.

Stephen took out a small box from his pocket and began to kneel. 

If a bolt of lightning had struck the deck at that moment, it would have been less startling to him. Annie’s eyes, red-rimmed and shocked, met Ty’s in the back of the room. But as soon as she turned back to Stephen, it felt like the invisible thread that connected her and Ty had been violently ripped apart. Ty turned and struggled to the door, feeling like the hallway was spinning. His legs felt leaden, and every step seemed to take an exorbitant amount of effort. Maybe this was a nightmare? A horrendous, awful nightmare. He began to rapidly pinch his arms, hoping to wake up, but it had no effect. Nausea threatened to overtake him. Once he made it out of the door and saw the large pink magnolia in the Sullivan front yard, he was knocked out of his delusion. Clapping and cheers emanated from the backyard. He was still in Serenity. Annie was getting engaged. And not to him. 

Chapter Text

Annie never chose the same seats in any of the bars, theaters, or arenas he had graduated to playing. Sometimes she liked to be far back in the nosebleeds, surveying the swathes of sparkling concertgoers swaying in unison to the guitar melodies. Other times, she craved the frenzied, almost maniacal, energy of the crowd on the floor. How they would all gravitate toward the stage like tiny asteroids caught in the orbit of an undeniable being. Towards Ty - the center of their collective concert universe. 

At one of the first gigs she attended in a grimy bar in West Hollywood during her first year of college, she had hung back in the shadows by the door, afraid he might notice her. She wasn’t sure why she had come, perhaps driven by a combination of an unresolved, masochistic urge to punish herself and an unrelenting homesickness for Serenity. Attending solved both. Just seeing his face, his passion for his music, although he was still getting the hang of performing, made her remember what she had sacrificed to come to California. It motivated her better than any lecture she had attended. So, she kept attending his shows, promising that once she had established herself, she might one day come up to him on her own terms and say with gusto, “Hi there, Annie Sullivan - huge fan of your work.” His eyes would beam with silent laughter, and they could reignite the embers of their friendship into a new kind of fire - different, newer, better. And as the subject of his songs seemed to remain constant, she guarded this hope fiercely. 

But as the years went on, the success she had craved eluded her, and her hope began to feel childish. Her professors incessantly bashed her photos, and she had been on the verge of flunking more times than she had admitted to anyone. And more painful than that, his music began to change. She couldn’t read into the lyrics anymore; they sounded like generic radio pop. And then the venues he started performing at got larger. Obtaining tickets became a battle - a very expensive one. The motivating element of attending soon faded, and she would be left in a deeper cloud of depression. Around three years back, when she had started going out with Stephen, she felt it was time to stop. She didn’t know how she could explain this strange habit to him anyway. So, she decided to attend one final show at the Forum. 

It was Ty’s first arena concert, and the atmosphere amongst the concertgoers was electric. Ty fed off the crowd’s heightened energy. He left no inch of the stage uncovered, paying due attention to each part of the arena with the practiced ease of a professional performer. Annie watched him as closely as she could from the jumbotron in the nosebleeds. His skin glistened with sweat as he neared the end of his set, but he still strummed that guitar as if it were the last time he ever would. And then it did. Ty paused, chest heaving, and announced this would be his last song. One that he hadn’t played for a while. He asked that the house lights be turned on to see the audience. The crowd roared in anticipation. 

When his fingers returned to his guitar, Annie felt a wave of nostalgia almost push her off her seat. He had been embarrassed to play that song for her that day on Aunt Maddie’s porch. The chords he had stumbled over playing in that crappy bar. Chasing Light . On the surface, it was about someone trying to capture the perfect picture, hoping to translate intangible emotions into an image. But it was also the story of the fragile, naive hope of someone learning to trust their instincts to pursue potentially unrequited love. Cece and Lily had the time of their lives teasing her when it gained traction on local radio in the fall of her senior year. Annie would feign annoyance, but her heart would soar whenever she heard it. But now, as she surveyed the crowd singing the words that had once been meant for her, and knowing none of them knew or would ever know who she was, it felt different. The Annie that the song was about and the person in the arena couldn’t have been the same girl. Annie was full of ambition. She was going to make something of herself and prove that leaving Serenity and her family was going to be worth it. That heartbreak was worth it. This Annie wasn’t delusional anymore. 

As she took in a final glance at the stage, Annie could have sworn that Ty met her gaze. But it was a ridiculous thought. She was miles away from the stage. Colored confetti began raining down from the ceiling, blanketing the crowd and obscuring her view of Ty completely. 

Annie couldn’t be sure if she was entirely conscious while the swarm of well-wishes and embraces enveloped her as soon as she had slipped the simple ring on her finger. If she were honest with herself, her brain had been short-circuiting from the moment Stephen had kneeled on the deck of her childhood home. She had said yes, of course. She had been dating Stephen for three years. Her parents liked Stephen. Everyone in Serenity liked Stephen. She didn’t need her brain to work to answer. It was the natural conclusion of it all. 

When she had photographed for a couple of proposals in California, the newly engaged couples always exuded this infectious, effusive euphoria, unable to stop giggling and bouncing with the giddiness of love. Annie liked to get swept up in their happiness and translate that into their photos, wondering if she might feel that way if she ever got engaged. But the reality of it wasn’t what she had expected. She couldn’t feel anything really. Maybe it was the shock. The timing of it. The unsettling conversation that had preceded it. The place. Everyone watching. Everyone watching . She tried to make out a specific face in the crowd, but he had vanished. By the time she had shown every curious eye the ring and promised wedding invitations to what seemed to be the entire state, the moon was high in the sky. She only had the energy to climb the stairs and plop down on her bed before sleep claimed her. 

When she awoke, she perceived a heavy arm over her waist as sunlight streamed through the slats of the blinds. She tried to push off the weight, but it was unusually heavy. Annie annoyingly pleaded and shoved the arm, “Stephen, please.” His figure remained motionless and unresponsive. With a final thrust, she managed to move it and sit up in bed. An unfamiliar grunt sounded in the stillness of the morning air. She peered over at him. Through her groggy vision, his hair looked different from what she remembered. Darker. Shorter. And where was his mustache? She moved closer to his face. Her eyes widened. That wasn’t Stephen. 

“Annie, where are you going?” asked Ty, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep. Annie startled, yelped, and jumped back off the bed. Her head slammed back into the closet door, and everything went dark.

She started up in bed, her heart pounding painfully against her chest. She winced, nursing the phantom pain at the back of her head. Her vision struggled to adjust to the darkness. Annie ran her hand over the space beside her. Empty. She leaned against the bed frame. It was going to be a long day. She retrieved her laptop from the desk and opened the photos for the Serenity exhibition. 

She was supposed to add them to her portfolio for the interview tomorrow, but she hesitated, remembering the heated exchange with Ty . She considered the pictures. Even her college professors would have agreed that the photos were technically sound, well-composed, and had a good command of natural lighting. But the way he had said it, “ Not bad….interesting.” There was a slight pause. The overcompensating enthusiasm that followed. Annie knew that Ty was lying, or at least withholding what he really thought. What was he seeing that she didn’t? Sure, her quaint photos of historical Serenity buildings did seem to be subtly eclipsed by their vivid, jarring computer-rendered graphic companions, but that was the entire point of the work. She was counting on the shock value to impress the interview panel. And Stephen had been unwaveringly supportive of the pieces. So why was she overthinking it now? Annie tried to shake off the self-doubt and quickly copied the pictures into her portfolio document. 

Although she had wanted to practice some mock interview questions for the rest of the day, she had given in to her dad’s pleas that she and Stephen attend the centennial baseball game at Serenity High. Annie arrived late to the baseball diamond, dragging Stephen behind her toward the stands. It had taken a significant persuasive effort to get her sleepless fiancé to the game. Stephen had tried his usual sports spiel, describing them as “the absolute lowest rung of amusement.” But after she had described the premise of the match - the high school baseball team was set to compete against a legacy team of Serenity-ians, which was meant to include her dad, Cal, Erik, and Harlan - Stephen had burst out in an uncharacteristic fit of laughter and agreed to join. The stands were packed with people, despite the scorching summer sun above them. Annie managed to find them a place to sit beside Lily and Cece, burning her legs slightly on the metal risers as she squeezed in beside her friends. They greeted the couple with loud exclamations and congratulations. Annie blushed at the attention and tried to calm them down.  

Noticing the crowd, Stephen commented to no one in particular, “Does no one in this town have anything better to do?”

Annie shot him a glare, hoping no one had heard him. “Stephen, don’t,” she muttered under her breath. He shrugged, clearly unbothered, and took out his camera to photograph the field. 

“I think it may have something to do with him,” Lily said, gesturing with her head to the outfield. Annie followed the trail to see an instantly recognizable figure playing catch in a Legacy Team uniform in the outfield - Ty. She turned back and noticed that the spectators were largely composed of young girls who let out small shrieks whenever Ty turned to face their general direction. Annie’s stomach churned. Her dad hadn’t mentioned that Ty would be on the team. Annie still wasn’t sure if she wanted to continue arguing with him or steer clear of him entirely. With Stephen sitting beside her, she was leaning towards strong avoidance.  

“Pity for the girlfriend that has to put up with all that,” Stephen said offhandedly, as he snapped pictures of the fans. Annie’s breath caught in her throat. Annie had never given much thought to Ty having a girlfriend. Sure, she had seen the occasional post online linking him to some famous model or upcoming actress, but who could ever know if that stuff was true? Kyle had never mentioned Ty having someone serious, and Kyle could always be counted on to relay strange, and largely unnecessary, detailed updates about his entire family. To Annie, Ty’s love life had remained an abstract concept because she was never forced to confront it, especially not in Serenity. She reined her thoughts back in suddenly. Why did she care? He probably had someone in his life. That was good. She could be happy for him.  

“That could’ve been you,” Lily said in a joking wistfulness to Cece, although she looked at Annie when she said it. Cece laughed dryly. 

Stephen’s eyebrow raised. “Annie filled me in on high school around here. Sounds like she kinda floated under the radar. Funny, she never met Ty—were you two not friends back then?” he asked, gesturing to Cece. 

“Oh, it was a totally different time. We were actually huge enemies,” Cece explained quickly, shooting Annie a confused look. Annie tried to explain back with her eyes. 

“And Cece ended up dumping him !” Lily added. Stephen looked mildly impressed. 

Cece nodded proudly, “Yeah. I could tell that he was into someone else. It was like a childhood friend, a destiny situation. Didn’t want to get between that.” Annie could tell that Stephen was on the verge of questioning Cece further when her dad stopped before them, panting from having jogged quickly away from his team huddle. He looked concerned. 

“Harlan’s ankle is shot. He overdid it in our basketball game yesterday, so we’re down one on the Legacy side,” Annie’s dad explained exasperatedly. 

Ronnie looked towards Stephen in expectation, “What do you say, son? We need another man on the team. Could you give us a hand in right field?” 

“No no no….. I couldn’t. I don’t know the first thing about baseball,” Stephen said quickly, lifting both his hands and waving his head in refusal, “You guys would be way better off without me, dude.” 

Annie internally cringed at the informal way that Stephen addressed her dad. While her mom had given no signs that she disapproved of Stephen, Annie had found it difficult to read her dad. After the proposal, he pulled her aside and asked if she was happy. Annie had agreed, but Ronnie hadn’t seemed entirely convinced. From his line of questioning, Annie guessed that Stephen had gone the unconventional route and hadn’t asked for her dad’s permission. She agreed that the entire asking business was entirely antiquated, but it was tradition, and people in Serenity, even her usually progressive dad, tended to take tradition very seriously. Respect also factored into that equation, and she hoped she could put Stephen and her dad on better terms before returning to California. And what better way than through Ronnie’s favorite sport?

“What a great idea, Dad!” she said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. Stephen’s eyes watched, wide with disbelief and a tinge of betrayal. Annie was surprised at the words that tumbled out of her mouth next, “Right field is the best position for a newbie. And most of the high school team is right-handed.”  Maybe she had retained a thing or two from Ty’s careful explanations to her about baseball. 

“You’ll be great,” Annie continued with two thumbs up, hoping to convince him. Stephen considered her for a moment and then begrudgingly stood up. 

“Do I have to wear one of those, too?” he said, pointing in slight disgust at the normal baseball uniform that Ronnie was wearing.

Annie could tell that her dad was pretending not to hear Stephen’s condescension when he replied, “Of course!”

Ty was undoubtedly the best player on the field, and Annie hoped no one noticed how badly Stephen was struggling in the outfield. He wasn’t putting in much effort, but it was hard to overcome his inherently bad hand-eye coordination. As the game neared its end and the score stayed tied, it became clear the other team had noticed Stephen. The batter had saved a special maneuver for him, sending one straight in Stephen’s direction. Annie could immediately tell that Stephen wasn’t going to catch it. Her fiancé wasn’t even looking at the ball but was instead trying to shield his eyes from the sun. 

But Annie’s eyes were drawn to the center field, where Ty seemed to come to the same conclusion. Suddenly, he sprinted over to Stephen and dove, catching the ball inches before it hit the grass. The entire crowd, Ty fans and non–Ty fans alike, erupted at Ty’s save. Everyone in the stands had gotten to their feet now, tension building despite the seemingly low stakes of the game, as they waited for the next batter, Ronnie, to come out of the dugout and potentially decide the result. Annie selfishly prayed for a good bat. If the Legacy team won, maybe her dad would associate the euphoric mood with Stephen. Through half-shut eyes, Annie spied a ball sail in a perfect arc over the fence. The Legacies had won.  

The players and the crowd rushed the field. Even the high school players were thrilled by the comeback, joining the group that hoisted Ty onto their shoulders. Annie was almost swept up in the swell of excitement when she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Martha, an eccentric lady who ran the local antique shop and helped organize the summer church camp. 

“Your fiancé is one talented young man,” the elder woman said with a wink, gesturing towards the celebratory group. 

Annie squinted at Martha as she moved to join the sea people, “Oh…thank you…,” she said. Annie wondered if Martha was being earnest or if it was Serenity's brand of sugar-coated sarcasm. It puzzled Annie even further when she couldn’t see Stephen in the crowd, but in the outfield, sulking and kicking the grass with his cleats. Walking to Stephen, she watched her dad giving Ty a rough celebratory pat on the back that nearly knocked him forward. Did Martha mean…? Annie felt sorry for the older woman. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be to lose your memory.

When she reached Stephen, he wouldn’t even look at her. This attitude of his wasn’t unusual to Annie. It was a regular occurrence back in California, especially to minor inconveniences or bruises to his artistic ego. She knew he was upset that she had forced him to join the game. Annie reached for his hand, but Stephen swatted her away. He mumbled in a low tone that he would wait for her in the car. She fished for her keys in her purse and handed them over. He snatched them and trudged off to the parking lot. The car ride back didn’t do too much to improve Stephen’s mood, as her dad took the chance to sing Ty’s unending praise.

“That boy could still make it to the pros if he wanted,” Ronnie said in awe from the driver’s seat. 

“Good. Maybe that would save us from his crap music,” grumbled Stephen, reaching from the backseat to shut off the radio, which had been tuned to the local Top 40 station. Annie watched the corner of her dad’s mouth pull tight, but he didn’t respond. They drove the rest of the way home in uncomfortable silence. 

Annie chastised herself for thinking such a delusional plan could have worked. How could she have forgotten that, in Serenity, things always seemed to turn out exactly as expected? 

Annie had never said yes faster than when Lily passed by to see if she wanted to go for a swim at the lake. She desperately wanted to escape Stephen’s gloomy mood. She found herself aimlessly floating on the warm surface of the lake, watching the brilliant, molten orange clouds fade into wispy flecks of lavender. The water muffled the sounds of the outdoors. She could faintly hear the buzz of cicadas blended with her friends’ raucous laughter. Annie wished she had her camera. As far back as she could remember, she had been mesmerized by the way the thick South Carolina air made the world's colors soften and bleed into one another, like the melted remains of her favorite blackberry and peach ice cream. On especially hot summer evenings, Aunt Maddie would sometimes send Ty and Kyle to her house to bring her along to the ice cream parlor. She remembered how she’d stand on her tiptoes, trying to peer into the shiny metal freezer case, not yet tall enough to see into the shiny metal freezer case.  But even after her growth spurt, she never needed to see the flavors. Her order never changed. And every time, without fail, before she could even say a word, Ty would hand her a crisp waffle cone topped with a perfect scoop of that orange-purple goodness.

She’d savor each lick of her ice cream, but she’d find it hard to concentrate when her leg would brush against Ty’s on the tiny bench outside the shop. He and Kyle would playfully argue about everything—from baseball to who was better at the latest video game to who could win in a race. They always turned to Annie to settle the score, but since she had no clue what they were talking about, she would always side with Ty, much to Kyle’s continual dismay. Even then, Ty never ate ice cream, which only made him seem more grown-up and even cooler in her eyes. After she got her first camera for her 10th birthday, Ty would ask to see her pictures while she ate. He’d flip through the camera roll, sincerely complimenting every photo, even the blurry ones she’d taken by accident. She’d try to eat her ice cream faster, hoping to cool down the heat rising to her cheeks. She would stumble and stutter explaining apertures and focal points to him, but he’d listen with rapt attention to every word. But then Ty started high school. He joined the varsity baseball team, started hanging out with new friends, and their trio stopped going on ice cream trips. Kyle still invited her to go from time to time, but something about the ice cream didn’t taste quite the same.

She only noticed how long she had been in the water when the sun began to disappear beneath the treetops, threatening to pull all the light with it. The number of people mingling around the lake had gotten substantially larger, but Annie felt an inescapable sense of loneliness. She swam back to the shore and redressed quickly, sliding her shorts and t-shirt over her wet swimsuit. Despite Lily’s protestations that she should stay longer, Annie hugged her goodbye and rushed away. Her sandals sank slightly into the soft earth with every step, forcing her to move slowly. By the time she reached the outer edge of the thicket of trees around the lake, she thought she was home free. 

“Annie!” a voice called breathlessly, breaking the hushed stillness of the woods. 

She paused mid-step. She reluctantly turned to see Ty running after her, illuminated by the bluish, lingering daylight. He stopped to face her. His eyes looked tired, but with an exhaustion caused by more than just a lack of sleep.

She tilted her head slightly, hoping to communicate the thought, “ Well, what do you want ?"

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well…I..uh…wanted to say congratulations,” he said, directing his gaze to her left hand. 

She hadn’t even remembered that she was wearing the ring, but the weight of his attention made her hand feel heavy. Unconsciously, she drew her arm behind her.

“Thank you,” she said mechanically. Did he chase her down for that? She could feel the water from her swimsuit seeping through her clothes, making the fabric clingy and uncomfortable. She needed to get home.

Her body shifted to leave as he blurted out, “And I’m sorry.” She stilled.

In a steady voice, Ty continued, “I’m sorry about yesterday. I had no right to say those things. Not about your pictures... or your life. I was an idiot. But being here... it messes with my head, you know? Like I’ve jumped back in time. And when I see you standing in front of me, I can almost believe it’s still that Christmas. Back when I still had a chance to make the right choices. To say the right thing. To not screw it up so badly that we became even less than strangers. To have fought harder to keep you in my life. To have ignored all the crap advice I was given. To not wait for a miracle or the universe to make our paths cross again.” 

He paused and took a slow breath, as if steadying himself before continuing, “And I think I’ve moved between that delusional fantasy land and another wasteland of festering regret and resentment for not having done one of those things. And it’s not fair of me to take that out on you. I know that. I just-”

He laughed bitterly,  “Hell, maybe it’s not even my fault. Maybe that’s just how our lives were supposed to go. And I would have happily put up with whatever anyone in this town had to say about us if we were at least still friends. Because if this place - this collection of magnolia trees and worn-down buildings - was ever a home to me, it’s because you, my best friend , used to share it with me. And to hear you say that you thought I didn’t want to be friends with you….I couldn’t believe you would ever think that, Annie.”

She wondered if the distance from the nosebleeds to the stage felt smaller when you were on it. 

She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, gently shaking her head, “Ty..I-I-”

“Annie, please,” he pleaded, “Are you willing to let it all go? Is that what it's come to? Watching the rest of each other's lives in pictures? I can’t give up like that. And I know we’re not the same people as we were then, for better or worse, who knows? I can’t pretend to know what you’re afraid of, but if there’s even the smallest glimmer of hope that I could still call you my friend, my best friend, whoever she may be now,… then I have to chase it. No matter how far away you go and how long you’re gone.”

Annie pushed the tangled, dripping strands of hair out of her face and behind her ears. She stared at Ty. His eyes looked wild and determined now, like the vast, shifting blue of the ocean, but there was warmth in them too — a steady rhythm. It felt safe. And it made the thoughts swirling in her mind - their argument,  the interview, the centennial, the engagement - disappear into their depths. All that remained was the persistent thought that if she took just two steps forward, she could have wrapped her arms around him. 

“You were always good at making things sound simpler than they were,” Annie said, her voice almost wistful.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a laugh, low and real, “And it will be this time. Promise.”  

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” she said, a small sigh escaping her. 

“So is that a yes or a no?” he asked.

She hesitated, “It’s a ...maybe.”

“I’ll take it,” he grinned. 

 “And I can give you a ride back, if you want?”

“Don’t you have a party to get back to? she asked. 

“Well, not really,” he said, scratching his head, “I only came by because Lily called to tell me that you’d be here.”

“Oh,” she said. She guessed that Lily had inherited the meddling gene pervasive in Serenity residents. Annie considered the darkening sky and the five-mile walk home and found herself in the passenger seat of Ty’s truck. 

The light, flowing acoustic guitars of Ty’s classic rock CD filled the speakers, and Annie leaned her head against the open window, letting the warm night air tangle her hair around her face. She felt as if she’d slipped into a distant dream, lulled by the sound of Ty’s voice following the melody of the music in a soft hum.

She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew, Ty was gently shaking her awake. Annie awkwardly thanked him for the ride and hopped out. Her heart felt strangely heavier as she passed the magnolia tree in the front yard. She then noticed a figure sitting on the porch steps. Stephen was glaring at her. 

“You’re not still mad about the baseball thing, are you?” she said with a half-smile. “I’m sorry, okay?”

He remained silent and handed her a paper. A picture. Annie’s stomach twisted, her mood instantly turning sour. She didn’t need to consider it for a long time, it was permanently etched in her mind. It was from that long-ago Christmas. In it,  a teenage Annie was turned towards Ty, planting a playful kiss on his cheek. His arms were tightly wrapped around her waist. Annie thought her mom had stored the pictures away a long time ago, so where had Stephen found this one? 

In a clipped, cold tone, Stephen asked, “Care to explain?”

Chapter Text

Ty had never had a near-death experience, but he imagined that it must feel something like this. His chest constricted as though he had been plunged into the depths of the Atlantic, the pressure of billions of gallons of seawater threatening to collapse his lungs and crush his organs. He clutched at his shirt. He felt lightheaded, and his vision blurred. Suddenly, he felt a gentle weight touch his face. Momentarily distracted from the pain, he looked down at the sidewalk. A large, white, boat-shaped petal had fallen on him from the large magnolia tree that bloomed in the Sullivans’ front yard. He bent down to feel the soft, leathery flower, noticing the sweet blossom fragrance that filled the air. 

The tree had been his mother’s and Aunt Helen’s gift to Dana Sue when Annie was born. He must have been around three, but he still remembered his mom’s careful instructions as he helped them pat the dirt against the fragile sapling, “We’ve got to look after this tree for Dana Sue. It’s still young, so it needs some help. Water for its roots, shelter from the wind, and patience as it grows. Then one day it will be tough and strong, with deep roots, and it can live for hundreds of years.”

“Hundreds of years?” young Ty had said in awe, his brain not comprehending that the tiny sapling could live for such a span of time. 

“Yes, of course. That’s the magic of Serenity,” Maddie said with a wink, “We’re made of some tough stuff in this town, but we don’t get there all on our own.”

Ty nodded solemnly, “Like how I have you? And Dad? And Aunt Helen? And Aunt Dana Sue? And Uncle Ronnie?”

His mother beamed at him, “Now, when did you get so smart, my angel boy?” 

Embarrassed by the compliment, Ty’s head dropped, and he smiled bashfully at the earth. 

She moved another small pile of earth towards him and continued, “And now we have sweet little Annie in our lives, and she might need you, just like this tree. Can you promise me that you’ll look out for her?”

Ty couldn’t exactly comprehend how he could be helpful to the squirming bundle tucked in Dana Sue’s arms, but he agreed wholeheartedly, winding his pinky around his mother’s in promise. And he took his new job seriously. He would drag his mom to the Sullivans’ to check on the tree, inspecting the color of the leaves, and maintaining a neat circle of mulch around the base, like Aunt Helen had instructed. Once he was satisfied, he would pull the toy he had carefully packed in his mother’s bag and run inside the house to present it to Annie, hoping to produce a shimmer of amusement in her dark eyes.

But he was soon forced away from his duties when his dad decided to enroll him in T-ball, and his mother grew too busy with Kyle, and later Katie, to take him to the Sullivan’s. Ty had posed a question to his father about whether they might be able to stop to check on the tree and see Annie after practice one day. Bill had rebuked him sharply, ranting about all the nonsense that Maddie put the kids up to. His father warned him to learn to focus on important things, like perfecting his pitches. Ty knew better than to ask again. 

He was forced to resort to sidelong glances at Annie at school or in the risers at his baseball games. That was until around middle school, when he realized that his mother’s lax attitude toward attending church was depriving him of another opportunity to see Annie. Maddie was a bit surprised to see her eldest seemingly become devoutly religious, instead of the teenage angst she expected. Ty was the first to dress on Sunday mornings, desperately urging the family to hurry to reach the service on time. But his family had no idea that it wasn’t the sermon that appealed to Ty’s soul, but rather the awkward conversation he would attempt to strike up with Annie on the lawn afterwards. It was like that with every other Serenity-wide gathering. His unconscious goal was to find her. And he may have been imagining things, but when he couldn’t seek her out, Annie always seemed to find him, too. 

Like that time after the accident in junior year. Not able to drive, he was hobbling on his crutches to meet up with some of his teammates. He regretted it immensely. He could feel his underarms chafing from the tops of the crutches, and he was getting tired of focusing on the ground to avoid the cracks in the sidewalk. He thought he heard someone call his name. Praying that it was someone who had taken pity on him and would offer him a ride, he looked towards the road. His heart sank when he saw that it was empty of any cars. The voice called his name again. He whipped his head in the direction of the houses. He recognized the familiar silhouette of the blossoming magnolia tree, and beneath it, an even more familiar face - with a camera in hand. 

“Annie,” he whispered breathlessly, infinitely happier than he would have been if a helicopter had magically descended to take him to his destination. 

She eagerly invited him into the yard, but he hesitated. They hadn’t spoken much after the night of the accident. Honestly, after starting high school, he had seen her rarely. And then the soul-crushing pressure of a professional baseball career and his parents’ separation had been taking up most of his mental capacity. Kyle, on the other hand, had become Annie’s new best friend. Ty had stumbled upon their sci-fi movie marathons and found them running Kyle’s theater audition lines. While he should have been happy to see them getting along so well, these run-ins annoyed Ty for some unknowable reason. 

But that day, the sun was shining, Annie had smiled at him, and his armpits really hurt from those stupid crutches. He plopped himself down unceremoniously beside her, taking refuge in the cool shade of the canopy. Thankfully, she didn’t ask him about his recovery, his future, or everything that everyone couldn't stop pestering him about. Instead, she showed off her new camera to him and started explaining the kind of pictures she hoped to take with it. It was the most at ease he had felt in months. 

Ty sat mesmerized as Annie showed him how important sensor size was for low-light pictures or how the improved shutter speed would help her get great shots at the upcoming baseball games. Baseball. Ty didn’t think that he had ever felt even a fraction of the passion that Annie had for photography for his sport. A sport that he was dedicating the rest of his life to. They settled into a comfortable silence as Annie took some test pictures of the yard, but the thought continued to trouble him. 

After debating how to broach the subject, he asked her, “How did you know that you wanted to be a photographer?” 

Annie lowered her camera, her face scrunching up in the usual way that it did when she was thinking deeply about something, “Well….I’m not sure…It’s something like…You know that feeling when everything is perfect? Like right before blowing out the candles on your birthday cake? Or sitting with your family opening presents on Christmas? Or finally getting to the top of the Celebration Fair at the State Fair?”

Ty nodded, not really following what she was getting at. 

She continued, “When things like that used to happen to me, I would get super nervous. Because I knew that those feelings wouldn’t last. People leave, candles go out, the Christmas tree is tossed out on the curb, and eventually, the fair workers kick you off the ride, no matter how many times you beg them to let you go for another round. But then, even if only in a picture, you can immortalize those feelings. And you don’t have to worry about losing that moment. And you can do the same thing for other people. For their joy. Their sadness. Their stories. And maybe life starts to feel a little less scary and a little less lonely that way.”

Annie’s eyes had turned glossy, and she sniffled before quickly picking the camera back up to cover her face. Ty mentally kicked himself. He hadn’t meant to remind her of Ronnie’s 5-year disappearance from her life. Ty was also very recently acquainted with the joys of a father who had Godzilla’d his way through his family’s life. He wanted to reach out to comfort her, acutely aware of the inches that separated their shoulders, but he hesitated. It felt so natural to sit beside her underneath the magnolia, but when he thought about it, they hadn’t spoken this openly in years. Wouldn’t she find it weird? 

Noticing that Ty hadn’t said another word, Annie laughed nervously and added,  “That’s kind of lame though, right?” 

Shaken out of his thoughts, Ty said with great enthusiasm, “No! No! Not at all. It’s awesome. ” 

Annie seemed to be caught off guard by Ty’s response because she turned to stare at him with a confused expression.

“You really think so?” she asked.

“One million. No, you know what? One billion percent. And you better say that same thing in your acceptance speech when you win whatever the World Series equivalent for photography is.”

“A Pulitzer... It’s called the Pulitzer Prize,” she laughed, shaking her head, “and I don’t think I want to win one. I’d be happy to take pictures that I’m proud of and get to share them with people. If even one person can look at my photos and understand them, connect with them, that would be more than enough for me.”

Ty would never forget how the golden light of the late afternoon sun illuminated the high points of her face, creating a warm, amber reflection in her brown eyes. Ever since the accident, his mind had been constantly clouded with a tempestuous anger at what had happened. But like the rays of early morning sun, Annie’s simple conversation seemed to pierce through that darkness, reminding him that a world outside of himself, outside of Serenity, existed. Ty vaguely noticed the low rumble of a car making its way down the empty street. The thought that he was late to meet his friends drifted away with the breeze that rustled the leaves.

“What would you think if I quit baseball?”

“You. Quit. Baseball,” Annie repeated, pausing between each word as if weighing them carefully in the air. Ty hadn’t realized that he’d spoken the thought aloud. And for the first time, the idea of quitting didn’t scare him. 

He cleared his throat, “Yeah, I mean, after the accident, the thought creeps up on me sometimes.”

“Well, do you love baseball?” she posed. 

“I don’t not not love it. And I’m not bad at it,” Ty shrugged.

Her eyes narrowed, and she continued to press him, “And so what if you were to  quit?”

“I just feel like I’ve been doing it all my life. To quit now…it would be insane. Totally mental,” he paused, “And then what would I even do if not baseball?”

“Hmm…,” Annie looked off into the middle distance, “Maybe you could start a cult? Or go backpacking in the Alps? Or become an ultra-famous singer-songwriter sensation?”

Ty burst out laughing, “What? Where did all that come from?”

“Ty, you have levels of charisma that would put all real cult leaders to shame. The world is only safe because you haven’t decided to use that power for evil,” she eyed him suspiciously, “yet.” 

Ty put his hands up in mock surrender, but one point still confused him so he asked, “A singer, though? You can’t be serious about that one.”

Annie smiled knowingly, “I’ve heard you in the background of the church choir, and that time when you played backup guitar for Olivia at the talent show. You don’t have to be modest. It doesn’t suit you.”

Ty had dabbled in songwriting, but he had never ventured to play his work outside his bedroom. It was a fun side hobby for him. Something to play around with. Definitely not a career. And what would his father say if he told him he was planning on throwing away everything they had worked for? What would Coach say? His mom? It would be a complete disaster.

As if reading his mind, Annie said, “And don’t stress about what your family might think. They’ll support you no matter what you decide.” She said it with such certainty that it had sparked Ty to bet the rest of his life on those words. Ty had never seriously considered pursuing a music career before he spoke with Annie that day. He had been convinced that baseball would be his ticket out of Serenity. He continued to stare at the tree, taunted by the cheers and laughter that emanated from the house he had fled. He couldn’t seem to reconcile the difference between the boundless hope of that afternoon with this despair. The contrast felt like acid on his heart, corroding him from the inside out. 

“Ty! Focus!” 

The agitated yell wrenched Ty away from his body. It took a moment to regain consciousness, but suddenly, he realized that he was no longer outside the Sullivan house. He was standing on the expansive, makeshift stage that had been constructed in the park to host the centennial concert. And Olivia, his still-fiery bandmate, was glaring at him. He realized he had stepped too close to the huge speakers, and his mic was feeding back through the sound system, with an ear-numbing screech. He quickly switched the mic off. 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. 

Olivia put down her guitar and jogged over to Ty, yelling back over to the sound crew and the rest of the band, “Let’s take five.”

“Ty, what the hell? We haven’t even made it through one song,” she said, annoyed, but with an underlying layer of concern, “We’re not going to be ready in time for Friday.”

That was a massive understatement. Their concert rehearsal was not going well, and all fingers could be pointed at Ty. He could tell that everyone in the meager rehearsal crew was either disappointed or vindicated that Ty had been struggling to hit one note or chord all morning. Olivia didn’t need to repeat how important the concert was to the centennial. But she did, perhaps hoping that Ty would begin to remember at least the lyrics of his songs, instead of mumbling out strings of half-words over the drumline. 

It had been difficult to convince his management to be here and take the stage with the Serenities. They would have preferred that he build hype for his upcoming album release with a slot at the Sahara tent at Coachella, instead of a reunion concert in what they referred to as his “backwater South Carolina hometown.” So Ty had to speak to them in a language they could understand. He finally got them to cave with a lengthy explanation about how the concert would enhance his brand image. The label had taken to promoting him as a small-town, guy-next-door type. Having his life reduced to a sellable byline was pretty dehumanizing, but as long as it got him back to Serenity with his old bandmates, he didn’t care. 

Those initial days with the band: the long drives, crappy motels, and the half-filled bar crowds, weren’t easy, but it was the last time his life had made sense. And he appreciated Olivia’s honesty. The way people treated him now —either the overeager friendliness or the icy stares —unsettled him. He reassured Olivia that he would try harder, and although she regarded him dubiously, she assented. The band got into position for the next song. It was one that Ty was certain he could never forget. The chorus came easily to his lips.

You slipped away

Frames filled with shadows of serenity

Contrast without clarity

Undeveloped destiny

I move before I think

I keep 

Chasin’

Chasin’

Chasin’ light

After practice, he wandered back through Main Street in a half-daze, Chasing Light reverberating in his brain. If he and Annie had stayed together, the song would have never existed. He would have never hastily scribbled the lines on a damp bar napkin after a set one night before he could forget them. He would have never uploaded the song that would become the Serenties’ viral hit that landed them their record deal. He looked up at the brick buildings that lined the street. They seemed to slope in over him, blocking any moonlight and darkening his path. The terrible pain in his chest returned, the fear and bitterness of that internal rust, and he futilely tried to suppress it with his hands. He started to walk faster and faster, and suddenly he was running through the streets of Serenity. He ran until his feet led him back to his mom’s doorstep. He entered through the unlocked doorway to the kitchen. A singular lamp above the breakfast table was lit, illuminating Maddie’s figure, scrunched over a stack of papers. 

“Hi, Mom,” Ty said quietly through heavy breaths.

Maddie looked up. Her large reading glasses covered half of her face, and the other half lit up with a wide smile. He must have looked wild, his hair sticking up in all directions and sweat dripping down his forehead. But if Maddie noticed, she didn’t show it. He shuffled across the room and hugged her warmly. When they pulled apart, she guided him to sit beside her.

“Where is everyone?” Ty asked, noting the uncharacteristically quiet house. 

Maddie removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes as she tried to remember, “Kyle’s at Nellie’s checking on the streaming setup. Katie’s at a sleepover at Erica’s. And Cal’s dealing with some stuff at the restaurant.”

Ty nodded, but he was distracted as he watched the slight crease of wrinkles around his mother’s eyes as she spoke, and the few grey hairs that escaped from her ponytail. He wondered when that had happened. Had he really been gone from home for so long?

“How did rehearsal go?” his mom broached with some hesitation. 

“I think you already know the answer to that,” Ty replied, knowing how the flow of information worked in Serenity.

His mom shot him a look of mock shock that he might think that. Ty mirrored it, as if to say that the performance wouldn’t work on him. 

Defeated, Maddie continued, “Ok! Maybe I do know, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

With a deep sigh, he folded his hands on the table and lay his head down. “It sucked,” he said, his voice hollow. 

“But it couldn't have been all that bad,” Maddie said, patting his arm, “Wasn’t it nice to practice with all the guys like old times?”

Old times. To Ty lately, the lines of time had blurred together so much so that he didn’t think that he could distinguish between years, days, or even hours ago. He couldn’t be altogether certain that he had a grasp on reality either. 

“I guess,” he muttered. 

“Ty, are you feeling okay? Have you been sleeping? Helen said that you weren’t at her’s anymore, and Dana Sue said you never stopped by at theirs. Are you staying with Gabe?” she asked with concern. Ty felt that the light above them had taken on a different quality now, as if spotlighting him in an interrogation.

“Who cares?” he retorted. 

“I care,” she said emphatically, “How come you ignore my calls? And don’t answer my messages? Where is your phone?”

Ty snapped, exasperated, “I don’t know! I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter! I’m clearly not wanted here. My management’s pissed. The band hates my guts. Annie can’t stand me, and I can’t even blame her because who could? She’s right.”

Ty’s voice rose as he shoved his chair back and moved away from the table, “Even you, my own mother, don’t want me in this house! I’ve been cut out of everyone’s life, and I keep wrecking it by thinking I still belong. Coming back to this so-called home was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. This isn’t home anymore. And the next time I leave, I swear I’m never coming back.”

Ty watched his mother shrink back from him, and he instantly felt guilty. 

“I’m sorry, Mom.. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.” He kept backing away until he met the wall, slumping down until he curled into himself on the floor. Tears gathered in his eyes. His voice came out meek and muffled from his position, trying to maintain some semblance of control, “I don’t know where that came from…I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

The next thing he knew, he felt his mother’s hand gently brushing his hair, and he let go, breaking down into sobs that filled the empty house. Through the hiccuping heaves of his chest, he asked, “Mom, why am I like this? What’s wrong with me?”

She leaned her head down close to his, “Honey, there’s nothing wrong with you. How could you say something like that?” 

His voice came out strangled. ‘It doesn’t matter where it’s from. It’s from me. Please… if something’s wrong with me, you’re my mom, you have to tell me, I need to know so I can fix it. I can change it! I could… I don’t know… take a class, get some help… do something. I have to fix it-”

“Ty-”

She pulled his head up from the table and wiped the tear streaks from beneath his puffy eyes. But Ty couldn’t meet her eyes, and he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the table.

“Oh my, Ty, I can’t…I had no idea you were hurting like this. We thought you wanted your space. I never thought…it’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

Ty now felt embarrassed at the scene he was making in front of her, “No, mom, it’s not-”

“Yes, it is. I’m your mother. I’m supposed to be there for you, and I’m sorry if I haven’t been. I can’t pretend to fully understand what you’re going through. But the idea that you could ever believe that you weren’t meant to exist exactly as you do now, as perfect as you are now, it hurts me. You deserve everything in this universe and more, Tyler Townsend.”

Ty smiled at her, but it was one of those smiles that didn’t reach his eyes. “And what if I really don’t?”

Maddie continued,  “I know it may be hard to believe right now, but trust me: there’s so much joy waiting for you in this world. All you have to do is choose to see it. And if it doesn’t come to you, remember that you are more than capable of creating that happiness yourself.”

Ty could tell that his mother still felt that Ty wasn’t convinced in the slightest, so she carried on, “Could I ever have imagined telling 23-year-old Maddie that the man she thought she was marrying wasn’t her soulmate? That he would actually cheat on her, yet also give her the three most precious beings in her universe? And that she would end up marrying the true love of her life, who was actually her son’s baseball coach?” 

She whispered conspiratorially, “That Maddie would have battered me with her carefully arranged bouquet of ivory roses.”

A real smile blossomed on Ty’s face and chipped away a tiny piece of that rust inside him. Maddie then took Ty’s hands in her own and gripped them tightly, “And you’re staying here tonight.”

“I thought you didn’t have the space,” he said. 

“Oh, that…don’t worry about that.” Her eyes shifted nervously, “We’ve cleared out your room. I wanted to tell you last night, but I couldn’t find you after the…” Her speech trailed off. 

“The engagement,” Ty tried to say evenly. 

“Yes. The engagement,” Maddie repeated, slightly more confident now that Ty had voiced the words. 

“It’s great, yeah. I am… very…very happy for her,” Ty managed to get out. 

“I know,” she answered simply, wrapping her arms around him. 

They sat like that on the cold kitchen tiles for a while, the silence speaking louder than anything they could say. Ty’s thoughts were scattered, but he knew he couldn’t keep behaving as he had. Hurting everyone he cared about just because he refused to accept what had happened. Running away when it obviously didn’t work, half-strung on realities that didn’t exist. It was destroying him. Acting like that reminded him of one person: his father. The thought sent a shudder down his spine. 

The next morning, Ty had promised himself that he would start getting things back on track by not participating in any more extracurricular Centennial activities. He owed it to Olivia and the band to focus on the concert. And the new song, which he had promised to write. Which he had also conveniently forgotten to work on since he arrived, because of how busy he was with the other Serenity nonsense and his recent mental breakdown. And that’s why all of that had to stop. That was, until Ronnie had asked him to join the charity baseball game. 

The baseball game was different. He hadn’t accepted the invitation because he thought that Annie might be there. Well, that may not have been entirely true. He was thinking about Annie, but only because he was always thinking about her. It was kind of his brain’s default mode. He had agreed because Ronnie had begged him, and what was one more activity in addition to the million of others he seemed to have accepted before? And he had never stopped liking baseball, so why not? The idea that Annie may or may not be there didn’t even factor into it. Not even a little bit. And he would have to face her sooner or later; so better that it be on his own terms in a public place where he wouldn’t have much opportunity to say something exceedingly stupid or unintentionally cruel. 

When he saw that Annie had shown up at the game, he really wanted to go over to the fence to at least say hello, but he decided against it when he saw that Stephen was stuck next to her like a leech. After the rush of their victory, he kept trying to seek her out, only to find that she had moved far from the field with Stephen. 

Lily appeared beside him as if out of thin air and followed his gaze to Annie and Stephen, “I always thought it would be you two.”

“Well, I guess it’s not.” Ty was surprised at the lack of bitterness in his tone. 

“Well, at least you don’t have to think about the what-ifs anymore. You can just go back to being friends.”

To any other onlookers, the couple may have seemed to be having a normal conversation after the game, but it didn’t seem that way to Ty. He noticed the slight tension in Annie’s shoulders and the worry on her brow. Coupled with Stephen’s cold gaze, Ty could tell that they were arguing. 

“Yeah…right,” he said absent-mindedly, staring at Annie as she ran after Stephen to the parking lot. Lily had a point, Ty thought, an idea brewing in his mind. 

Ty hadn’t planned what he was going to say at the lake. He should have rehearsed it, cringing to remember how lame and desperate he had probably sounded to Annie. She had probably accepted his proposition out of pity, but she had accepted it. One small step in the right direction. He had glanced over at her sleeping form in the passenger seat of the truck, illuminated by the red glow of the stoplight, to make sure that he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. 

After an awkward goodbye when they reached her house, Ty scrolled through messages on his phone, waiting for the slam of the door to make sure she’d gotten in okay. It never came. Instead, raised voices cut through the quiet, and when Ty looked up, Stephen was striding towards the truck. 

The tall man leaned in casually into the open window, an enigmatic smirk plastered across his face.

“Well, well… look who it is. How’s it going, man?”

Ty thought he detected something like sarcasm, or something darker, in his tone, but he didn’t know him well enough to be sure. 

“Uh…I don’t know-” he tried to look back at Annie for some clue about what was happening, but Stephen had completely blocked his view of her. 

Despite his cool tone, sweat slicked Stephen’s dirty blonde hair to his forehead, framing his flushed cheeks, “You know, I was thinking… we should really get to know each other. I think we could be great friends.”

Ty wasn’t sure whether to burst out laughing or gun the truck in reverse. His hand moved to the gear shift, but Stephen’s hand landed on it first, light but unyielding.

“Easy there,” Stephen said smoothly, “What’s the rush?” 

“It’s late. Should be getting back,” Ty said through clenched teeth. He didn’t know what had prompted Stephen to act like this, but he wasn’t interested in sticking around to find out. 

Stephen’s grin widened, “No way. Dana Sue was about to call us to dinner, and I told her you’d join.” He pulled away the truck, folding his arms across his chest, “You wouldn’t want to disappoint her…would you?”

Ty could have sworn he was in heaven, if only he could dissociate from the fact that he was sitting directly across from Stephen and Annie, with Ronnie and Dana Sue at opposite ends of the table. Dana Sue had prepared his favorite: biscuits and gravy, almost as if she’d known he would be there. Rich, creamy sausage gravy was ladled generously over huge, golden-brown, and impossibly fluffy biscuits. On the side were thick slices of fried green tomatoes, their tangy crunch a perfect contrast to the richness of the biscuits and gravy, which Ty proceeded to drown in copious amounts of hot sauce. He devoured the food like he hadn’t eaten in days, which may not have been far from the truth.

He tried to ignore the couple in front of him, instead showering Dana Sue with praise for the meal and trading baseball stats with Ronnie. But he was keenly aware of Stephen’s simmering shift in demeanor, feeling the man’s seething glare burning from across the table. Ty caught himself counting the number of knives laid out. Just a precaution, he told himself.

Annie sat rigidly, eyes fixed on her plate, pushing food around but never eating. Now and then, her gaze flicked toward Stephen, tense and wary.

Dana Sue started up another branch of conversation. “Ty, honey, I wanted to tell you how much I love your last CD. Maddie sent it to me, and it’s the only thing I’ll listen to in the car or when I’m prepping for a catering event.”

Ronnie jumped in. “It’s true. She’ll stop anyone on the street or in the restaurant to talk about our pride of Serenity that she’s known since he was in diapers, practically like her own son. Your label needs to take notes from this one-woman marketing machine.”

Ty noticed Annie’s hand twitch slightly, a shadow of anxiety passing across her face, although he couldn’t understand what might be troubling her. Surely that bit of acting they had done at the bar had been explained to Stephen later? That she had explained how she and Ty really knew each other?

Stephen suddenly butted in. “They really should. Have you even cracked Today’s Top Hits? That’s really the stamp of success these days for commercialized drivel.”

“I wouldn’t know, I don’t really pay attention to the numbers,” Ty said, turning to Dana Sue. “But thank you. You really don’t have to do that.”

“Ah, don’t be so bashful. It’s good music. I think it’s a gift to tell people to listen to it,” Dana Sue said earnestly, making Ty redden.

“A gifted musical genius and still a baseball prodigy. Leave some talent for the rest of us,” Ronnie teased.

“Oh no, I wasn’t good at all,” Ty said, trying to laugh it off.

“Nonsense. You were the best player on the field by far. No offense, Steve buddy,” Ronnie continued. “And the arm strength you still have, Ty, it’s incredible. Must be from all that guitar playing.”

Ty felt thoroughly embarrassed, his cheeks burning. Stephen’s hostility seemed to intensify, radiating palpably from across the table.

Ronnie turned to Annie, a teasing edge in his voice. “See? Wasn’t it worth it for me to make you go watch such professional ball playing?”

He leaned toward Ty. “I had to drag her out there. All she wants to do these days is prepare for her big interview.”

Ty noticed that neither Ronnie nor Dana Sue had made any reference to the previous evening or Annie and Stephen’s engagement. Strange.

“Big interview?” Ty asked.

“Yes! With Time! Isn’t that exciting?” Dana Sue exclaimed.

“Mom, I don’t have the job yet. There’s nothing to be excited about,” Annie cautioned.

“But you’re a shoo-in for it. And it’s your dream job,” Ronnie pressed. “The ranger story is gonna blow all of those other entries out of the water.”

“Was that the one for the National Parks Conservation Association?” Ty asked.

“You saw that?” Annie replied in surprise. 

“Yeah, your mom sent it to me,” Ty admitted, although he hadn’t used the link she sent. Ever since Annie left for California, he’d followed her photography account with a fake account he had created. That meant that he got the notification as soon as the story was posted. It may have been 2 a.m. in Tokyo, but he had studied each photo and story carefully. “They were all great, but I loved Judy’s.”

“From MLK Park?”

“Yes. What was it that she said? Something like, ‘Remember, your path is a circle. It connects you not only to where you are going, but also to where you have been…’” He faltered. 

“‘Never be confused about who you are. Never give up on your dream,” Annie said, finishing the line, her voice soft and certain. 

“Yeah, exactly.” Annie’s eyes met Ty’s. It lasted a beat too long, and he thought he might have forgotten how to breathe. It felt natural, like the gentle tug of a tide pulling him back out to sea. Yet beneath it, there was something else. Something bright and dangerous. Something that felt a lot like rays of hope.

Stephen cleared his throat, and Annie quickly dropped her gaze. “Well, you never know about the competition. It’s amazing to have even been considered.”

“Even my work may not be good enough. My piece on the major crypto CEOs in the country and their incredible contributions to society will be a tough act for you to follow,” Stephen added easily, his tone almost cutting.

“Follow?” Annie asked, confused.

“Well, my interview’s at 9:30, right before yours at 10,” Stephen said, taking a deliberate bite. 

Annie’s face went pale, and her fork clattered onto the plate, making Ty flinch.

“You’re also interviewing at Time?” Annie whispered.

Ty noticed Dana Sue and Ronnie exchange unreadable glances across the table.

Stephen laughed, oblivious. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? My dad and the editor-in-chief, Tom, were frat brothers in college, so he said I had to go. I’d prefer something more adventurous, but I figured this would be a good way to dip my feet into something light… do some networking before stepping onto something better.”

Whatever had been worrying Annie earlier seemed to vanish, replaced with an inexpressible, rising anger. She was still momentarily lost for words, and Ty felt like this was his cue to leave. He mopped the last bit of gravy from his plate with a piece of biscuit, excused himself, and, for the second time in two days, made a hasty exit from the Sullivan house.