Year 28 - J.L. Mac Page 0,42

beside the Palmetto Boardwalk. I smile fully because it’s the boardwalk! “Okay Sylas Broussard, I have underestimated you yet again.” I admit with feigned reluctance.

The minute my feet are on the ground, my sandals slapping against the dirt, he folds my hand in his like it’s the most natural thing in the world and a tiny part of me kind of thinks it might be.

He drags me all over; spending all the money he makes doing yard work on games, winning a teddy bear, buying me a corn dog and riding the Ferris wheel with me. Every attraction I point to he is quick to take us that direction and I feel like the center of the world. The hours pass too quickly with us wrapped up in this new normal between the two of us. We’ve always been friends—enemies, even so this… this whatever we are is a revelation.

“This has been fun, thank you for taking me.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. Come on,” he says tugging me toward a photo booth. I giggle but allow him to pull me behind him. He feeds the machine the cash and pulls me down into his lap. The digital screen counts down and begins flashing the camera. We both smile, make silly faces, rabbit ears and then he brushes his hand against my cheek forcing me to look at him.

“You can thank me now,” he says quietly, his expression softened, his eyes focused on mine. He gently cups my face in his hands and presses his mouth to mine. The world falls away in that moment and I fall a little more for Sylas Broussard the boy I almost convinced to leave me alone. What a tragedy that would have been.

“What were you thinking about,” he asks from beside me, jarring me out of my escape down memory lane. The bastard.

“Nothing.” I pick invisible crumbs off my lap and shake off the memory of us, which is unfortunate. I actually look back on that memory of that date with so much love. It was the tipping point for me. The point where the weight of things shift and nothing short of a planetary cataclysmic episode can force things off course. I began my descent into true love that night.

Oh to go back…

“Your ears still get pink on the tips when you’re angry or turned on,” he notes matter of fact. “I always loved that,” he adds quietly. I don’t know what to say to that so I don’t say anything. I just stare out my window at the Louisiana scenery zipping by us.

“So you don’t know what I do?” he asks several minutes later. We’ve been driving a while and my back has already grown stiff. I furrow my brows and shake my head vaguely recalling momma saying he runs a fishing company or something.

“Boating or something?” I ask a little ashamed that I don’t already know what he has done with his life.

“I run a chartered fishing company but most of it is a non-profit for veterans, first responders, law enforcement, and their families. We fly them out, put them up in hotels and we take them fishin’ for free. They come from all over. We even have a volunteer photographer that takes photos of their trip for them.”

“Wow,” I breathe feeling a spear of sorrow slice through me.

“Guys with PTSD, Wounded Warriors, Gold Star families, stuff like that,” he says.

“That’s admirable, Sy. Truly,” I say looking up at him just long enough to make my heart stumble over itself. His eyes are practically twinkling with pride and I find myself feeling a little jealous. Okay, a lot jealous. I can’t imagine having a job that makes me light up like that. My work with politicians does little good for my soul but it does make me feel alive, it gets my blood pumping.

Yeah, so does cocaine but you don’t cram that up your nose, do you? Self-Loathing clips. I swear, the bitch resides at the bottom of the dirty laundry basket in my internal closet. She loves this trip about as much as I do.

I enjoy my job most of the time because its cutthroat high-stakes atmosphere leaves no room for my past to bug me at night. Or anytime, really. It’s a good career, but it doesn’t make me fucking glow. Sylas is glowing. I get antacids to battle chronic indigestion and knots in my neck due to stress. Sy gets fulfillment, peace and boat trips. Sounds about right.

“I