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“Are you eating?”
“Yes.”
“You look thin.”
“I’m eating, Mom.”
“Sleeping?”
“Yes.”
“Griffin.”
She says my name in that same mother-voice she used when I said I wanted to move off the farm and into town. She made me promise to come home at least once a week, or she’d knock on my door every Sunday at midday.
“Alright, sweetheart.” She kisses my cheek. “I have to go back to my stand, but I expect you early on Thursday so I can fuss over my youngest baby.”
I chuckle. “I thought Kay was your youngest baby. Feels wrong to take that from a fourteen-year-old.”
“You’ll always be my baby.”
She lets me go, and I stand at the maple candy stall for a moment after she walks away, watching her navigate the crowd and then stop to talk to someone.
The problem is I know where I need to go next. I’ve been putting it off for the best part of the day because it’s one thing to lie to my friend through text and another to do it to his face.
Taylen’s stall is at the far end of the row, past the cider donuts and the woman selling knitted hats shaped like woodland animals.
I take a breath and start walking.
By the time I reach him, he’s down to his last few jars of apple chutney and a small pile of apples. His display has been picked clean by the crowd. He’s leaning against the back of his stall with his arms crossed, and even from ten feet away, I can see the shadows under his eyes.
He looks tired. Guilt punches at my gut.
“Good day?”
He straightens with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Best market day I’ve had all season. Should be completely sold out within the hour.”
I nod and make a note on my tablet to put him in the same spot next market. When I look up, Taylen is watching me.
“You still up for dinner and drinks after I pack up?” he asks. “Joe’s? I could use the company after the week I’ve had.”
I adjust the hat on my head. This is what we do after every market. We unwind after the long day, and if Taylen’s sold all his stock, we stay longer at Joe’s, drink a little more, and then he crashes at my place.
There’s no way to say yes to it this time.
My hesitation has an immediate effect on Taylen. His eyes can’t hide the hurt even as his gaze lowers to the almost-bare stand.
He needs his best friend. I need my best friend too. But I’m too afraid of what will come out of my mouth once I’ve had a few drinks.
Taylen seems to be in a war with my brother. In the few messages we’ve exchanged over the last week, it seems they’ve been sending each other escalating gifts. One of which is a rooster, likely the reason for the shadows under Taylen’s eyes.
If we go out, he’ll tell me all about Bastian. If I have one too many drinks, I’ll tell him all about Fox. And that…can’t happen.
“I can’t tonight.” My voice comes out steadier than I expected. “Got a bunch of work to catch up on. Rain check?”
“Sure,” he says. “Rain check.”
