Bring Me Your Midnight(34)

“It’s nothing,” I say, keeping my voice casual. “Just a small token for Wolfe.”

Ivy stops and raises an eyebrow. “Wolfe?”

“The boy I met on the beach.”

“So he has a name,” she says, a slight pull to her lips.

“Of course he has a name.”

She holds her hands up in defense, and we start walking again.

“What kind of token are you making?”

Embarrassment makes me look away again. “A cologne made from scents of our night together.”

“Oh, Tana,” Ivy says, her voice sad. “That’s a lovely gift. But it’s…” She struggles to find the right word.

“Do you think it’s too much? I’m not really sure what the etiquette is on thank-you gifts.”

Ivy shakes her head, then looks me in the eye. “I think it’s dangerous.”

The words make my heart race, make dread stir in my stomach, and I force the feeling away and keep my voice even. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Ivy doesn’t seem fazed, and she loops her arm through mine.

“This boy could break your heart,” she says.

“Break my heart?” I ask, laughing. “It’s just a gift.”

“Is it?” she asks.

“Of course.” I want to tell Ivy that he saved my life, that giving him something in return is the least I can do.

We’re both quiet for a while, the sounds of our footfalls on the soft earth and the leaves rustling in the autumn breeze filling the air between us.

“You want him to remember you,” Ivy says, looking at me with a mix of pity and understanding and sadness, and it frustrates me, seeing those things reflected back at me. I’m stung by her words because it’s such a ridiculous thing, but the way my face heats when she says them tells me she’s right. She’s right, and I hate it.

“You don’t need to ascribe meaning where there is none,” I say, defensiveness rising inside me. “He helped me with something, and I just want to say thank you. That’s all.”

Ivy watches me, considering my words. “How will you even find him?”

“He told me the next time he’ll be on the island,” I lie, and I’m disgusted by how easily it rolls off my tongue.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she finally says. I’m about to argue when she speaks again. “But you clearly haven’t moved on from this, and seeing him once more might give you the closure you need.”

“I don’t need closure,” I say.

“Then why do you want to see him?”

I sigh, and Ivy wraps her arm around my shoulders, leaning her head against mine. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I do need closure.

“Listen, if you want to give him a gift, give him a gift. Say whatever it is you need to say, then never see him again.”

“You’re making this out to be a bigger deal than it is,” I say, needing the words to be true.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to downplay this, but you’ve never had a remotely romantic situation with someone before, and that’s bound to make you feel things.”

“I’m not sure I’d call it romantic.”

Ivy laughs. “You swam with a mainlander by the light of the moon. You don’t think that’s romantic?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was,” I finally say. It was necessary and intense, terrifying and relieving. I don’t think it was romantic, but I get what Ivy is saying.

“Which brings me back to my last point. Say thank you, then never see him again. Get the closure you need so he is no longer a distraction. That’s the best you can hope for.”

Hope paves the way for wanting things that were never part of the plan.

“Okay. Never again,” I agree.

She studies my face, seemingly trying to figure out how serious I am, then nods as if she’s satisfied.

She changes the subject, talking about the tea shop and different brews she’s working on. Then, as we make our way back toward Main Street, she says, “Don’t hate me.”

“Oh no.”

“My parents want me to make a new blend… inspired by you and Landon… called Tandon.”

“Absolutely not,” I say, horrified.

“I told my parents you wouldn’t like it, but they insisted.”

“And what would you magic it with?”

“Excitement and peace,” she says. She lowers her voice and gets a mischievous look on her face. “But I’d add a drop of quiet defiance, just for you.”

“Excuse me, when have I ever been defiant?”

“You’re defiant every day when you quietly insist on walking the path your parents have laid out for you on your own terms. You’re defiant when you’re honest with Landon and when you go swimming in your nicest dresses.” She pauses. “And you’re definitely being defiant by making a boy named Wolfe a memory keeper.”

“I never said it was a memory keeper.” The spell I spoke earlier rushes back to my mind, and I blush.

“You may as well have,” Ivy says, rolling her eyes.

I don’t admit to it, but she knows me too well.

We walk back into the shop, and I take off my jacket and head over to the wooden island to finish Wolfe’s cologne.