“I went to find my dad. I needed to know why he left.” We’d barely spoken about my dad and his role in my life, or lack thereof and I was still concerned about how you were feeling. The last thing I wanted was for you to feel sorry for me. “My grandma had heard that he and my uncle ended up in Alaska. When I got there I met this guy that told me this long story about my dad and how he used to be a fisherman with his brother for this company that went out for Chinook Salmon and King Crabs. So I went and tried to find the ship that they had worked for. My dad was long gone, but they offered me a job and the chance to go to more ports where he might still be working.” You smiled at me then, it was an encouraging smile, like you wanted to learn more about me. “That’s where I met Jameson. We spent seven months out on the ocean together. Few people remembered my dad. So when we docked I got off and enrolled at the University of Alaska and continued looking for people that might know something. Jameson and I met Landon there. He’d just gotten out of the Army and was going to school. Every once in a while someone would swear they knew who I was talking about and would tell me where to go, but they were all a bunch of loose ends. Who knows, he’s probably dead.” Don’t ask me why I ended with that when I was worried about you feeling sorry for me. Something about you has always made me say way more than I’ve ever intended. I wanted you to know me, Ace, I still do. I want you to know everything about me—even the bad, because when you look at me with that smile, my smile, I feel like even my ugly isn’t so bad.

My fingers constricted around the wheel again with regret as I worked to explain why I assumed he was gone. “He was a heavy alcoholic that liked to gamble and use his fists to make his hard-headed points. He’s been gone a long time.”

You were staring at me. I could feel it, but was afraid you were because you thought I was a terrible person. “I feel sorry for him.”

Your words made my neck nearly snap as I turned to see if you were kidding. “What?”

“I feel sorry for him, for missing out on seeing who you are.” I snickered, still unsure if you were pulling my leg. “I’m serious. You’re pretty great, Max.”

That word set me off in a tailspin. Great? You thought I was great? A great what, friend? Person? Guy? Neighbor?

You looked just as lost in thought, your eyes focused on my chest. I was sure you were thinking of the fight again because even in the dark, the streetlamps were revealing traces of blood I hadn’t managed to fully wipe off. “What are you thinking about over there, Ace?” If I knew you better, I would have known by the way your eyes flashed to mine and then away just as quickly and your hands clenched around the seat, that I’d caught you checking me out, and you were embarrassed. Maybe I would have then, but my damn phone started ringing and we both looked down to see ‘Megan’ across my screen. I can’t tell you how much I still loathe thinking of that moment.

“You can get that if you want.” Every barrier we’d managed to knock down over the summer was back up.

“That’s alright.” I hit ignore, hoping you would realize I had no interested in talking to her as we pulled into my driveway.

I wasn’t that lucky. You were out of the car the second I placed the Jeep in park.

I was frustrated. I was so frustrated, Ace. I was dealing with way too much shit. Between warring with myself to tell you how I felt, and seeing Eric earlier in the week, and Pedro that night, the fight, telling you about my dad, and having you react so cold so quickly from Megan’s call, I was just done. “Why are you still dating him?” The irritation I was feeling made my question sound like a demand.

Irritation flickered across your face before your face smoothed into calmness that only irked me more. “Why does it matter?”

“Are you kidding me? Why does it matter?” I don’t know what my reaction was. All I remember is feeling so angry that if I could have, I would have punched the moon into the next galaxy after your flippant response. “Why are you doing this?”

“You’re dating Felicia!”

I should have clarified things then. Told you I dumped her and that it was never anything more than her intrigue into rumors about me, but I feared that would give you every opportunity, and leave me without any. “What do you want me to do? You confuse the shit out of me, Ace!” I raked a hand through my hair, praying you’d tell me you were going to leave him. That what I felt wasn’t something I was imagining.

“I’m tired of trying to read through the lines, Max!”

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you! As your friend, I’m telling you, you should dump the fucker and get it over with. He’s a complete dick. You deserve better than him.” We’ve since discussed why you felt like I’d been “gray,” and though I understand your point, I meant what I said. As much as I wanted you, and wanted you to want me, I wanted you to be happy more than anything. Even then, and even more now. God I miss you, Ace. Right now, next door seems like a million miles away.

“I appreciate your friendly advice, Max.” Your tone confirmed I should have revealed more than I did. I should have laid it all out for you. You took a step to move past me, and I knew I needed to do it now, before you shut that door and created a new barrier.

“Ace …”

I think you heard the desperation in my voice, because you turned, your lips curving around your teeth like you were trying to keep your own words back, and then my damn, fucking, piece of shit phone rang again.

“It sounds like she’s looking for you.”

“Dammit!” That expletive was in response to so many things at that moment.

I went home to take a fast shower, and headed to bed before the others got home because I wouldn’t be able to face Jameson or Landon without them both knowing exactly what I was feeling.

I started working on Clementine with your dad two days after that first barbecue at your house last June. I hadn’t known what to expect exactly, as friendly as your dad had always been with me, I still didn’t know him all that well.

The time we spent together out in the shop, were some of the highlights of last summer. You know how you said your dad can get people to confess anything to him? I think he was just as anxious to make his own confessions, because we spent countless afternoons taking turns talking about different experiences. Some seemed like surface topics to anyone that caught a few words, but I told your dad things that I’ve never told anyone, apart from you that is. He never seemed to judge me, or look at me with disdain. Often, he wouldn’t even offer advice, knowing I wasn’t looking for it. He just listened, and shared. Sometimes Jameson and Landon would come along, and other times, Kyle would be there, and though the conversations were generally lighter those times, they were still significant.

Kyle joined us one afternoon, his eyes round and his hair sticking up like he’d been electrocuted. He ran his hands through it, reflecting why it was standing and sighed.

“I swear. If I have to go home right now, I might kill her. She’s driving me crazy,” he growled.

I expected your dad to be upset, but he just laughed and tossed him a rag.

“Seriously, why does she have to be so damn stubborn?”

“She’s a quarter Puerto Rican and fifty percent Texan. What do you expect?”

Kyle huffed out a laugh and turned to look at me. “So you’re sticking around for the summer, huh?”

I don’t know why he asked me this. We’d already discussed it at the barbecue, but I assumed it was a surface topic.

“Yeah, until school starts. Then we’ll be moving closer to campus.”