We sit in silence for a moment, before Hannah looks at me and says, “She really was our sun, wasn’t she? I mean, we were a foursome, but in a lot of ways, she was our center.”

“Yeah,” I say, getting a bit uneasy with the direction of the conversation. “She was our leader. From the very beginning. But who knows how that might have changed over the years….” My voice trails off.

“Why would that have changed?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Just that ‘sliding doors’ concept. Lots of things could have changed our dynamic. We might have had a fight or a breakup—” I stop suddenly, realizing what I’ve just said.

“A breakup?” Hannah asks.

“Well, not a breakup per se, but a rift or a fallout—” I stammer, trying to cover for myself.

Hannah gives me a suspicious look.

I put my shades back on and close my eyes, but I can feel Hannah staring at me.

“Tyson?” she says after a few seconds.

“Yeah?” I say, bracing myself. Somehow, I know what’s coming even before she asks the question.

Sure enough, she says, “Did you ever have feelings for Summer?”

My heart skips a beat and my jaw clenches. “What do you mean?” I ask.

“You know what I mean, Tyson. Romantic feelings.”

“Why would you ask that?” I say, my eyes still closed.

“I’m just curious,” she says. “I always suspected that she had feelings for you, but did you have feelings for her?”

I inhale deeply, my chest rising. I start to lie, but I can’t do it anymore. For all these years, telling the truth felt like a betrayal to Summer. Now, suddenly, it feels like a betrayal not to tell the truth. To both Summer and Hannah.

I glance over at Hannah. She is staring at me intently. Knowingly. I take a deep breath as she sits up in her chair, turning to face me.

I remove my sunglasses, turn my head, and look her right in the eye.

“Yes,” I finally say, knowing that I’ll never be able to put the genie back in the bottle.

“Oh my God,” Hannah says. “Did she know how you felt?”

“Yes. She did,” I say, feeling light-headed.

“So y’all…talked about it?”

I take a few measured breaths, then sit up and face her all the way, my feet planted on the sundeck. “We more than talked about it, Hannah.”

She stares at me, looking shocked. “You were…together?”

“Sort of,” I say. I take a deep breath and start rambling. “It started in April. Before graduation. I kissed her—and we hung out a few times after that. I was in her room the night before she died…. Nothing happened. She was just studying. But I saw her for a few minutes—”

“Oh my God, Tyson,” she whispers. “I had no idea.”

I bite my lip and nod, feeling a wave of familiar guilt that I was the last person to talk to Summer in any meaningful way. I’d been in the best position to prevent what happened. I could have stayed in her room. And I didn’t.

“How have you kept this secret for so long?” she says.

I shake my head and say, “I didn’t see how telling you would have helped the situation.”

“Wait. Does anyone know? Did you tell Summer’s parents?”

I shake my head. “No. You were the only one I considered telling. I almost did. So many times.”

“What stopped you?” Hannah asks.

I sigh and say, “I don’t know. I could never get the words out. And part of me felt it would be disloyal to Summer…. It was her secret, too.”

Hannah nods, her eyes wide. “Well, I’m glad you finally told me. And I hope you feel a weight lifted. I can’t believe you’ve lived with that all alone for all these years.”

I nod, realizing that I do feel lighter. But I can’t help wondering if Hannah now blames me, on some level, for what happened. Something on her face seems slightly off.

“I want to talk about this more,” she says, her voice sounding funny, too.

“We don’t have to, actually,” I say. “There’s not much more to say.”

“Still. I’d like to,” she says. “But for now, we should probably go check on Lainey.”

“Probably,” I say, grateful for a subject change.

We gather up our things and head back inside. The cold, dark bar is a shock to the system and a bit depressing after being out in the bright sunlight. We look around, but there is no sign of Lainey or Dog Boy.

“Oh, snap,” I say under my breath. “This isn’t a good sign.”

“I’m sure she just went upstairs to sleep it off.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Sleep it off—or sleep with—”

“Tyson. Stop.”

“Well, don’t act like that’s not a distinct possibility.”

“No way. They just met. It’s the middle of the day.”

I shake my head at her “middle of the day” comment, guessing that Hannah is a sex-at-bedtime kind of girl—and only after her teeth are brushed and flossed.

“Besides, he’s not her type,” Hannah says. “He seems a little nerdy for her.”

“Oh, please. Lainey doesn’t have a type. Anything goes,” I say.

We ride the elevator in silence, and a few seconds later, we’re in front of our door. I put my key card up to the sensor. It turns green, but as I push the door open, I discover that Lainey has the security guard latched.