Tyler's words repeat in my head over and over again. All night, I was tossing and turning, going over the events of the day before. Just drop it! Okay? No one has ever snapped at me like that before. I wouldn't have expected Tyler- the gentle boy I've come to know- to be the first. At some point in the night, when my comforter was thrown to the side and my limbs were curled together, I cried. It was silent. And somehow that made it ten times worse. It was like my body knew that there was no justifiable reason for me to be upset. Like it was ashamed to make a noise and risk someone finding out.

It's true, right? Tyler was hurt in that restaurant, not me. He was the one the man was inflicting his lethal words at. But I wasn't crying because of what Tyler said to me. I know that now. They were tears of fear, burning my cheeks. One second, I was standing by his side, arms interlinked and a smile on my face, and then the next I was alone.

He still hasn't come back to me.

I think I got maybe an hour's sleep tops. Even when I managed to succumb to the fatigue gripping my body, my worries still plagued my dreams. I know what you did, boy. Tyler told me, on our way back from the lighthouse, that he did some things he wasn't proud of. When he said he wasn't that person anymore, I believed him. I still believe him. But he knew that man in the restaurant. This wasn't the first time he's harassed him. And the chances are he isn't the only person who knows. So, what could he have done that warrants an attack like that?

"Hey, you okay?" Olivia's hand touches my back gently, pulling me out of my thoughts. Her brows are furrowed in concern. "You look like you haven't slept in days."

I tuck my hair behind my ears. I didn't have the energy to do anything with it this morning. "I feel like I haven't," I groan.

"Do you want to go sit down? I can take over out here if you need me to."

A small smile tugs at my lips. "No, honestly, I'm fine. Just had a rough night, that's all."

She pushes her glasses back up her nose when they fall. She's placing key rings on hooks near the door today, each one with a different landmark. She grabs the box opener and turns to me. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

The sound of metal slicing through tape grates through me. I stop her before she can open another box. "Actually, there might be something. Any chance you know Tyler?" I want to shove the words back in my mouth as soon as I've said them.

She places a hand on her hip. "Tyler..." She trails off.

I stare at her blankly. She's waiting for me to tell her his last name. I know she is. Shame twists inside of me at the realization that I don't even know his last name. He hasn't told me, and I haven't asked.

"Uh, I don't know." I smile awkwardly. "He has blonde curls, likes to surf, he's about this tall." I reach my hand above my head.

"Tyler Evans?"

"Maybe."

"If you mean Tyler Evans then yeah, kind of. I don't know him personally, but I know of him," she says.

As she stares at me with open eyes, made slightly larger by the lenses of her glasses, I hesitate to ask my next question. I should trust Tyler. I do trust him. And I know that, with time, he'll tell me what the man from the restaurant and the officer from the lighthouse were talking about. But if I don't find out soon, I know how it's going to end up. I'll make up possibilities in my head. Each one worse than the one before. And I'll end up pushing him away. Worrying why I'm not trustworthy enough to be told.

"Okay, weird question," I start, chewing on my lip. "Do you know what happened to him? Why he was in juvie?"

She raises her brows. "I forget you're not from around here. Yeah, I know. I think everybody in town knows what he did." She looks at the door to check there are no customers before continuing. "I don't know the whole story. But I do know that he got involved with the wrong type of people a couple of years back. They did drugs, vandalized, that type of stuff."

"Anything else?" I ask, desperate to know more. That man wouldn't have spoken to him the way he did yesterday over some graffiti on a few walls. My heart rate spikes in anticipation. Fear. Concern. Guilt.

I shouldn't be hearing this from Olivia. But I don't stop her from continuing.

"I heard they robbed a store off the highway. Held a man at gunpoint." A lump forms in my throat but I swallow it. Nausea hits me like a tidal wave, and I cling to the shelf beside me. "People say it was an accident, but nobody knows what to believe at this point."

"What do you mean?"

"The man died that day."

At that moment, I feel like I've been hit by a truck. Like my ribs have cracked open and punctured my heart. My vision blurs and my knees threaten to buckle beneath me. If I wasn't holding onto the shelf, I think they would. My breathing grows labored, but I desperately try to keep the broken pieces together for a little bit longer.

"Sorry, I think I'm coming down with something. Do you mind if I take the rest of the day off?" The wobble in my voice gives me away. I wouldn't be surprised if my eyes were already red. My hand clutches at my chest, trying to keep the sobs down.

"Yeah, of course. Whatever you need," she says.

I don't wait another second before I'm out the door. The breeze does nothing to make me feel better. It's like a fire has ignited inside me, burning me from the inside out. No matter what I do to try to put it out, it doesn't work. With each step, the sidewalk tilts and blurs. Tears are already stuffing my throat.

I can't breathe.

Somehow, I manage to stumble into an alleyway before I collapse. Sliding down the brick wall behind me, not even feeling the way it grazes my exposed back. I throw up on the floor next to me. Break down into a fit of sobs. Throw up again.

It feels like the ground has been ripped out from beneath my feet.

I haven't felt this much pain since that day.