At first, his constant attentiveness and random bathroom appearances make me laugh. “Timmy!” I’d say, playfully pushing him away. But now it’s just part of our routine. He’salwaysthere, whether I want him to be or not. And while part of me feels a little suffocated by it, another part of me finds it… sweet? Endearing, even.
Because when he holds me, it’s like I’m wrapped in something warm and fluffy—like a cloud, or maybe a delicious croissant. Something soft, comforting, and buttery.
His arms around me feel safe, like a cocoon I never want to leave. And when he looks into my eyes, I see a tenderness there, a kind soul who truly wants to spend every moment with me. It’s flattering, honestly. I feel cherished in a way I never have before, like I’m the most important person in the world to him.
I’ve never been good at balancing closeness and space. As a stubborn Taurus with a streak of codependency and an anxious attachment style, I’m all in when it comes to relationships. So maybe this is what love is supposed to feel like. Maybe this constant closeness, this 24/7 connection, is just part of being with someone who truly cares. It’s not like he’s doing anything wrong. I guess it could seem like he’s keeping tabs on me, but I get the feeling he just… wants to be with me. And isn’t that a good thing?
Still, there’s a small voice in the back of my mind, whispering that I might need more space. That it’s okay to want to do things on my own sometimes. But when I think of him, how much he loves me, how much he wants to be around me, I brush the thought away.
Because who am I to say no to someone who loves me this much—who makes me feel this special, this needed?
26
STEVE THE HORSE COP
The Next Day
“Let’s go for a drive around the coast! There’s so much I want to show you.”
Timmy’s voice is bubbling with excitement, and I can’t help but smile. This trip feels like a redemption arc for me too. Last time I visited Sunset Cay, it was with my ex, and the memory is less about the coastline’s beauty and more about his relentless complaining. I’d planned a scenic drive just like this, eager to explore hidden beaches and charming roadside cafes. To show him places where I had fond memories with my parents, back in happier times. But my ex ruined the day, saying it was a waste of time to sit in a car when we could be drinking by a pool. That day trip ended in a fight that tainted every stop we made.
Now, though, Timmy’s excitement is infectious. The way he talks about the beaches and surf spots, it’s clear he loves this place with every ounce of his chaotic heart. I watch him gear up for the day, throwing on a Superman cape, a bold USA flag cap, and his deer claw necklace. He looks ridiculous—and perfect, in his own way. That’s Timmy. Always a spectacle, always unapologetically himself.
As we hit the road, I feel like I’m reclaiming the experience Iwanted on my last vacation here. The palm trees sway over the road as we drive past packed beaches and quaint coastal neighborhoods, the kind of scenery I’ve always dreamed of living in. And now, somehow, I do. I pull out my phone to record short videos and take pictures, thinking how surreal it all feels.
“This place is so gorgeous,” I say, glancing at Timmy. “You know what we should do? We should make a TikTok account. Share our adventures.”
He grins, his eyes lighting up. “Like a podcast?”
I laugh. “More like short videos. Reels and stuff. We could capture the fun, you know? I bet people would love it.”
“Hell yeah!” He bounces in his seat. “I’ve got a few ideas for pranks that would make people laugh.”
It feels good, this shared excitement—this sense that we’re building something fun together, moment by moment.
We make several stops along the coast, and at one point, Timmy pulls into a small farm surrounded by swaying fields and distant mountains. “I just need a minute,” he says, hopping out of the truck. “A friend of mine’s in the hospital, and his neighbors are watching the farm. I want to check in and see if they need help.”
While he talks to a woman near the fence, I watch him from the car, marveling at how well-connected he is. Timmy seems to know everyone, and not just in a casual way—he genuinely cares about these people. It’s one of the things that draws me to him, even if his eccentricity can be overwhelming at times. He’s like a patchwork quilt of wild, messy kindness.
When he slides back into the driver’s seat, he’s still animated. “I really want you to meet Steve,” he says as we pull back onto the road. “He’s one of my best friends, and has been since we were kids. Always got my back.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s a park ranger on another island. Pretty cool job—he works on horseback. Steve the Horse Cop, we call him. His family’s over there, but when he’s off, he stays with his parents here.”
I like the sound of Steve. From the way Timmy describes him, heseems grounded, a stabilizing presence in Timmy’s otherwise unpredictable world. It’s reassuring. Maybe Timmy has his wild streak, but if a guy like Steve is still in his life after all these years, it suggests Timmy knows how to keep some things steady when it matters.
But as we get closer to Steve’s place, Timmy’s mood shifts. He stops to grab a bottle of Fireball and downs some of it on the road, his energy morphing into something more volatile.
“You’re a shit DJ,” he snaps at one point, swiping the phone from my hand when I can’t find a song he requested quick enough for his liking. “Just give it to me. You fucking suck at this.”
His words hit like a slap. “I’m really sorry,” I mutter, feeling the sting rise in my throat.
He scoffs. “Don’t quit your day job.”
Tears well up, and I fight to keep them at bay. “Are you crying?” he asks, his voice sharp.
“No,” I whisper, biting my lip.