When you’re facing the past, you need to recognize that you’re running the risk of being hurt. You see, as time goes on in life, you realize that the definite in life is that the circle of life isn’t something that you can outrun. Death comes in many forms.
It comes in relationships.
It comes in life.
I know that when it comes to Every Year After, we’re only on the second episode, but we’re immediately hit with a lot of feelings of love and a lot of indecision. It’s a reality that I don’t want to deal with, so I am not expecting these characters to want to deal with the pain of the past either.
I want them to move forward.
THE BEER
Sam is all Percy can think about.
Coming back to Barry’s Bay was supposed to be about Sue’s funeral, but by this point, it’s obvious that Sam is at the center of everything. Being back means revisiting a part of her life she spent years trying not to think about.
What makes it harder is that Sam isn’t behaving the way she expected.
If I were Percy, I’d be completely confused.
Whatever happened between them was clearly devastating. She’s spent a decade carrying the guilt of it around, so I don’t think she came back expecting kindness. Yet every interaction with Sam seems to challenge the version of the story she’s been telling herself.
Unable to sleep, Percy breaks into the tavern through a window she knows used to be broken.
Apparently, some things in Barry’s Bay never change.
What she doesn’t expect is finding Sam there. Honestly, that may be exactly what both of them need.
One of the things I like about Charlie is that he keeps forcing Percy to see a version of events that doesn’t revolve entirely around her guilt. Every conversation they have chips away at the idea that she’s the only person who has been carrying this loss.
As for Sam, I’m still trying to figure him out. Part of me wants to believe he’s being kind because he genuinely cares about Percy and always has. That, despite everything that happened, he can’t simply switch those feelings off.
The other possibility is that he’s still trying to make sense of it all himself.
For someone who supposedly moved on, Sam spends a lot of time circling the same emotional territory.
That’s what makes Percy and Sam’s dynamic so interesting right now. Neither of them seems to know how they’re supposed to act around each other. They’re both working from ten-year-old assumptions while standing in front of entirely different people.
KINDNESS
I’m not convinced Sam fully understands what his kindness is doing to Percy. Every small gesture gives her hope, and hope is a dangerous thing when you’re still carrying this much history.
Maybe he’s trying to prove something to her.
Maybe he’s trying to prove something to himself.
I’m not sure he knows the difference.
All I do know is that he’s breaking her, and I do not think it bothers him.
Percy offers to help write Sue’s obituary, which honestly feels like the most Percy thing imaginable. She literally writes about loss for a living. If anyone understands how impossible it can feel to summarize a person’s life after they’re gone, it’s her.
Sam thanks her and then delivers the worst sentence of the episode.
Taylor is already writing it.
I would personally like to never hear that name again.
The thing is, it’s such a small moment, but it lands because it reminds Percy—and well me—that Sam’s life didn’t stop when she left. Every time Percy starts slipping back into old rhythms with him, reality shows up to remind her that life went on.
Taylor isn’t just a girlfriend. At this point, she represents everything Percy missed.
The years. The milestones. The ordinary moments that eventually become a life. That makes this hurt for Percy and the viewer.
2012
The flashback to the summer of 2012 gives us one of the clearest looks yet at who Sam and Percy were before everything fell apart.
Every year, they would exchange what they called three updates—three important things that happened while they were apart. It’s a simple tradition, but it tells you a lot about their relationship. They didn’t just spend summers together. They were best friends who stayed invested in each other’s lives.
What stands out isn’t the updates themselves, it’s what is missing.
It’s the friendship bracelet.
Sam notices immediately that Percy isn’t wearing hers, and he’s visibly concerned. Percy quickly explains that she took it off in the car because she wasn’t sure if he would still be wearing his.
It’s such a small moment, but it perfectly captures the insecurity that comes with caring about someone deeply. Especially at such a young age. Percy wasn’t worried about the bracelet – she worried about what it might mean if she’s the only one still holding on.
Sam is wearing his, and his response says more than the bracelet ever could.
He tells her they’ll always be friends. That she never has to worry about looking stupid around him.
Looking back, that’s probably what makes their relationship so hard to get over.
The safety.
Before they were each other’s first love, they were each other’s person. The one they could be honest with. The one they trusted.
Their touchstone.
The flashback is a reminder that what Percy lost wasn’t just a boyfriend. She lost a friendship that had become part of the foundation of her life.
And honestly, that might be the part she’s still grieving most.
CHANTAL
The next morning, Chantal is busy complaining about the motel’s soap and Wi-Fi, which feels like the most Chantal thing imaginable. Jordie is at the door and reminds her that people don’t come to Barry’s Bay to work. They come for the lake.
After Chantelle finally retreats with her extra towels, she asks Percy the question that’s been hanging over everything since the night before: how did things go with Sam?
Percy’s answer is interesting.
She insists she likes Taylor.
The problem isn’t Taylor. The problem is that Percy came back to Barry’s Bay thinking she wanted closure, and it’s becoming increasingly obvious that closure isn’t what she’s looking for at all.
If it were, Sam having a girlfriend would be painful but straightforward. She would accept that life moved on and well… movie on. Instead, Percy seems embarrassed by how much she still cares. Embarrassed that seeing Sam still affects her. Embarrassed that a decade later, some part of her is still measuring her life against what they used to have.
That’s what makes her so easy to sympathize with here.
She’s not trying to steal someone’s boyfriend. She’s not even asking for a second chance.
At this point, she just wants to know that she mattered.
For years, Sam was her person. The person she trusted most. The person she built her future around. Losing a relationship is one thing, but losing someone who was also your closest friend is something else entirely.
I think that’s what Percy is really searching for.
Not romance or even forgiveness.
Just some proof that what they had meant meant as much to Sam as it still does to her.
DELILAH IS EVIL
Hoping to help with the memorial, Percy goes to see Delilah.
Delilah tells her they’re fully staffed, and she doesn’t stop there. Instead, she takes the opportunity to remind Percy that she’s missed years of Sam’s life. Years of Charlie’s life. And, in Delilah’s opinion, she had a strange way of showing how much she cared about Sue.
It’s a brutal thing to say, especially to someone already drowning in guilt. Delilah doesn’t know everything, and she is part of the problem.
What frustrates me about Delilah is that she keeps acting as though she’s the authority on who is allowed to grieve and who isn’t. The authority on who is allowed to love and who isn’t. As if being present for the last ten years gives her ownership over these relationships.
I understand where she’s coming from. Percy left. The people who stayed were the ones who had to deal with the aftermath. But Delilah seems unwilling to acknowledge that Percy has been carrying her own version of that loss the entire time.
Or that Percy wasn’t the only one involved in what happened.
The result is that Percy walks away feeling exactly the way she’s felt since returning to Barry’s Bay: like an outsider in a place that once felt like home.
DELILAHS FIRST ARRIVAL
The flashbacks to 2012 make that dynamic even more interesting.
Back then, Sam’s biggest concern wasn’t whether things would change between him and Percy. It was making sure they didn’t.
One of the sweetest things about their relationship is how much they genuinely liked each other. Before they were a couple, they were best friends. Percy lets him read a short story her teacher is submitting to a contest, and he’s immediately invested. He reads it, and he encourages her. He wants to know what she’s thinking.
There’s an ease between them that makes the present-day distance hurt even more.
Then Delilah arrives.
And honestly, Delilah doesn’t exactly make a stellar first impression. Not in 2012 or in the current day.
In 2012, Charlie was immediately interested in her, which says more about Charlie than it does about Delilah. That boy has never met a bad idea he couldn’t convince himself was a good one.
Meanwhile, Percy spends most of the visit accommodating Delilah, helping her settle in and making space for her. Looking back, it’s hard not to notice how one-sided some of that friendship feels. Percy is constantly giving, while Delilah seems perfectly comfortable taking.
Maybe that’s why their present-day dynamic bothers me so much. They weren’t friends. They were tolerant of each other.
Delilah talks as though Percy abandoned everyone. What she doesn’t seem willing to acknowledge is that Percy spent years showing up for people, too.
Or that every one of them also abandoned Percy.
BROTHERS
Sam and Charlie are barely speaking the same language at this point.
Charlie is focused on logistics. The memorial. The tavern. The endless list of things that still need to get done. Sam, meanwhile, seems completely checked out. Grief has turned him into a ghost in his own life, though I am not sure he’s ever been present. Charlie is running out of patience with it.
When Charlie discovers the broken cooler at the tavern and asks why it wasn’t fixed, Sam’s response says everything about where he is emotionally – he’s a grown man who is acting like a victim to the choices he made. Charlie sees another problem that needs solving. Sam sees one more thing added to a year that was already consumed by chemo appointments, hospice care, and losing his mother.
Neither brother is really arguing about the cooler.
They’re arguing about their lives, their secrets, and well, their grief.
That’s what makes their dynamic so interesting right now. They clearly love each other, but neither of them knows how to help the other carry what’s happened. Every conversation feels one misunderstanding away from becoming a fight.
Then there’s Delilah.
At this point, every time she enters a scene, I find myself bracing for impact. She’s a typhoon of disaster every single time she walks into the screen.
Charlie is trying to figure out how to save the food and keep the tavern running. Delilah is already talking about how things should be done, and she’s not even taken control yet. She feels especially tone-deaf given that Sam is still actively grieving both his mother and isn’t ready to talk about the possibility of losing the tavern itself.
Charlie doesn’t want Sam to hear anything.
When Charlie suggests getting ice, Delilah immediately volunteers Percy for the job.
And maybe that’s what continues to bother me about her. She inserts herself into every situation as though she’s the authority, even when she might be a character with the most to learn.
The further we get into this story, the more it feels like Delilah is trying to control the narrative around Sue’s death, the tavern, the boys, and even Percy. Whether that’s coming from guilt, insecurity, or something else entirely remains to be seen.
But right now?
She’s exhausting, and I would not be sad if she weren’t there.
2012 TRUTH OR DARE
In 2012 or the present day, Delilah continues to be my personal nemesis.
The second she arrives, she’s more interested in playing matchmaker than actually understanding the friendship she’s walking into. She looks at Sam and Percy and immediately assumes they’re a couple waiting to happen.
Percy sees something completely different. At this point, Sam is simply her best friend. The person she tells everything to. She’s not viewing him through the lens Delilah is.
That’s what makes the disconnect so frustrating. Well, that and Delilah not listening and actively thinking her way is the only way.
The truth-or-dare game is a perfect example. What starts as harmless fun quickly turns into Delilah forcing a moment neither of them seems particularly interested in having. When she dares Sam to kiss Percy, the entire vibe of their friendship changes.
What I actually appreciated was Sam’s reaction.
He doesn’t jump at the chance. He doesn’t treat it like a joke. If anything, he seems uncomfortable with the idea of turning their friendship into everyone else’s entertainment. There’s something surprisingly sweet about that.
Charlie, on the other hand, decides to be Charlie.
The whole thing becomes less about whether Sam and Percy like each other and more about a group of teenagers pushing boundaries because they’re teenagers. It’s awkward, messy, and exactly the kind of moment that feels enormous when you’re that age.
What stood out to me wasn’t the almost-kiss itself.
It was how obvious it is that Percy and Sam already have something neither of them knows how to define yet.
Delilah sees chemistry and immediately wants a payoff.
The show is smart enough to understand that friendship comes first.
ICE CREAM DATES
I wasn’t expecting Chantal’s storyline to become one of my favorite parts of the episode, but it did. It was a reminder to take a breath.
She heads to the motel office planning to work, because apparently, even a trip to Barry’s Bay can’t stop her from answering emails. Unfortunately for her, Jordie has different plans. His attitude toward work continues to crack me up. First, he’s trying to take a nap in the office. Then he’s encouraging her to skip her Zoom calls altogether.
Honestly? He’s kind of my hero.
What starts as a joke turns into something more interesting when he convinces her to spend the afternoon with him instead. Chantal looks physically uncomfortable with the idea of stepping away from work, which feels painfully relatable. Some people relax by doing nothing. Others start spiraling the second they aren’t being productive.
The ice cream scene is ridiculous in the best way. Apparently, this is life-changing ice cream, and watching Chantal completely abandon her usual composure over an ice cream cone is funny.
When she casually mentions that the Zoom meeting she skipped was for her own wedding, Jordie’s reaction says it all. He’s surprised because Chantal talks about work far more than she talks about the fact that she’s getting married.
And honestly, I get it. A lot of us are conditioned to see our careers as the most interesting thing about us. We pour so much energy into work that we forget there are entire parts of our lives happening outside of it.
Their conversation about dreams is probably the strongest part of the storyline. He talks about wanting to play professional basketball before an injury changed everything. Now he’s back in the town he thought he’d leave forever, doing the job he never imagined he’d have.
It’s not exactly the life he planned.
The older you get, the more you realize that most people aren’t living the life they imagined at twenty. Plans change, and sometimes life forces you onto a different path entirely.
Chantal seems willing to consider that possibility for herself.
And I think that’s why the storyline works. It’s not really about the ice cream, the motel, or even the flirtation. It’s about a woman who has built her entire identity around being productive, being reminded that there has to be more to life than that.
BRONCO RIDES
Percy gets stuck hauling bags of ice to the tavern, which is naturally the exact moment Sam pulls up in his Bronco.
And yes, I am only human. The Bronco works.
He offers her a ride, asks what’s going on, and Percy immediately responds with the verbal equivalent of “please don’t make me explain my life right now.”
What struck me about the scene isn’t the ride itself. It’s how easy they still are with each other.
So much of their reunion has been weighed down by grief, guilt, and ten years of unanswered questions. Though for the viewer, it is someone, please tell us what she did. But sitting in that truck, they’re briefly able to fall back into something familiar. The smiles come easier. The conversation feels natural.
In that car, they’re acting like the people they used to be instead of the people they’ve become. It’s impossible not to root for them.
Charlie is still fighting for his life against that broken freezer while Delilah continues her campaign to insert herself into every situation. Charlie’s advice to stop poking the bear might be the smartest thing anyone has said to her all episode. Not that she listens
Back in the truck, Percy discovers something that perfectly captures who she and Sam used to be together: a decade-old Hubba Bubba. Which is somehow still sitting in the center console. Percy double-dares him to eat it.
Sam, proving once again that common sense is optional around her, actually does.
It’s also one of the moments in the episode because it reminds us that their relationship wasn’t built entirely on grand romantic feelings. They genuinely liked each other, and they were friends. They were stupid together, and they were free.
The CD they made for Sue’s fortieth birthday pushes that feeling even further. Suddenly, they’re singing in the truck, laughing, and sharing a memory that belongs to both of them.
For a few minutes, the weight of everything that’s happened disappears. Which is exactly why the scene works. They make it work by their walls coming down with each other.
The show spends so much time reminding us what Percy and Sam lost. This is one of the first times it reminds us why they mattered to each other in the first place. We need more of that, but of course, the moment doesn’t last.
Because when they get back to the tavern, they nearly walk in on Charlie and Delilah making out. I would just like Delilah to explain how she found time to police everyone else’s behavior while conducting her own secret relationship.
The hypocrisy is impressive.
Sam wisely leaves for the funeral home. Percy heads off to handle more memorial-related tasks. Charlie and Delilah remain determined to make questionable decisions, as always.
PHOTOS
Watching Percy walk back into Sam and Charlie’s house is quietly devastating.
She’s barely inside before the memories start hitting her. Every room seems to contain a different version of her life. You can see her trying to hold it together, but there’s something about returning to a place that once felt like home that makes it impossible to stay detached.
Then she hears a voice, and unfortunately for Percy, that voice belongs to Taylor.
If running into your ex’s current girlfriend in his childhood home sounds uncomfortable, that’s because it is. Taylor is likeable. Taylor isn’t doing anything wrong. If anything, she’s trying to help. She’s sorting through belongings, cleaning things up, and doing the practical work that tends to follow a loss.
The problem is that Percy is experiencing the house completely differently.
Taylor is looking at boxes, while Percy is looking at memories.
That’s what makes some of their conversations land so awkwardly. Taylor is making casual observations without realizing she’s stepping into territory that means something entirely different to Percy.
The horror movie collection is a perfect example.
Taylor laughs about it because it doesn’t sound like the Sam she knows. Percy, meanwhile, knows exactly where it came from. Horror movies were part of their friendship from the beginning. It’s one of those small details that remind us how much history Percy and Sam share.
Taylor knows Sam’s present. Percy knows his past. Neither version is wrong, but they’re very different.
As Percy digs through old belongings and eventually makes her way toward Sam’s room, the episode keeps reinforcing the same idea: returning home isn’t just about revisiting places. It’s about confronting versions of people that no longer exist.
Percy keeps looking for pieces of the life she left behind.
The problem is that everyone else has been living in the years she missed.
MOMENTS WITH SUE
Back in 2012, Percy and Sam were doing what they always do: arguing over what movie to watch. Percy wants horror. Sam wants Billy Madison. It’s the kind of completely insignificant fight that feels important when you’re sixteen.
Then Percy suddenly realizes something is wrong.
Or, more accurately, something is changing.
She gets her first period. Honestly, what struck me most about the scene wasn’t the milestone itself. It was who Percy turned to.
Sue.
Not her mother. Not a friend. Sue.
There’s something incredibly revealing about that choice because it reinforces what the show has been quietly building all episode: Sue wasn’t just Sam and Charlie’s mom. She became Percy’s safe place, too.
Percy is overwhelmed, embarrassed, emotional, and Sue handles it with the kind of calm confidence that only makes you realize how badly you needed someone to tell you everything is okay.
When Sue comes back into the bathroom, Percy finally admits what is really upsetting her.
She doesn’t like that things are changing.
And honestly, that feels like the thesis statement for Percy’s entire story.
2012 Percy? She’s terrified of growing up.
At twenty-eight, she’s terrified of everything she lost while doing it.
The details are different, but the fear is the same.
What makes the scene work isn’t that Percy gets her first period. It’s that we get another glimpse of the role Sue played in her life. Sue wasn’t just part of the summers at the lake. She helped Percy through the awkward, uncomfortable moments that shape who you become.
Which makes her absence in the present hit even harder.
Sue was someone who spent years making Percy feel safe, loved, and understood; that’s a loss that clearly never stopped hurting.
SHE SHOULDN’T HAVE GONE BACK
Percy heads upstairs looking for old photos and, for a few minutes, being back in the house almost feels comforting. Every room holds a memory. Every corner reminds her of a version of herself she thought she’d lost.
Then she finds the ring.
And suddenly everything changes.
Honestly, I think it’s one of the cruelest moments in the episode because it forces Percy to confront something she’s spent ten years avoiding: Sam’s life didn’t stop when she left.
Up until now, Barry’s Bay has existed mostly through her memories. The people she left behind have felt frozen in time. But an engagement ring is impossible to romanticize away. It represents a future. A real one. One that has nothing to do with her.
Whether Sam bought it for Taylor or not almost doesn’t matter.
What matters is what Percy sees when she opens that box. She sees proof that the life she spent years imagining is gone.
Back at the motel, she completely falls apart.
And honestly, who wouldn’t?
Percy has spent years convincing herself she’s not worthy of anything, but in little ways, she moved on. She’s built a career. She has dated other people. She’s created an entire adult life for herself. But she still held on.
Then one small velvet box reduces all of that progress to rubble.
When she calls her mom, what comes through is the humiliation.
She feels foolish for still caring this much.
Foolish for coming back.
Foolish to discover that ten years later, Sam can still hurt her without even being in the room.
MOM
Meanwhile, her mom reacts the way parents often do when their children are in pain. She wants to fix it. She wishes Percy hadn’t come alone. Wishes she’d been there to soften the landing.
But I actually think Percy needed to do this by herself.
Because nobody else can make peace with Barry’s Bay for her.
Nobody else can untangle what happened with Sam. With Charlie. With the memories and the pain.
Nobody else can figure out why she’s still carrying all of this.
Then comes the knock at the door.
At first, it just feels like another interruption, and then Percy opens it.
Suddenly, that interruption turns to fear.
It’s Sam.
Standing there.
Asking if he can come in. Which feels like a simple question until you realize it’s exactly what Percy has been unable to do for ten years.
She’s never let him back in.
Not into her life or her memories. Not into the version of the story she’s been telling herself about what happened.
And when she says yes, it feels like the episode finally stops circling the wound and prepares to look directly at it.
OTHER THOUGHTS
- Jordie giving Delilah a reality check is what we all needed.
- Also, Delilah is gross
- Did I mention I hate Delilah
- Charlie, you continue to make bad choices
- We need to remember Percy lost a lot too when she left
- Percy wasn’t the only one with mistakes
- Delilah, if things aren’t going well, get a divorce, don’t cheat
