Please Stay for Me (The Brotherhood Series)

by M. W. McKinley

  "Isn't this a lovely sight?" He says as a greeting.

  "Likewise," Katherine says. Lei’s shirt is off and tucked in the side of his athletic shorts. "I thought you were more of a swimmer?"

  I’ve learned Lei is the swimmer, Liam is the runner, Eric is the weightlifter, and Rob thinks they’re all crazy, but he obviously has an amazing metabolism.

  "The University pool is closed today for cleaning, and I was feeling restless. What are you two up to?"

  Katherine motions to my camera. "Avery lost track of time again, so I had to make sure someone fed her."

  "What a considerate friend," he teases as he sits down in front of us.

  "Do you hear that, Avery?" Katherine says as she sits up and crosses her arms over her knees.

  I roll my eyes while sitting up as well. "You’re perfection itself, Katherine."

  She smiles brightly at me completely ignoring the sarcasm in my tone. "So, Lei. I saw you walking across campus with Paul the other day."

  He scratches the side of his neck avoiding her gaze but smiling all the same. "I'm surprised you didn't come interrogate him."

  "Believe me, I thought about it after he stood you up for dinner. Did he at least have a good excuse?"

  He just shrugs. "I'm not worried about it. I don't think it's going anywhere."

  "You already know that?" I ask, surprised.

  Lei's gaze meets mine. "I'm not great at the casual-dating thing. I tend to go all in, which usually doesn't end well for me. I guess you can say I've gotten better at the screening process. Paul’s just looking for casual."

  "You and Liam must have that in common," I say.

  Lei immediately shakes his head. "Liam is usually completely casual when he dates. You are the first girl we've seen him go after this way."

  "Which is insane considering he's known from the beginning I'm just here for the summer," I argue.

  Katherine starts to speak, and I cut her off. "I swear to the pastry gods that if you say fate, destiny, or any other synonym, I will never talk to you again."

  She holds her hands up in mock surrender.

  Lei smiles. "All I can say is Liam must think you're worth it." Then, he gives me a more serious look. "And Liam deserves to be with someone who thinks he's worth it."

  All I can do is nod in agreement. Liam does deserve to be with someone who feels the same as him. He definitely deserves to be with someone who can at least figure out how they feel in the first place. I can’t give him any of those things right now, but I can’t walk away from him either.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Liam

  "You've been scarce lately." Mum has her back to me as she checks the timer. The smell of yeasty bread rising in a pan fills the kitchen. When I look around, I can tell Dad cooked last night since the sink is full of pots. He always uses twice the number of pots than Mum does to make the same meal.

  "Just busy with the band and things." I read the most recent text from Avery. She usually texts me her favourite photograph of the day. Today it’s a brilliant panoramic view of the Oxford skyline.

  When I look up, I realize Mum’s staring at me. "What?" I say innocently.

  "I know when you're busy with the band. So, I'm guessing these things involve whatever person is making you smile that way," she says while pointing at my phone.

  I show her the picture. "There may be a girl. Her name is Avery."

  "And she's a photographer I see.”

  "She did our new band photos you complemented. She's American."

  Mum keeps scrolling through my pictures. "When do I get to meet her?"

  "Meet who?" Dad says as he enters the kitchen. His brown hair is sticking up in all directions, and he’s carrying Beethoven like a precious newborn baby.

  Beethoven gives us both an uninterested glance before impatiently moving around in Dad's arms.

  "The girl Liam is seeing," Mum replies.

  Dad’s still paying attention to the cat as he puts him on the counter in order to open the fridge. He finally looks my way. "Did you run here?" he asks.

  I nod. "Can I have my phone back now?"

  Beethoven begins meowing insistently until Dad puts a plate with bits of beef on it in front of him.

  "Isn't he supposed to be on a diet?" Beethoven glares at me before returning to his breakfast.

  "I'm not reading your messages. I'm just looking at the photos. Is this Avery?" Mum flashes the phone in my direction.

  "Yes. That was before a show at Eddie's."

  Dad moves around the kitchen island and peers at my phone. "You said she's American. Is she studying abroad?"

  I nod again and then blurt out, "I'm in love with her."

  Mum and Dad both freeze, then look at me. Beethoven even looks up from his meal.

  "What?" Mum asks.

  "She's leaving at the end of the summer, and I'm completely in love with her. I mean, I've never been in love before, but I'm guessing that's what this incredible, yet horrifying, feeling is." I look at them for some sort of encouragement or words of wisdom because I’m losing my mind over this girl.

  They’re both quiet a moment before Dad says, "Well, that's unfortunate."

  Mum smacks him on the chest.

  Beethoven meows since he always has to be a part of the conversation.

  "There's more," I say.

  "How can there be more?" Dad replies.

  "You already met her. Well, maybe not met her, but you've seen her before."

  Mum inspects the picture again. "Have we?"

  "Years ago, in New York City, when she put money in my case at Lincoln Center."

  "Blimey," Mum says quietly while still holding my phone.

  "That pretty much sums it up. I'm in love with her, and there’s no way it can work out."

  "I don't know about that. Just look at every sappy movie and book ever created," Dad squeezes my shoulder before moving back towards the fridge.

  I glare at the back of his head. "I'm talking about the real world here. We live an ocean apart."

  Dad turns back towards me with orange juice in his hand. "Nah, just a pond." He winks.

  "We're young. She'll meet someone else," I argue.

  "I'm going to agree with your father here. If it's meant to be . . . "

  Dad points a finger to his chest. "See, I know things."

  “So, your advice is just that if it's meant to be, it will be?"

  "Hey, it's excellent advice," Dad says proudly. "Just ask Doris Day."

  I drop my head into my hands dramatically. A moment later, I feel silky fur aggressively rub against my arm. I hear the stack of mail crinkle as Beethoven plops down.

  When I look up, he’s leisurely sprawled out in front of me licking his paw. "What about you? I know Dad can do no wrong in your eyes, but surely you've got better advice?"

  Beethoven stops to look at me but then returns to his bath.

  "Does she know about Juilliard?" Mum asks as she sets my phone down.

  "There's nothing to know about Juilliard," I argue.

  "There would be if you apply.” Dad pours three glasses of orange juice.

  I take the offered glass. "Beethoven would miss me too much." Although, the look Beethoven gives me isn’t very convincing.

  Dad cuts right through my deflection. "You mean we would miss you too much."

  "Liam, we've talked about this. You can't stay here just for us. We'll be your parents no matter where you are in the world," Mum says as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

  "It's legal and everything. Just look at the last name on your passport. We own you, son," Dad adds playfully.

  I roll my eyes. "Are you sure it's not the other way around?"

  He sets his glass down, and his tone turns serious. "One hundred percent from the moment we met you. I still think of your notebook sometimes.”

  My brows knit together. “What notebook?”

  “The one with all the stars.”

  Every night, I used to take out a s
mall notebook I kept under my bed and draw another star next to the previous one. One star for every week Mum and Dad kept me. Two years I had stayed in the same home with the same foster parents. I wanted it to be permanent more than I’d ever wanted anything.

  I was worried they didn't feel the same way, though. “I still remember how scared I was the day you showed me the adoption papers,” I admit.

  Mum takes a sip of orange juice and then says, “I can’t believe you thought we were kicking you out.”

  I shrug. “No one had ever asked me to stay, and I was worried you only kept me because we had music in common.” It was the first time I can remember not wanting to be known as a violinist.

  Mum sets down her glass, and her smile is warm. “Well, we were originally looking to adopt a child age three or younger. But when the social worker described you, we both just got this feeling we needed to meet you. She never mentioned music, and we didn’t even hear you play the violin for the first several weeks before you moved in. And we were already hooked by then.”

  When Dad had asked me to join them in the garden one day, I was convinced I was being transferred to another foster home. I tried to think of anything I might have done wrong, but nothing came to mind. I started to panic as I followed him through the house. I couldn't say goodbye to my own bed, my own room, and to the two people who had finally given me a family.

  There were papers sitting on the patio table. Papers were never a good sign. I suddenly had trouble breathing as I sat down in between them. I knew this had all been too good to be true. I kept telling myself not to get too comfortable or too attached.

  I thought maybe I could find a way to make it on my own instead of facing another foster home. I could legally work at thirteen years old if it wasn't during school hours.

  When Mum set the stack of papers in front of me, I couldn't make out the words yet. My eyes were filled with unshed tears that I tried desperately to control. If they were going to send me back to social services, I didn't want them to see me cry over it.

  After I blinked away the tears, I saw the word adoption stand out among all the others at the top of the page. I read it again—and then one more time.

  A sob escaped from my lips before my hand could cover my mouth. Tears ran down my face and completely blurred my vision before two pairs of arms wrapped around me. My parents. I sank into their embrace and cried so hard I could barely catch my breath.

  “That was the first time you called us Mum and Dad,” Mum says.

  “But I’d been calling you Mum and Dad in my head much longer.”

  Dad sets down his empty glass. “Truly?”

  I nod. “Since before New York.”

  Dad’s eyes are glassy as he reaches across the counter and puts his hand over mine.

  When the adoption was finalized, we burned that notebook of stars together. I remember watching as the fire quickly engulfed the fragile pages. I no longer had to count my time with Mum and Dad by weeks, days, or even hours because we had the rest of our lives together.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Avery

  Liam and I are both sitting cross-legged on his sofa side by side with our laptops open. His house is empty, and classical music plays softly in the background. We’re supposed to be studying, but I’m completely distracted by my email inbox. The number of times my cursor has hovered over Dad's email is countless. Every time I check my email, his blank subject line catches my eye. It’s the worst kind of temptation.

  I feel Liam's gaze on me. "I know what you're thinking."

  "Is that so?" He affectionately rubs my knee.

  "I should just read it, already." I move my finger over the touchpad aggressively making the cursor dance across the screen.

  "Like I said, there's no rush." He goes back to the essay he’s working on but keeps his hand on my knee.

  I bite my lip and then run my fingers through my hair once. "Maybe it's time." After all, the amount of time I spend thinking about his unopened email is exhausting, and I hate the power it holds over me.

  Liam immediately sets his laptop aside and turns towards me. "You sure?"

  I close my eyes briefly while nodding. "But I can't do it while you're looking at me."

  "I can go in my room and give you space," he offers.

  I shake my head. "No, I want you here, but maybe just pretend to study.”

  He reaches over and kisses me softly before grabbing his laptop again. The butterflies I always feel when he touches me come alive and distract me for a blissful moment.

  I let out a slow breath as I move the cursor back to Dad's name. I focus on the empty subject line one more time before clicking on his email.

  To: avery.miller@gmail.com

  From: william@healthspire.net

  Subject: (none)

  Date: June 17, 2020

  Darling Avery,

  I made a mistake. No, not just a mistake. I made an unforgivable mistake. There is no excuse that could change what I did or rather what I did not do.

  When Meme came to visit and threw the word neglect at me, and correctly so, I was ashamed. I knew she had every right to take you away.

  After your mother died, it was like I was blind and deaf to the rest of the world. When you read this, I know you'll think I was blind and deaf to you, too, but I knew you were right there with me the whole time. I knew you were grieving just as much as I was, but I couldn't reach out to you. I couldn't be what you needed.

  I couldn't save your mother even though I'm trained to heal people, and I couldn't comfort my own daughter even though I was all she had left. We promised we would take turns being there for each other, and I broke that promise repeatedly.

  It took a long time for me to come out of my grief and realize what happened. The first time we spoke on the phone, you sounded happy. It made me think maybe Meme was a better parent to you. Maybe she could give you things I couldn’t. The more time that passed, the more I convinced myself you were where you needed to be.

  I've realized too late how wrong that all sounds. You just needed me like I've needed you these past few years. If I could turn back time, I would have brought you back home, and we would have figured out our new life together, just the two of us. All I can say now is how completely sorry I am for never showing up on Meme's doorstep to bring you home.

  I know you're in Oxford right now, and I don't want to affect your trip. Maybe when you get back, we can talk. And I mean, really talk.

  The day you were born, I thought my heart would burst out of my chest with the love I felt for you. And not one day has gone by where I've loved you any less than that day.

  Love, Dad

  My eyes travel over his email two more times before I come back to reality. I feel . . . angry. As I continue absorbing his words, that anger turns into something even stronger. How dare he tell me exactly what I need to hear three years too late!

  I can feel Liam's concern as if it’s another person joining us on the couch. I pass him my laptop as I get up and walk towards the large bay window that overlooks the street in front of his house.

  Less than a minute goes by before I hear him come up behind me. His arms wrap around me, and his comforting scent helps calm me. A little.

  "How are you feeling?" He kisses my shoulder.

  "It's too late," I reply. "He's too late."

  Liam’s quiet a long moment before saying, "As someone adopted at thirteen, I'd have to say it's never too late."

  My shoulders tense, and I break away from his embrace. I do not want to feel guilty over my reaction to Dad's email.

  "Avery." He slowly turns me around to face him. "I'm not trying to minimize how you feel right now. Even if we see things differently, I'm still here for you."

  I nod but cross my arms over my chest.

  Liam gently takes my wrists in his hands forcing me to uncross my arms. He drapes them over his shoulders as if we’re about to dance. He takes his phone from his back pocket to look at the screen for a few s
econds. The classical music is replaced with the opening notes of “Whatever Will Be, Will Be.” Liam takes one of my hands in his and leads us around the living room in a slow dance.

  "What made you pick this song?" I ask.

  He slowly spins me around. "Dad mentioned it the other day, and it's been on my mind. Although, he goes for the original Doris Day production. I'm more of a Sly & the Family Stone bloke."

  Liam pulls me back into his arms and sings along with the music. “The future’s not ours, to see. Que sera, sera. What will be, will be.” If only that were true. Now that I’ve read Dad's email, I can’t just let it be. It feels as if I have to make some sort of decision. I don’t have to make that decision tonight, though. Liam does his very best to distract me as we continue to dance song after song.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Avery

  When I open my door, Emily is the first face I see. "Surprise!" She throws little pieces of paper in the air as confetti. Behind her stand Liam, Rob, and Lei. I can hear Eric calling Katherine's name and banging on the next door over.

  I laugh. "You know we're going to have to clean this up."

  Emily pulls some confetti out of my hair. "Still worth it." She begins shuffling the paper into my room with her shoes. "Time to go!"

  "Go where?" I ask as I grab my purse off the floor and close the door behind me.

  "It's a surprise! I thought all of us could use a proper day of fun,” she answers.

  Liam takes my hand as we walk down the hall. "It's better just to go with it."

  "I've already figured that out." I shake more confetti out of my hair with my free hand.

  As we walk towards the surprise location, Rob tells everyone a story about Lei’s grandmother hitting on the landscaper. "I swear to you, she was inviting him inside for tea . . . in her dressing gown.”

  "That doesn’t mean she was hitting on him, Rob. She was probably just being polite,” Lei argues.