by Gina Azzi
"Why?"
"I'm going to make you dinner."
She turns back to me, surprised. "What? You don't have to do that. You just played an insane game; if anyone is going to cook, it should be me."
I slide the gearstick into park and kill the engine. "Come on. Carter and Denver aren't home, and Daisy's sleeping at a friend's house."
She watches me quietly, a shy smile playing around the edges of her mouth as she mulls this over. Coming to a decision, her face suddenly transforms with resolve, and she squares her shoulders and opens the SUV door.
I bite back a laugh. Evie is the cutest. As tough as a rattlesnake, she always calls me on my shit and lets me know exactly what she's thinking. Unless it's about sex. Then she is all shy and sweet.
I walk next to her up the walkway to my house. It's embarrassing really, the growth of the lawn, the disheveled mulch hugging dying shrubbery. My brothers and I should do a better job at maintaining the place, especially for Daisy. I'm going to talk to them about that.
I unlock the door and push it open as Evie stills next to me.
"Jax." She suddenly sounds uncertain, and I know her mind has jumped to sex. We’ve only done it a few times and while it’s been the most amazing experience I’ve ever had with a girl, Evie is still shy about it.
"Turn your mind off, Maywood. I'm going to make you the best sandwich in the history of life."
"The history of life?"
"I swear it. You've never had a sandwich like this." I wait for her to cross the threshold before entering behind her and closing the door.
Leading her to the kitchen, she takes a seat at the island while I pull random items out of the refrigerator. "Give me fifteen, yeah?"
"Sure." She flips through a random magazine that one of my brothers must have left lying around. Glancing over, I'm relieved its Motorcycle World and not Playboy. Although, some of the girls could double in both.
I move quickly, efficiently, concocting one of my all-time favorite things to eat.
Sliding a dish before Evie, she glances up, her eyes glowing and her cheeks flushed. "I can't believe you made me dinner."
"Well, I guess we shouldn't really label it as dinner. It's more of the best late-night snack."
"In the history of life."
"Take a bite." I watch her face as she picks up the grilled sandwich and bites into it. She chews thoughtfully, her brows shooting up in surprise before dipping in confusion.
"Are there potato chips on this?" she asks.
I nod. "It's awesome, isn't it?"
"What, exactly, is on this sandwich?"
"I can't tell you all my secrets off the bat, Maywood. You'd never stick around."
“True,” she agrees, taking another bite. "It's pretty good. Thank you."
"I don't just share this with anyone, you know?"
"I'm honored," she says, sincerely.
I bite into my own sandwich, closing my eyes and groaning. Dropping my head back, I remember all the times my mom made this exact sandwich for Denver, Carter, and me when we were kids. Back when Daisy was a baby. She always added chips for "an extra special crunch." Sometimes, on random holidays like Valentine's or the first day of Spring, she'd use heart or flower-shaped cookie cutters to make our sandwiches into shapes.
Even though I don't tell Evie any of this, her eyes watch me carefully when I finally open mine and meet her gaze. Her smile is soft, her face almost tender. That's the thing with her; I don't have to say anything at all, and yet she always knows.
16
Evie
Blue skies and warm sunshine greets me as I roll up my blinds on Saturday morning. The day is beautiful. Picture perfect in a way that casts a happy glow on everything that's about to come. Smiling to myself, I feel a charge, a change in my own energy.
I scoot to the edge of my bed and stuff my feet into slippers as I tug on a robe and head to the kitchen. I'm sure Graham already brewed a fresh pot of coffee. That's hands-down one of the best things about him living with me. The little things, like there being mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer and another set of keys in the dish on the hallway console, are comforting in a way I never expected.
"I was about to check that you're still breathing," my brother greets me as I enter the kitchen, making a beeline straight for the coffee pot and filling the mug he left out for me.
"Still here."
"I forgot how cranky you can be in the morning."
"Not cranky." I close my eyes, inhaling the incredible aroma that is coffee, and take a long sip.
"Thank God you didn't end up at West Point. Early mornings really aren't for you."
Swallowing past the lump in my throat that always manages to lodge there at the mention of the military academy, I take a seat at the kitchen table.
"What're you up to today?" Graham asks, peering at me over the top of his newspaper, his left leg crossed casually over his right knee. He looks like such an adult.
"Hiking."
“Hiking?”
"With Jax," I add, just to watch his eyebrows jump into his hairline in surprise.
"You're kidding?" He lowers the newspaper until it rests against the table's edge.
"Nope. He asked me to go hiking." I lean forward, resting my forearms against the edge of the table and wrapping my hands around my mug. "Crazy, right? First the movies and now... a hike." I wrinkle my nose.
"He's trying to win you back." Graham states matter-of-factly, holding up a hand to stop the protests that are about to shoot out of my mouth. "And he's being smart about it. Got to give him credit for that. He's making sure you’re comfortable, pulling you back into his orbit." Graham's eyebrows dip down now, furrowing over his nose in thought. "I should really take tips from him."
"Having trouble in paradise?"
"Of course not. Just, well, Jax is really good at what he does."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. He's going about this for your benefit, not his own. He's doing what puts you at ease, biding his time, making sure you're on the same page as him before he moves forward. It's smart. And it means he's serious." He nods to himself as if this settles it, and resumes reading about the current events unfolding in Yemen.
"You're my brother. You're supposed to be on my side. He broke my heart once, you know."
"I'm always on your side, Noodle. And I remember. At the time, I wanted to slug him. But now,” he regards me sympathetically, “it’s like your becoming more of yourself again. More confident, less guarded. And I know it’s got something to do with him so as long as I’m here, I’m on Team Jax.” He looks back at his newspaper and I let the issue drop.
I move to stand up when Graham’s voice stops me. “Another woman stepped forward.”
“Huh?”
He turns the newspaper toward me, pointing at a headline halfway down the page. “Another woman stepped forward against that famous actor. The one in all those action movies. These fucking men and their exploitation of women.” He shakes his head, disgusted as the words “sexual assault” jump out at me from the page.
“I thought it was a director.”
“That’s another case.”
“Oh.”
Graham watches me closely. “Nothing else to say on the issue? I thought this would have you fuming.”
I swallow thickly, shrugging, as I push away from the table. Digging around the pantry for a bag of potato chips, I busy myself with sandwich prep. Throughout the process, my mind mulls over the headline, Graham’s words, and the empathetic look he gave me.
At eleven on the dot, a knock sounds on the front door. Graham looks up eagerly from his perch on the couch, his laptop open on the coffee table.
"I'll get it." He stands.
Rolling my eyes at him, I disappear back into my bedroom to grab my sunscreen and sunglasses. Jesus, you'd think my brother was the one going on the date, er, hike.
I hear Jax and Graham speaking in the hallway, their voices a cadence of familiarity and the p
ast. Shaking my head, I drop the items I need into a small backpack and grab our lunch from the kitchen before meeting them near the front door.
"Morning sunshine." Jax calls out as I walk closer.
"I've been up for hours."
"She just woke up about fifty minutes ago," my sweet brother clarifies.
I scowl at him, and they both laugh at my expense. The joys of having an older brother.
"You ready?" I ask, switching my glare to Jax. Gah! My hard-ass attitude disintegrates the second I look at him. Dressed in a pair of basketball shorts and a tight grey T-shirt, his muscles are on full display, the hardness of his abs evident. I could fall into his arms and swoon. He's wearing a baseball hat, the stubble on his cheeks and chin several days old, and a pair of sunglasses are clutched in his left hand. I swallow hard, dropping my eyes to the floor instead.
"All set. Good seeing you, man. Let's grab a beer while you're home. Catch up, shoot the shit." Jax claps a hand on Graham's shoulder as my brother nods. Enthusiastically, I might add.
"See you later, Graham." I press a quick kiss to his cheek as I pass.
He pats me on the head, tugging on one of the pigtail braids I'm sporting. "Make sure you wear sunblock so you don't burn."
My God. He really is an adult.
The door closes behind me, and I breathe in the day.
Jax and I are going hiking.
We head toward Sensor's Peak, the twists and curves of the road sharpening the higher we drive. I flip the radio to a country station I like and watch as Jax shoots me some side eye.
"Country?"
"We do live in the south."
"You used to like Pop."
"I used to like a lot of things."
He taps a beat out on the steering wheel, the heel of his hand hitting the top of the wheel every few seconds. Angling his head toward me, he asks, “Do you still like reality TV?”
Of course he brings up the one thing the Kane brothers used to tease me about relentlessly.
“I’m going to take your silence as an affirmative.” He decides after a stretch of silence.
“Reality TV is reality.”
Jax groans, “You still have the same argument? It’s all scripted!”
I place my hands over my ears to tune him out and he laughs, trying to tug my hand away so I’ll listen to him blabber on about how reality TV is warping the minds of today’s youth.
“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. I bet you’ve never watched one episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians or any of The Real Housewives shows.” I talk over him, my voice growing louder.
“You’d be correct.”
“Yeah, well, you’re missing out.”
He shakes his head, reaching over to thread his fingers through mine. Our clasped hands rest against my bare thigh, my shorts having ridden up when I sat in the SUV. His skin is warm against my own and I find the gesture intimate and sweet. Still, the sight of his hand, a large, male hand against the creaminess of my bare skin sends a shiver down my spine, my heart rate ticking up. He squeezes my hand lightly and I turn toward the window so he won’t know how something so small affects me.
“If you tell him I told you, I’ll deny it, but I’m pretty sure Denver has seen a few reality TV shows while in lock up.”
My head whips toward his. “No way.”
Jax nods, biting his lower lip. “Ah fuck it, just ask him about it. His reaction will be worth his being pissed at me.”
“Done.”
A comfortable silence stretches between us as I hum along to the song on the radio, Jax’s hand still clenched in mine. The longer we sit like this, the more I adjust to his hand in my lap and stop worrying about it and start to enjoy the pressure of his fingers against my leg.
He doesn’t let go until we’re parking, staring at the expanse of greenery and hiking trails before us.
17
Jax
It's hot as a motherfucker, and I'm briefly reminded of a stint I had in the Sahara Desert, across the plains of Sudan, which is a gross exaggeration, but it floods my mind nonetheless. The heat, the itchy swarm of mosquitos, the smell of sulfur, the sound of Ethan's wiseass laugh barking out as he cracks jokes only he finds amusing. It wraps around me like a tornado, sweeping my mind up in its powerful rotation before dropping me just as quickly at the sound of Evie's voice.
"You all right?" The feel of her fingers on my arm, pressing lightly, reminds me that I'm back home. Thousands of miles away from Sudan. Away from Ethan.
"Yeah, sorry." I shrug off her touch, my skin suddenly clammy in a way that has nothing to do with the heat.
She steps back, her lips tightening, her eyes trained over my shoulder.
Damn it. I close my eyes and huff out a breath, clearing my mind and reminding myself that I need to go easy on Evie. She's too affected by discord. Whereas years ago she would have just called me out and told me to cut the shit and spill the beans, this time she looks like she's trying not to cry at my brush off. Her chin quivers as her fingers curl into her hands.
"I get flashbacks," I blurt it out. "Sometimes. I mean, sometimes they’re like nightmares and other times just memories. Not necessarily good or bad, they just are. And it throws me for a second."
Her eyes find mine again, deep blue swelling with compassion and understanding that I grasp onto, relief filling me that she's at least looking at me again.
"Do you have them a lot?" She peers at me curiously.
"It depends."
"On?"
"The environment, associations to past memories, that kind of thing."
"What sparked this one?"
"The heat." I admit, tugging on the back of my neck, my hand slipping with the sweat that's gathered there and seeping into the collar of my crewneck. "I don’t remember it being this hot in April. It's hot as balls."
She snorts at my expression, and I grin at her.
"I was remembering being stuck in the freaking Sahara of all places."
"Whereabouts?" She begins walking again, and I fall in stride beside her.
"Sudan."
"Darfur?"
“Yeah.”
"What happened?"
"Not much. I was just remembering how hot it was, the mosquitos were a bitch, and my friend." I swallow, my throat tight, remembering Ethan, remembering how I told Evie about Ethan, "Ethan just wouldn't stop cracking all these lame ass jokes. They were so bad, they were borderline funny, except none of us understood them."
Evie remains silent, her pace matching mine. Her breathing deepens as the hill grows steeper, but she doesn't say anything, which encourages me to continue.
"He was always joking around. Trying to be funny. Trying to diffuse whatever tension we were all dealing with through humor. Most of the time, he was pretty good at it, too. A real prankster."
"He sounds special," Evie says, sweat pouring down her neck. Soft tendrils of her hair curl around her ears.
"He was the best. Stupidly loyal. Would do anything for any of the guys."
"How’re Amy and Annabelle getting on?"
A swell of pride chokes me as I think of Amy and her sweet baby girl. I realize Evie remembers everything I told her about them. "Amy's having a tough time, obviously. And a newborn with colic is probably compounding it."
"What do you know about colic?"
"Daisy had it."
Evie grins but her amusement quickly morphs into sadness. "What will she do now?"
"Amy?"
"Yeah."
"She's planning on moving to Minnesota to be closer to her parents and sister. She wants to raise Annabelle with a sense of family, and having her family around her will be a good support system for them."
"That makes sense."
"Yep. I've gotta call her actually. I’ve got a buddy relocating to Florida from Michigan. Instead of him renting a U-Haul, I’m going to see if he’ll drive down Ethan’s truck. Denver and I want to sort out some things on it and then sell it for Amy so she knows she’s
getting a decent price for it.”
"That's nice of you."
"Least I can do."
"Do you honestly think you could have saved him?"
"No." Fuck if that's not hard to admit, but the truth is I wouldn't have been able to save him. No one would. The damage was too devastating. Shot through the chest four times. Blood everywhere. Hot and sticky and pulsing with life until he was gone.
"But you feel guilty," she says it as a statement. She says it as if she knows.
"Every goddamn day."
We walk in silence for nearly a mile. The beauty of the trail surrounds us. The forested canopy provides stretches of shade from filtered sunlight. A light trickle of water rushes over rocks and pools in a bank, filling our ears. Quiet settles between us, and it's comfortable, a constant I once had but lost. The scenery is soothing. The moment is calming.
And Evie's presence is like a salve to my open wounds. It's healing.
"You remembered the chips." My voice holds a hint of wonder as I bite into my sandwich, the extra crunch like a punch in the chest, reminding me of high school, Evie, Mom, and my brothers.
"Yeah." She tugs her fingers through her hair, dividing it into three parts and quickly re-braiding it.
"You look younger like that."
"Gee, thanks."
I kick lightly against her sneaker. "You know what I mean. Thank you. For lunch." I hold up my sandwich before taking another gigantic bite. I'm hungry and for some reason, food, even something as simple as a sandwich, always tastes better when someone else makes it for you.
"You’re welcome. I know it's not the best in the history of life or anything, but I'm glad you like it. I made you two." She tosses me another one.
I shoot her a knowing glance at the reference as I catch the sandwich. Unwrapping the aluminum foil, I’m pleased when more potato chips fall from the roll. "You better watch out, or I'll ask you to marry me."
She rolls her eyes but she's grinning. "If a sandwich is all it takes, you've lowered your standards."