by Jay McLean
I gripped the edge of the sink and let my head fall forward. “Shit.”
“It’s probably not your fault, Blake.”
“To be honest, I still don’t really know what happened. I thought things were going well—and then she kind of just shut down.”
It was silent for a moment before Mary finally sighed. “How long have you known Chloe?”
“Not long.” I raised my head and stared out the window above the sink. It was the first time I’d noticed that they had a backyard. But it was overgrown. Unusable.
“So you haven’t known her long . . . but she means something to you, right? I mean that’s why you’re here?” It came out as a question, but she wasn’t asking. Not really. “Chloe—she’s built walls around herself—ones that it took Dean and me years to break past. It hasn’t been easy. But you, Blake . . . I don’t know . . .”
I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed quiet. She continued, “She’s never invited anyone to the house before. It was kind of a big deal that you were here.”
I turned to her now, surprise clear on my face.
She nodded. “Yeah. You’re her first real friend. That’s what I’m assuming you are—friends?”
It was my turn to nod.
“Good. That’s good . . .” I could see the contemplation on her face; she was planning her next words carefully. “Chloe’s mom died when she was five. Breast cancer.”
Even though I knew that her mom had passed, I didn’t know how. I tensed and waited for the pounding in my chest to settle.
“When her mom passed away, she went to live with her Aunt Tilly. They were twins, her mom and her aunt. Her dad was never around. He bailed after finding out about the pregnancy. Tilly didn’t have kids of her own, so it was perfect . . . for a while. But then a few years later, she passed away, too. Same disease.”
I swallowed down the lump in my throat as I tried to picture Chloe. Her life. Everything that she had had to go through.
“So by the time she came to live with us, death was no stranger to her. After a couple of years, neither was cancer. She got obsessed. Fixated with it. She spent all her time reading books, searching online, learning everything possible about it.” She stopped to clear her throat; her voice came out shaky as she added, “She was withdrawn, not just from us but from the other kids here and at school. Then one day, she came home with a huge smile on her face. Something in her switched over that day. She announced to Dean and me during dinner that night that she was over it. She said that she was going to live her life to the fullest, take in the world and everything it had to offer. We thought it was great.” She sniffed and wiped the tears that were falling too fast. “But then she said that when she died of cancer, she didn’t want to leave anyone behind. She actually said, ‘You are not allowed to love me. No one can.’”
I turned and leaned against the counter behind me. I needed something to hold me up.
“Can you imagine, Blake? She couldn’t have been more than eleven at the time. And she’d decided that cancer was her future. And the saddest part is that she didn’t let that part ruin her. She was scared for the people around her.”
I rubbed my eyes, trying to hide the fact that I was close to tears. Then I cleared my throat. “So that’s why she’s . . .”
“Invisible?” Mary nodded slowly. “She’s good at what she set out to do . . . experiencing the world and all that. She never takes anything for granted. But she does it alone, and it’s sad, because she’s so easy to love.”
I nodded. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because I knew she was right, that falling in love with Chloe would be effortless.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed. “I’m a mess. I just love her. And I want the best for her. So if that’s having you in her life, I’m going to support you, and you’ll always be welcome here. But if you cause her pain, if you’re the reason she’s in her room crying at night, then I guess . . .” She trailed off. She didn’t need to finish her sentence. I knew what she meant.
“Anyway . . .” She perked up and inhaled deeply. “Let’s see who ends up the champion of basketskate!”
“Skateball,” I said and attempted a smile.
The house was empty when I got home, which didn’t surprise me. Neither did the army-issued footlocker sitting in the middle of my bed.
See, you’d think that my dad—being as proud as he was—would want to brag about his army days. That he would want to tell me stories about his time in Panama and the Gulf War. But he didn’t. He didn’t speak about it at all. Not to me and not to his small circle of friends. If he talked to other vets, I didn’t know about it. This was his way of talking to me. Maybe not to me as much as at me.
Normally, I’d just push it aside. Throw it under my bed and deal with it another day.
But today wasn’t like other days. After hanging out with Dean and the kids, something in me had switched. My decision about my future had always been about what I wanted versus what I thought I had to do. Now? I had no idea what I wanted.
“Fuck it,” I said under my breath, and sat on the edge of the bed, dragging the footlocker over so it was next to me. I unhinged the latch and lifted the heavy metal lid. His dress blues were folded perfectly at the bottom, his Bronze Star Medal still attached. He had never told me how he’d earned it, but then again, I’d never asked. On top of all of that was a letter-size envelope with the U.S. Army logo on the corner and a sticky note attached. September 30—MEPS, was all it said.
MEPS—Military Entrance Processing Station.
September 30—enlistment day.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Blake
I knocked on Chloe’s door. Mary answered and tried to contain her smile. “Blake, what are you doing here?”
All of a sudden, I panicked. It had seemed like the greatest idea in the world when I had thought of it. Now, though, I kind of felt like an ass. “I’m here to clean up your backyard.”
“What?” She let out a disbelieving laugh, just as the street filled with cars. The sound of doors opening and closing and the familiar ruckus of a group of teenage boys filled the otherwise quiet neighborhood.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and shrugged. “Well, me and the rest of my team . . . and the JV team.”
Her eyes widened as they all started to walk up her driveway. “What kind of teenage boy wants to spend his Sunday weeding a neglected yard?”
“A teenage boy whose coach ordered them to. Plus, it’s for extra credit.” I waited for her to give me the go-ahead, but she didn’t. Suddenly, I was nervous as fuck. Maybe I’d overstepped my boundaries. “I just thought the kids would like to have some extra space to play . . . It was stupid. I’m sorry.”
I turned to leave but she gripped my shirt. “No way,” she said. “You don’t get out of it that easy. Come in!”
My eyes kept wondering around, looking for any sign of Chloe. I didn’t want to ask Mary, because I wanted her to believe I wasn’t there for Chloe. My reasons for being there were genuine, but that didn’t mean that seeing her wouldn’t have been a bonus. We still worked together, but it hadn’t been the same since that night in her room. I still had no idea what had really happened, but I didn’t want to push it. I was more than happy with a little Chloe rather than no Chloe at all.
The boys and I worked in the yard for an hour before the sun started baking us. I’d sent out a few of the guys to get some drinks and ice and coolers, but I was dying. I didn’t want to disturb the family too much, so I quietly walked in through the back door to get a drink. Mary was already there, making a pitcher of iced tea. She smiled when she saw me. “Wash up. I’ll pour you a fresh glass.”
“You’re my hero,” I joked, looking around again.
“She’s up in her room. Hasn’t been down yet.”
I nodded; I was a little worried about her reaction to me being there.
Mary handed me the cold iced tea just as I turned the tap off. She gazed out the window and watched the rest of the guys at work. “Dean will be so happy when he gets home.”
“Yeah? He’s not gonna be mad?”
“Why would he be mad?”
I turned so my back was against the counter. “I just don’t want him to think that I’m doing his job or something.”
“Honey, Dean has a job. He works six days a week and provides for our family. So what if we don’t have the nicest house on the street?” She shrugged. “So what if he doesn’t spend his time away from that job weeding the yard? I could get a job. I’ve offered, but he doesn’t want me to. He says that being a mom, taking care of our family, that’s more than enough work. And when he has any spare time, he spends it with Chloe and the kids. It’s important to him that we do everything we can so that the kids know we’re here for them.” She took the glass from my hand, refilled it, and handed it back. “So no, Blake. He won’t be offended. He’ll be enormously thankful.”
“Good. Because I wanted to put this in the yard when it’s done . . .” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the page I had ripped out of the Toys “R” Us catalog. But before I could show her, Chloe walked in.
“Who the hell are all those guys in—” She froze midstep.
My eyes nearly fell out of my head.
She was wearing a white bikini top. Tiny shorts. Nothing else. She was even hotter than my imagination had given her credit for. She was tanned, which surprised me, because she didn’t seem to be the type to be out there working on her tan—or whatever the hell it was chicks did.
“What are you doing here?”
She had a mole on her right breast. It was tiny. Right above where the bikini covered. Then her arms blocked the view.
My eyes snapped to hers. I was staring at her tits. Holy shit.
Her face flushed red as she clamped her mouth shut, trying to hide her smile.
I cleared my throat. “Um.” That was all I could get out.
“He’s clearing the yard for us,” Mary answered for me.
“You and whose army?” she asked, smiling openly now.
Mary giggled. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”
I never took my eyes off Chloe. She watched Mary leave the room before stepping closer to me.
“Blake?”
“Uh?”
“I didn’t know you were coming today, I made plans with Clayton.”
I couldn’t stop staring at her breasts.
“Blake!”
My eyes snapped to hers, and I shook my head, clearing the thoughts that were running wild in my mind. And then I laughed, because I didn’t know what else to do. She was driving me insane. “It’s okay,” I told her. “You’d just be a distraction anyway. Go. Leave.”
She chuckled and walked away.
I stared at her ass.
“Holy shit,” I mumbled.
“Blake,” Mary said, walking back into the kitchen. “That’s kind of my daughter you’re drooling over.”
I wiped my mouth. My cheeks burned. “Sorry.”
She laughed.
I was glad she found it funny. My dick sure as shit didn’t.
Chloe
“I don’t think this is it, Chloe.”
I looked down at the picture in my hand. Mom and Aunt Tilly as teenagers, hanging out with their friends by a lake . . . or a river. The picture had faded and creased over the years, so it was hard to make out. “Yeah, I don’t think it is, either.” I tried to hide the sadness in my voice, but Clayton could always tell.
“I’m sorry,” he said, walking up the rocky embankment toward me. He pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me.
“It’s okay,” I hugged him back and spoke into his chest. “I’ll just keep searching. We’ll find it next time.”
He squeezed me tighter. “You bring any food? I’m starving.”
“Mary called.”
I quirked an eyebrow.
That made him laugh, but only for a moment, before he sighed and set his sandwich on the rug we were sitting on. “You know I’ve never been one to give you advice or judge you or try to make you think that what you’re feeling is wrong.”
He was right, which meant that whatever he was about to say held a certain significance. I watched as his eyes roamed my face, searching for something that probably wasn’t there. Clayton had been through a lot in his life. His eyes—to me—always held a familiarity to them. A sense of home, if ever I had one. Despite how much he’d grown up the past few years, his eyes always reminded me of the kid who I was first introduced to.
I dropped my sandwich, faced the river, and brought my knees up to my chest. “Out with it,” I told him
“I just worry about you, Chloe.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I know you’re rolling your eyes.”
I turned to glare at him.
“You think I need to see you to know what you’re doing? That’s ass, and you know it.”
“Whatever.”
“All I’m saying is that I worry. I worry that you’re not getting the best out of your life.”
I went to interrupt, but he raised his hand to stop me.
“Just let me speak, please?”
I nodded but kept my eyes on the glistening water.
“I get why you do what you do . . . why you shut yourself off from the rest of the world and the people around you. But I’m scared for you. I’m scared that maybe you’ll do it, and it will all be for nothing. Maybe you’ll live to be a hundred.”
“There’s a fifty-fifty chance I carry that gene, Clay.”
“I know that. And you know that I know that. But that’s a fifty percent chance you don’t carry it, Chloe. And even if you do—it doesn’t necessarily mean cancer, and it might not get you as young as it got them. It might come a lot later in your life. It might not happen at all. Don’t you think that means something? That has to mean something. And the fact that you refuse to get checked . . . I mean . . . things have advanced since your mom—”
“What’s your point?” I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. I’d heard it all before. From Mary, from Dean, from the counselors they’d made me see when I was eleven.
He sighed heavily and moved closer so our sides were touching. “I’m just saying that maybe you’re missing out. Maybe if you open your eyes a little you’ll see that it’s not all bad. Maybe it’s okay to let someone in. To let them understand you. Maybe Blake—”
My breath caught.
He didn’t let it stop him from continuing. “I don’t know Blake, but neither do you. It’s just—from what I can see—he cares about you. More than you probably know. And I don’t know what’s happening between you two, but he’s trying. I know he’s the first guy—or person really—that you let in, even just for a little bit. But maybe you should try . . . Just try.”
The lump in my throat ached as much as the pain in my chest. I wanted him to stop talking.
He threw an arm around my shoulders and pulled me to him. “I dunno, Chloe. You had a mom who loved you. An aunt who took you in. Foster parents and siblings who adore you. You have a guy interested in getting to know you. If you take all that in, and the life that you’ve built for yourself, maybe it’s worth it. Maybe it’s worth that fifty percent chance at living.”
I released the sob I’d been trying so hard to contain and dropped my head into my hands. And I cried. I cried for my mom. My aunt. And I cried for Clayton—because he’d never had any of those things.
“I love you, Chloe. I’m so glad and so honored to know you. To be a part of your life. My point is that maybe others deserve that chance, too.”
Wiping my tears on his shirt, I whispered, “I can’t, Clay.” I looked up at him. “What would you do if you were me
. . . if you thought your time was limited? Would you purposely hurt the people you cared about?”
He shook his head slowly, his eyes penetrating mine. “No, Chloe, that’s the absolute last thing I’d ever want.” He kissed my forehead. “But I’m glad we had this talk.”
I sniffed and nodded into his chest. “Me, too.”
By the time Clayton pulled onto my street, it was early evening. Boys were walking down the driveway and into waiting cars. Some were loading mowers onto the beds of trucks. There had to be more than twenty of them.
“You coming in for a bit?”
Clayton nodded as he stepped out of his car. “I’ll just come in and say hi real quick.”
We walked to the end of the driveway and through the gate into the yard. I heard Dean’s voice before he came into my vision. “Holy shit, kid! This is amazing.”
I froze.
The entire yard had been cut back; the grass was short enough that you could actually walk on it. It’d been years since I’d seen it this clean. But that wasn’t what caught my attention. It was the giant play set that’d been built in the corner of the yard. I’d only ever seen such things at playgrounds.
Sammy stuck his head out the window of the upper level of the playhouse. “Chloe! Clayton! Come look!”
Blake and Dean quickly turned to us.
“It’s pretty great, huh, Chloe?” Dean said in awe.
I couldn’t take my eyes off Blake. His hands were in his front pockets. A slight smile on his face, almost as if he was embarrassed by Dean’s praise. His eyes moved to Clayton next to me, and he jerked his head in greeting.
Sammy’s childish holler broke through the silence. “Guys! What do you think?”
I glanced up at him. His smile was so big it was infectious. “It’s amazing, Sammy! It really is.”
Clayton cleared his throat. “Hey,” he said, speaking to Blake. “You want to show me the playhouse?”
“Yeah, man,” Blake replied and started to walk away.