by Ivy Fox
The minute they feel me near, Ash lets her go, and she turns and jumps into my arms. Her whole body relaxes and melts into mine as if I was the only one in the world that could offer her peace.
It’s fucking addictive.
“I missed you,” she whispers into my chest, and I kiss the top of her head, loving how her hold tightens around my neck, intent on keeping me close.
“I was with you for most of the day, baby. You couldn’t have missed me that much.” I snicker, bringing her chin up to me. Her light-gray eyes sparkle with honesty, reinforcing her remark, and my heart squeezes ever so painfully, reprimanding me for not being able to have her in my arms every second of the day.
“Having you both watch me work for hours on end, like two stalkers, isn’t quite the same thing and you know it,” she counters playfully.
“No, it’s not the same. I can’t do this when I want to, for one,” I reply, finally stealing a kiss of my own. Just like this morning, the sweet taste of sugar and Christmas cookies hits my lips, and I eat it up like a man on a mission. Our Snow really is like a precious snowflake—unique and one of a kind.
Before I fall down the rabbit hole of temptation and let my own desires overpower me, I pull back and lower her to the ground, breaking our fevered kiss. The little scowl that appears on her face is just too fucking cute, and I can’t help but chuckle at our girl’s annoyance for not getting her fill.
“There will be plenty of time for that, Snow. But first we have some talking to do,” I tell her, grabbing her hand and bringing her along with me, closer to the fire.
It’s not too cold out, but the night wind does bring some chill with it. Snow will be more comfortable if we have this conversation while next to an open fire. I have never been one to underestimate the power of creating a seductive atmosphere to get the results I want. I got Snow to kiss me for the very first time when I lit one up on this same beach, so it’s inevitable for me to consider a bonfire being my lucky charm when it comes to her. I take my jacket off and place it on the ground. I sit down first, and lightly pat the jacket beside me, inviting her to take a seat.
“Sit down, Snow. We have some things we want you to see,” Ash announces behind her, placing a chaste kiss behind her ear, making her squirm in delight.
I hold out my hands to her, and she adoringly takes them, finally sitting down as I requested in the first place. Ash follows right along and sits next to her, playing with a long lock of her hair, while giving me a conspiring wink for me to proceed.
“Hmm, what are you boys up to?” She giggles, getting comfortable between the body heat we’re offering.
With my phone in my hand, I pull up the photographs that have been burning it up for the past two months. I hand it to her, and with a suspicious rise of her brow, she begins to scroll through each photo, oblivious of what they represent.
“I don’t get it. What exactly am I looking at?” she questions, perplexed.
“What does it look like?” I rebuke affectionately, rubbing her naked knee with my thumb.
“Looks like someone’s house,” she counters, shrugging her shoulders, still blatantly clueless of why we were so anxious to show her these pictures.
“It’s a loft, actually. In Soho,” I clarify, hoping she’ll get to the punch line, without me having to spell it out.
“Okay. It’s beautiful, without a doubt. I love the raw space and lighting,” she ventures, taking a closer inspection of each photograph, zooming in on the features she is most fascinated by. “But that still doesn’t answer the question. Why am I looking at it?”
“Because as of last week, it’s ours. I mean, it will be, once we sign all the paperwork when we get back to New York,” Ash adds proudly.
“You guys bought a house?” she asks in surprise, her wide smile showing just how happy she is with our acquisition.
“It’s a loft, baby,” Ash repeats smugly.
“Don’t get cute with me, Asher. I know it’s a loft, and a gorgeous one at that, but why did you guys buy it? Do you have to move out of your father’s place?” she asks, suddenly concerned.
The joyous shine on her face is replaced by worry, perhaps because she imagines that living under the same roof as my father is no longer a possibility. The relationship with our asshole of a father has been deteriorating over the years, and however unfortunate it may sound, is nothing new to us. Of course, moving out of that hell and away from his clutches is an added bonus.
“No, don’t worry. It’s nothing as severe as that. We have no intention of moving just yet; at least not until we graduate, and not until you come to New York to live with us,” I explain, not wanting to prolong her suffering.
“What?” she chokes out, her eyes growing wider by the minute.
“Just hear us out, Snow. We know you’re planning on applying to Berklee College of Music in Boston to get your degree in songwriting, but Massachusetts is not where you’ll make connections that will get your songs on a Broadway stage. New York is where you need to be. There are so many stellar schools there where you can major in music. You can go with us to NYU, or if that’s too much for you, enroll in Pace. It’s an incredible school with a notorious music program,” I say, adding the last part when I see her whole body tense with trepidation at the mention of attending the same college as us.
My logic tells me it’s a perfectly understandable reaction to have. I mean, we are ambushing her with the news of the house we bought, purposely with her in mind. Asking her to attend the same campus might be overkill on our part. Still, the stupid, scared organ inside my chest takes it as a rejection, that she is still too insecure about us and her feelings. I can’t really blame her when I’m just as apprehensive about acknowledging them for what they really are.
“Or you can stop beating around the bush and just apply to Juilliard. We know that’s where you’ve always dreamed of going anyway,” Ash interjects, rolling his eyes at her reluctance to even apply there.
She rubs her lower lip raw, and her hesitation is so damn palpable that it’s making me tongue-tied, preventing all the eloquent, convincing arguments I had memorized for this very moment from being uttered. Sensing my faltering lack of persuasive vocabulary, Ash takes over for me, grabbing our girl’s chin in his grasp, and turning her his way.
“Just think about it, Snow. You wouldn’t have to worry about housing expenses or any of that crap because Ollie and I would have you covered. All you have to do is kick ass studying and using that beautiful brain of yours to create masterpiece after masterpiece. School loans can cover tuition; that’s what banks are for, right? All you have to do is apply, babe. Juilliard would be lucky to have you. And while you would follow your dreams at learning how to become the next big lyricist, paving your way to a Tony Award, you would also get to come home every night to us,” Ash reasons animatedly, pure conviction and belief swimming in his eyes.
Again, I envy the ‘jump head first and fuck the consequences’ attitude my brother displays so brazenly.
“What if I’m not good enough?” she whispers under her breath.
“Is that what you’re worried about? Babe, you’re good! Shit, you’re more than good—you’re the most talented person we know! You can do this. We know you can. You just have to believe in yourself as much as we do,” he adds dotingly.
“I see that. So much so, you bought a house for me to live in.” She tries to laugh it off, but it comes out in a nervous hiccup.
“Loft,” Ash teases, and she slants her eyes at him, forgetting her apprehensive mood for a minute. “Don’t think we don’t have our own selfish reasons to get you to New York. We want to take this relationship to the next level, babe. You feel me? We just hope you’re ready and feel the same.”
She throws him a small smile and leans in to kiss him on his scruffy cheek. She then turns toward me and repeats the tender endearment.
“Can I think about it?” she asks, this time locking her skittish stare with m
y own uneasy expression.
I’m being an asshole for thinking only about my feelings, instead of worrying about how life-changing this decision will be for her. I shake off my egotistical thoughts and place both my hands on her cheeks, pulling her so close that our lips almost touch.
“Of course you can. We’re not expecting you to give us an answer tonight. This is a big move for us, too. Take as much time as you need. We’ll support whatever you decide,” I tell her, but behind Snow’s back, I watch my twin’s black look darken with this out I just offered.
Ash won’t be at all happy to support her going to Boston instead of moving in with us. He’ll bitch and moan and be worse than a two-year-old having a tantrum, but he’ll just have to put on his big-boy pants if that’s her decision.
I’m not losing Snow just because she wants to take things slow. Asking our girl to move to a new city, go to a different college than she initially planned on attending, while shacking up with two guys in the process, isn’t something to take lightly.
Snow offers me a grateful smile before giving me a small peck on the lips. Too small in my book to count, but before I can get a real kiss from her, she stands up on her feet and walks closer to the bonfire.
“I guess tonight we were all thinking of the same thing,” she says, looking a bit more confident than she was a minute ago.
“You mean you were thinking of moving to New York, too?” Ash asks impatiently, and this time, I grunt, annoyed at my brother’s restless spirit.
“No.” She laughs. “I promise I will think long and hard about it, though. It’s very sweet of you to offer.”
“So what’s on your mind, Snow?” I question, wanting to move off this topic as quickly as possible since her caution is beginning to cripple my insides again.
“What I meant is that I’ve been toying with the idea of taking us to the next level, too,” she retorts, biting her lip flirtatiously. Before I have time to construe what that statement means, Snow starts to unbutton her jean shorts and lets it fall to the sand in one go, answering my unspoken question.
My brother straightens his back to make sure his eyes aren’t fooling him, and my own breath stills, watching her every slow and deliberate move. She delicately pulls her white T-shirt over her head, her halo of hair falling behind her shoulders, and I choke at the exquisite sight before us. In a simple baby-blue bra and panty set, she’s able to erase any coherent thought from my mind, making my mouth dry as the Sahara Desert craving for just a drop of her.
“How about we start this summer a little differently?” Snow stutters, her nerves resurfacing and taking over her bravado. “Anyone up for a swim?” she taunts, turning her back to us, and giving us a full view of her tight ass that begs to be marked with my teeth.
Before we even have the opportunity to get to our feet, Snow is already diving into the sea.
“I like this game of cat and mouse,” Ash murmurs next to me, licking his lips with an ear-to-ear grin.
My eyes never waver from her, as my mind replays every soft curve of her creamy skin that she just flaunted in front of us. Ash nudges me on the shoulder, taking me out of my stupor, with a roguish gleam in his eye. A familiar look of mischief is plastered all over his face, and I am too tempted not to go along with whatever his deviant mind has come up with.
“How about we show our girl just how well we can play?”
Chapter 5
Holland
The cold water hits my aching joints and numbs them to perfection. A wiser person probably wouldn’t insist on working twelve-hour shifts, knowing how much her body would resent the fact after being on her feet for so long. Regardless of what is expected of me health wise, I have no regrets. Doing something as mundane as serving coffee gives me the sense of normalcy I crave. It gives me a certain illusion of control that somehow I’m the one who has a say on what my body can handle. It might be foolish of me to believe that something as ordinary as a summer job can offer me such comfort, but it does. And I relish every pain and soreness it gives me, knowing that the reason for the discomfort isn’t my decaying body, it’s just a sign of an honest day’s work—a simplicity most take for granted.
I’ve learned the hard way that nothing in life should be discarded so carelessly.
Such as the view I’m enjoying now of my two boys—staring back at me with their jaws dropped in shock after my little, flirtatious stunt. I throw them what I hope is a naughty wink, daring them to join me. I watch Ash frantically wrestle with his belt, while Ollie’s stunning smile can be seen, clear as day under the moonlight, as he pulls his T-shirt off chuckling with the endeavor.
I still can’t believe they bought a house—or loft, as Ash kept reminding me. They must have spent a countless amount of time looking for a place they thought I would feel at home in. I have to admit, they nailed my taste perfectly. Every room had clean lines, a generous amount of space, and an abundance of natural light thanks to the floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s a perfect home for a young couple, but I shudder to think how much that piece of real estate set them back. Living in New York isn’t cheap by any means, and having such a spacious home, right smack in the center of one of the most prominent neighborhoods the Big Apple has to offer, is quite intimidating, frankly.
I know I came off as skittish when they told me what they had done and, more importantly, why they had done it. But my reluctance wasn’t because I didn’t want to move in with them and start our life together; I want those things with all my heart. The reason I didn’t say yes to their elaborate and sweet plan comes down to one simple detail—I would need to live in New York, of all places. The same city my parents lived and ruled over. Okay, maybe not my father, but my mother is surely known in most circles, and if I move in with Ollie and Ash as they want me to, I run the serious risk of crossing paths with the vile woman—an occurrence I was hoping to avoid by moving to Boston.
The funny thing is that all three of us really were thinking the same thing. This summer, I was actually hoping to persuade my twins to consider moving to The Bay State with me, after senior year. I know their father insists on them attending an Ivy League school, so having to pitch Harvard over NYU didn’t seem like the worst idea. But with them buying a house, I can’t exactly ask them now. They’ve made it clear they want to stay in the same city where they grew up, which makes perfect sense. It’s me who doesn’t want to have any affiliation with my past, and although I’ve never lived in New York, the city holds more memories of whose daughter I am, than Brookhaven ever did.
I turn my back to the beach and take another dive into the calm ocean, hoping the cooling effect from the gelid water dampens my troubled thoughts. After a few minutes, I feel exquisite with the wealth of freedom that swimming into unknown depths offers, shedding all worries away. I hold my breath as long as I can and breaststroke my way further into the deep. When my lungs start to burn from the effort, I come to the surface taking in an almighty breath, reminding me I’m alive and young enough to do silly things like a midnight swim in the Atlantic.
“Snow! Get your fine ass back here!” I hear Ash yell out in the distance.
I turn my head toward the beach and smile when I see just how far I’ve come.
“Be grateful for small miracles,” I whisper into the night air, knowing I’m too far for them to hear me.
It was something Dad would always say after we found out I was sick. Always the one to celebrate these small, simple things with me, even though at the time I just thought he was overcompensating. Yet now, those are the moments I most take pride in. He was always so adamant in my fight, so sure I could overcome any strife I encountered. But when it came to his own demons, he just gave up.
A stray tear unwillingly falls down my face, and I immediately wipe my cheek, camouflaging it with the water around me. I’ve shed enough tears for him already. I won’t let them return at a time where I have the opportunity to be happy. Asher and Oliver make me happy, no matter which city we
end up living in. I know they will always make me happy; make me feel normal and whole.
My father robbed me of the only supportive parent I had.
I won’t let him rob me of my last summer with the owners of my heart.
Guilt washes over me at the angry thought, but as I do with most of my melancholic and resentful inner reflections, I cast it to the back of my mind, trying to keep my focus on the here and now. I lie down on the water, floating effortlessly, and back paddle myself closer to the beach where the twins have finally waded in. Hopefully, they can pull my mind away from the past and give me a taste of what our future will hold.
My eyes are drawn to the full moon above, while my hair and limbs spread effortlessly onto the watery bed beneath me. I feel like a snow angel in the peak of summer, and my spirit starts to rise at the childish notion. I move my stretched arms back and forth, the ripples of the tide beating against my goose-bumped flesh, and a small giggle escapes me.
“What’s so funny, starfish?” Ollie questions at my side, startling me with his close proximity.
I place both feet on the flat ocean floor, and rise above the dark blue water, leaving my upper body completely exposed to the twins’ wandering eyes. The baby blue, lace bra that I have on is doing an awful job of concealing the swell of breasts from their locked gazes.
“I should start putting bells on you both, so I know when you’re coming. It’s the second time today you’ve been able to surprise me,” I stutter, drawing my arms around myself, trying to keep some sense of modesty intact.