by Gina Azzi
I watch her bend over the desk and shuffle through some folders. Her shoulders are tense, her posture rigid. I have no clue what caused her to go from sassy to stoic in an instant but my teasing definitely didn’t have the affect I had hoped for.
10
Evie
"Special delivery," Jax announces, dropping a bag from Maddie's on my desk Monday morning.
"Cinnamon rolls?"
"Still warm."
"Wow, you must have really missed me," I joke.
"You have no idea." He's serious. He did miss me?
"I meant this weekend."
"I meant always."
I roll my eyes, opening the top of the brown paper bag to peek inside and let some of the delicious aroma wash over me. "Thank you."
"Anything for you."
"How was your weekend?"
"Pretty good. Helped Denver work on a few cars he's doing on the side for some extra dough. Transmission changes and shit. Daisy's coming home on Thursday."
"She is? That's awesome. You must be so excited to see her."
"I am. Can't wait actually."
"How does she like Arizona?"
"She likes it too much. Carter says she only visits a few times a year."
"I can't believe she's graduating in May."
"Tell me about it. I haven’t seen her in two years. It's like I completely missed her growing up." He tugs on the back of his neck, his mouth flattening into a straight line.
I can't help the sympathetic look I throw his way.
He clears his throat. "How was your weekend?"
"Fine. I caught up on a bunch of assignments and mostly hung out with Graham. We had dinner with Mom. I saw Jenny."
"Don't give too much away."
"It was pretty standard."
"Maybe you need to shake it up next weekend."
Shake it up? I try to smile but it falls flat. Anxiety grips me as I remember him asking me out last week. What was he thinking? The worst part is that for a moment, I desperately wanted to say yes. My heart started racing, and my palms grew clammy and for just that tiny moment, I felt wanted in a way that didn't repulse me. But then I remembered all the things that could go wrong, all the ways he could find out the truth. So I bolted. And that same reaction to flee is building in my body again. I can feel the smile slip from my face, a sourness clenching my stomach as I study my hands so he can't read my eyes. "Nah, I like my weekends the way they are."
"That's not a bad thing. But don't you ever want to, I don't know, do something different? You were the queen of adventure planning. The only girl I knew who planned how to be spontaneous." He chuckles. "But still, you always had a million things you wanted to do or try or see."
"I've changed."
"Look, I get it. Seven years is a long time. I've changed, too."
"I know."
"We could get to know each other again." Is that hopeful hesitation I detect underneath his words?
I force myself to look up and see him grinning, suggestively wagging his eyebrows. I giggle. Literally, giggle before clamping my mouth shut. How the hell does he always get me to respond? How does he always manage to just work past my anxiety and make me comfortable?
"What if you don't like the new me?" I keep my tone playful, teasing. "I could chew with my mouth open or ask too many personal questions. Or snore." Face palm. Why, oh why, did I say that? Snoring would imply sleeping together. Something I shouldn't be thinking about. Something I shouldn't be remembering. I can feel the embarrassment spreading like a million prickly cactuses up my arms and neck.
"Impossible, I'll always like you best," he says seriously, a glint of amusement crossing his face. "Besides," he continues, reaching into the bag and breaking off a bite of pastry, "you've always snored."
"I, what? No." Very articulate, Evie.
"Kane! Stop picking on Evie and get to work." Marco's voice rings out, abruptly ending our conversation. I'm relieved he scolded Jax and not me. So relieved I can't turn around to look at him.
"Yes, sir," Jax answers, his face growing serious.
I can feel him studying me; I’m nervous now that he's going to be upset with me for getting him in trouble. I meet his eyes as he winks.
"Don't sweat it, Maywood. Your snores have always been soft and cute. Like a little puppy." He wrinkles his nose at me, and I shake my head, beaming up at him like the teenage version of myself.
"Go do your exercises."
"Save me a cinnamon roll."
I watch him strut toward the locker room and see how the other women in the gym glance at him from the corners of their eyes, fascinated. I note how the other men look at him openly, enviously. I admire him without him even realizing that I've always admired him. Even though I don't want him to, Jaxon Kane has a claim on me I'll never be able to shake.
Taking a deep breath, I walk through Sanderson High's front doors for my last first day of school. This time next year, if all goes according to plan, I'll be a cadet. I'll have survived the Beast Barracks, better known as Cadet Basic Training. I'll be wearing my uniform. I'll be firmly on the path that my great-grandfather elected when he attended West Point in 1923 before becoming a three-star general. I'll be doing something that matters.
But for now as I step into the humid halls of my high school and dodge a group of freshmen staring at their schedules with wide eyes and panicked expressions, I'll just try to enjoy senior year like Graham suggested. Hurrying down the hallway to my locker, I place several single-subject notebooks along with extra pens and pencils on the top shelf before closing the door. Fixing the strap of my shoulder bag, I walk toward my homeroom and slide into my seat several minutes before the bell rings.
When the bell sounds, I fold my hands on top of my notebook and wait for Mrs. Warren to begin.
"Good morning and welcome to your senior year." Mrs. Warren says, and the class simultaneously quiets and surges with the excited energy of finally being seniors. "As you know, homeroom is just to take attendance and help you all start your day on the right foot. I recommend using this time to finish up any assignments, catch up on reading, or head to the library to get a jumpstart on projects. Try not to waste this precious time by just hanging out, discussing sports stats, or your weekend plans." Her eyes cut knowingly to a few guys from the football team and a girl who is polishing her nails.
The door to the classroom opens suddenly, and a guy strolls in, a navy backpack slung over one shoulder. "Hey, sorry I'm late," he announces, not sounding the least bit sorry, before smiling widely at some of his friends and slipping into the open seat next to me.
I roll my eyes. Of course he’s late. Jaxon Kane, the good-looking, annoyingly likable, and surprisingly smart quarterback. Every guy wants to be him, and every girl wants to be with him. The most irritating thing about him is that he’s actually nice. Not that I’ve ever spoken to him. But I’ve seen him interact with others in the hallways or cafeteria and while his football friends can be downright jerks, he has an easy-going vibe that attracts everyone. Even me, I admit, as my heart rate picks up and my palms dampen.
"As I was saying," Mrs. Warren picks back up with her homeroom rules as pockets of conversation break out around the room.
"Hey," Jax says, leaning over the side of his desk toward me. "Got a pen I could borrow?"
"A pen?" I ask. Who comes to the first day of school without a pen? Before I can grab an extra one from my bag, Silvia Jenkins turns around in her seat, flicks her strawberry blonde curls over her shoulder, and fastens her eyes on Jax.
"Here you go, Jax." She hands him a pen, a tiny slip of paper rolled around the end and tucked under the cap. As if she already had her number prepared and waiting. Was she waiting to give it to him specifically or does she do that for any guy she thinks is hot?
"Thanks, Silvia." He smiles that captivating grin again, reaching out to run his fingertips across her bare shoulder and tugs teasingly on the strap of her tank top. "You're the best."
Her laugh i
s breathless, and she turns forward in her seat as Mrs. Warren calls her name out for roll call.
"Here."
Jax leans over in my direction again as I sit straight, face-forward, pretending he doesn't even exist, which is the biggest joke on the planet. How could someone not realize he exists? I sit quietly, listening to him breathe beside me, half wishing he would notice me and half wishing I were invisible.
"You got a piece of paper I can have?"
My heart sprints.
"Paper?" I repeat, annoyed that I sound like a parrot in his presence. But really, who doesn't bring a notebook on the first day of school either?
"Yeah, you know, something to write on?" he says it slowly, as if I'm the daft one.
"Jaxon Kane." Mrs. Warren looks up from her attendance binder and zeroes in on him.
"Here."
I huff, pretending to be annoyed when all I am is a nervous wreck that he's talking to me. Me. Flipping open my notebook again, I turn to the second sheet and carefully tug a sheet out along the perforated edge.
Jax chuckles next to me, but I don't give him the time of day.
"Evelyn Maywood," Mrs. Warren calls out.
"Present," I say, my eyes snapping up to the front of the room. "Evie's fine."
She makes a note in her binder before calling out the next name.
I turn in my seat to hand the paper to Jax. "Thank you, Evie," he says my name softly, and a thrill of goose bumps runs up my spine when his warm fingers graze mine as he takes the paper.
I nod, briefly wondering if he knew my name before Mrs. Warren began roll call, then feeling annoyed with myself for caring at all. I mean, why does it matter if Jax Kane knows if I exist? As an Army kid, I've moved loads of times and started over in new schools every few years. But, lucky for me, I've been at Sanderson for my entire high school career. So even though I don't have the childhood memories and long-standing friendships that most of my classmates have cultivated after twelve years of school together, thirteen if you count Kindergarten, I still know everyone in my class. Not that that means everyone knows me. Frustrated with my wayward thoughts, I refuse to make eye contact with Jax for the rest of homeroom.
Still, when he uncurls the slip of paper that Silvia attached to the pen, I can't help but notice the giant smile that stretches across his perfect lips at her phone number.
Or the brief flick of jealousy that ripples through my chest.
11
Jax
Where is she? I'm practically bouncing from one foot to the next as I wait in arrivals, my eyes scanning everyone who leaves baggage claim with their rolling suitcases and duffle bags. It's insane how excited I am to see my sister. I haven’t seen her since I flew her to meet me in New York two years ago when I had some leave.
"Daisy! Over here." I hold a hand up to catch her attention as she walks out of baggage claim, pulling her small Samsonite behind her. Holy shit, she's a freaking adult. It’s startling how much she’s changed in two years. Walking toward me now, a cream blazer over her blouse and her golden-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, I still picture her as a little girl with freckles and pigtails.
"I knew you would come!" She sails into my arms, almost knocking me over with the force of her enthusiasm. She hugs me tightly, her arms wrapping around my back, her fingers digging into my T-shirt like she's scared I'll disappear if she lets go.
I hug her just as fiercely, tucking her head under my chin and breathing her in. Grasping the ends of her hair, I tug on the soft strands. "No crazy braid running down your back?"
She shakes her head, her hair tickling my chin as she pulls away. "You know I’m not twelve anymore, right?"
"Shut up."
"I'm happy you're home."
"Me too." I take the handle of her suitcase and throw my arm across her shoulders, wanting to keep her close. "You ready?"
She nods, and I press another kiss to the crown of her head as we make our way out of the airport, sidestepping joyous reunions and tearful farewells.
The stuffy air greets us the second the sliding doors open, and Daisy shrugs out of her blazer, folding it neatly over her arm. I tug her toward the parking lot.
"I was stoked when Denver said you were coming home for spring break," I admit.
"Yeah?" She twists her head to peer up at me. "I was pretty stoked to see you myself. I can't believe how long it's been."
"I know. I figured you'd be heading somewhere like Cancun or Puerto Rico to party. It is your last spring break, you know."
Daisy giggles, and the sound pierces my mind. All the times I would make her laugh growing up come back to me in full force.
"I'm fully aware. I was planning to go to St. Barth's with my roommate, Sierra; her family has a house there."
I let out a low whistle, impressed that Daisy at least has friends with access to things that us Kane kids never dreamed of growing up. "What happened? She uninvited you for stealing all her socks?"
Daisy throws her head back and laughs. The sound is wild and carefree, uninhibited, and a smile splits my face. God, I've missed her.
"You remember what a weirdo Carter used to be about his socks? One time, one time," she says, holding up a finger to emphasize her point, "I borrowed a pair of socks and jeez, you'd have thought I stole his piggy bank or something."
"Remember how he used to iron his jeans?"
Another stream of laughter bursts forth, tears shimmering in the corners of her eyes. "Oh, my God! How did he ever get girls? He's such a nerd!"
"I know. It's insane. He somehow managed to fool all the girls coming in and out of his bedroom."
Daisy shakes her head. "I doubt that. They never struck me as the brightest crayons in the box to begin with."
"Good point."
"I miss the big nerd, though. I can't wait to see him. And Den."
"They're excited to see you, too. We’re meeting them at Raf's in about thirty minutes. You hungry?"
Daisy looks up at me, beaming. Seriously, her face brightens like the sun. "Yeah, that's perfect. I can't wait for us all to be sitting around a table again. This time, I can even legally drink with y'all."
I give her a sharp look before I realize she's serious. And correct. Daisy can legally drink with us all. Man, sometimes I can't believe I really let seven years go by without ever coming home. So much has changed.
"Don't go crazy."
"Who me?" Daisy pouts innocently, and it strikes me that I have no clue if she's serious or not.
I need to spend a lot of time catching up with my little sister.
"Here she is. The girl of the hour!" Lenny announces our arrival into Raf's.
Daisy calls out in greeting, walking over to the bar and standing on her tippy toes to lean over the ledge and press a kiss to his cheek. What the fuck?
"Hey, Len. Where're they?" she asks.
"Back corner." He juts his thumb over his shoulder. "Something about not wanting any guy in here to get a good look at you."
"Ah." Daisy rolls her eyes. "Makes sense now."
She continues walking to the back of the bar before looking over her shoulder at me. Her eyebrows lift in question. "You coming?"
"Yeah." I take a step to follow her, my eyes checking every single motherfucker sitting in Raf's and warning them that their eyes best be glued to their burgers and not on my sister.
"Hi ya, fellas!" Daisy calls out as Carter and Denver come into view.
They both look up, their expressions softening when they see her. Sliding out of either side of the booth, my brothers stand to take turns enveloping Daisy in massive hugs.
"I'm happy you're home," Carter murmurs into her hair, genuine affection crossing his face as he pulls back to peer at her. "You're attracting too much attention, though, so try and make yourself ugly when we get home, so I don't have to beat anyone up this visit." He raises his eyebrows, and she laughs, shaking her head. Still, something passes between them, and I narrow my gaze at their exchange. Did Carter really have to b
eat someone up the last time Daisy was home?
"You hungry?" Denver asks, gesturing for Daisy to sit down before he slides in beside her, effectively hiding her from every patron here. Nice move, Den.
"Starved."
"Me too." I drop into the booth.
"Burgers and beers?" Carter asks, throwing his hand up to catch the server's attention.
"Duh." Daisy says.
Carter orders four burgers and four pints of Heineken.
And then silence descends on our table as we each take a minute to stare at each other. For the first time in seven long years, all four Kane kids are reunited at the place they used to consider their second home. After Mom passed and Dad went to jail, we spent a lot of dinners around this same table. Now, everything is different.
Then Carter farts, and Daisy reaches over the table to punch him in the shoulder, and Den lets loose with crude swearing and I laugh. Really laugh.
And then, it's like nothing has changed at all.
Absolutely nothing.
I settle into a routine, as being home becomes my new norm. Running in the mornings with Carter, catching glimpses of Denver in the kitchen scrambling eggs for breakfast or boiling water for pasta for dinner. Now, with Daisy's flip-flops stacked in a pile by the front door, it all sort of clicks together, and the house feels like home again. I even mow the lawn.
Therapy at Morris becomes consistent. I see Peters three times a week for rehabilitation. My shoulder burns and crunches and makes a shit ton of sounds a shoulder shouldn't make. It's sore and achy but my range of motion is improving. I never thought getting shot in the shoulder would be a tough injury to come back from; I never expected it to take so long to heal. But slowly, I’m making progress. The skin around my scars pulls and crinkles and looks ugly as shit. But I stick with it, knowing that seeing Peters also means seeing Evie.
She's there every morning when I walk in. Quiet, polite, professional. She greets everyone the same way, except little by little I can tell I'm getting to her. She doesn’t look nearly as guarded when she sees me and she talks more openly now. Some days, she even throws me some sass and spunk, which I cling to like a lifeline. Still, I’m hesitant to joke with her too much, not wanting her to push me away like she has in the past.