by Jenn Hype
I’d grabbed all the ingredients needed for mom’s trademark beef stew. They hadn’t bothered with asking me what the groceries were for; they already knew. Just like they all knew I didn’t want to explain my reason for being there.
In another rare moment of spontaneity, I pulled out my phone and texted Blake.
Me: Dinner at my mom’s in thirty minutes. You’re invited.
The little bubble that indicated she was typing a response popped up immediately.
Blake: Sweet. I’ll bring dessert.
I didn’t bother trying to fight my smile. I’d expected more resistance from her. At the least, a barrage of questions. We’d left things pretty up in the air earlier, and the last time she was invited to my mom’s, she wasn’t met with the warmest of greetings. Her willingness to drop whatever she was doing and join my family for dinner? It meant more to me than I was willing to admit just yet.
“You going to stand there like a slacker loser or are you gonna help make dinner?”
Clara stood with her hand on one hip, a giant knife in the other.
“Uhh, watcha’ doin’ with that big knife there, sis?”
“That depends. You can use it to slice the meat, or I can stab you in the foot with it.”
“Clara, don’t threaten your brother,” mom scolded. I smiled smugly. “CJ, help your sisters or I’ll put that knife in your foot myself.”
I gulped and did as instructed. Not that I thought mom would stab me, but we’d been conditioned not to challenge her. Habit had me taking the knife from Clara to start slicing the beef into long, thin strips.
“How’s the job, Jo?” I asked as I absent-mindedly started chopping the carrots after cleaning the knife when I finished with the meat.
When she didn’t answer, I paused mid-chop to find all three women staring at me, though they all averted their eyes when I looked up.
“Actually, I got let go a few months ago. Been trying to find something, but it’s slim pickins out there for someone with an art history degree.”
She shrugged like it was no big deal. In the past I would have called her out on her bullshit and forced her to talk to me about it. Didn’t feel like I had the right to anymore, though. So instead I changed the subject.
“How goes school, Clara?”
Another awkward silence. Clara shuffled her feet, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. “I uh, I graduated a few weeks ago.”
My head reared back in shock. Why hadn’t anyone told me?
“I mailed you an invitation to the ceremony. I know you have a lot going on and didn’t want to pressure you, so I figured when you didn’t mention it, you just hadn’t been able to make it because of work or something.”
Well, fuck me. I was quite possibly the worst brother on the planet. Yet Clara was the one who looked guilty. Like she felt bad for even bringing it up, as if my being a self-absorbed asshole were somehow her fault. I dropped the knife and yanked on her arm, pulling her into a hug.
“I’m sorry, Clare-Bear. I didn’t see it. I haven’t been going home much lately and when I do, it’s just to sleep.”
Was I really that far gone? I knew I’d pulled back a lot, but I didn’t think I’d cut myself off from my family so entirely that they wouldn’t mention something as monumental as my little sister graduating college. Part of me was hurt that they didn’t try harder to get me involved, but then again, they had tried. In the beginning, they tried so hard that I eventually broke down and yelled at them to back off. They were giving me what I wanted. Only I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to feel so entirely disconnected from the people I loved.
She sniffled and buried her face into my chest, mumbling, “Love you, big brother.”
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“You don’t have to do that. I-“
“Yes,” I interrupted. “Yes, I do. And I want to, so quit arguing with me.”
Clara smiled I lightly knocked her chin with my knuckles.. The sound of the doorbell ringing interrupted the unexpected emotional moment.
“Ain’t no party like a Blake Myers party ‘coz a Blake Myers party is awesoooome!”
“I don’t think that’s how it goes, Blake,” Josi teased, taking a pink box from Blake’s hands.
Clara pounced like a bloodhound sniffing out game. “Oooh, she brought dessert. That means she can sing off-key and use the wrong words all she wants,” she said with her eyes glued to the box.
“Hey!” Blake pushed Clara. “Off-key? Too far, Clara. Too far.”
I watched the interaction between Blake and my sisters with confusion. They acted really comfortable with each other. The doorbell rang again before I could ask about it.
“Mama Rose!” Liam yelled before wrapping my mom up in a big hug.
“Quit hogging her, dipshit,” Malcom said as he tossed Liam to the side and hugged my mom with the same familiarity.
“Language,” mom scolded teasingly. Malcom blushed. Actually fucking blushed. If I wasn’t so damn confused as to what was happening, I would have been mocking the shit out of him. Or maybe not, since I didn’t joke around. A fact that hadn’t bothered me before. Now I couldn’t help but feel like I was a passenger in my own life.
Malcolm apologized meekly before stepping aside so Sebastian could take his turn.
“Why are all of you here? And why are all of you getting handsy with my mom?”
Mom snapped me with her dish towel. Woman was seriously good at that. It hurt like a bitch when she hit bare skin.
“I invited them,” Blake explained as if inviting my employees to my mom’s house was a common occurrence for her. I felt like I’d fallen down the fucking rabbit hole.
“Don’t get too excited about that dessert I brought, Clara. It’s sugar free, gluten free and low fat so that your dad can have some. The guys brought something for the rest of you though.”
Clara made a face at the pink box before yanking a bag that Liam was holding out of his hands, opening it and peering inside. Then she looked up at him with wide eyes that shone with adoration. He shot a scared look my way before Clara jerked his attention back to her when she threw her arms around his neck.
“I love you. Marry me.”
“Clara, quit scaring the guests. Grab those bags and bring them in here, please!” Mom yelled from the kitchen.
After a quick peck to his cheek, Clara snagged the bags and took off.
“What the fuck just happened?”
After a long pause, everyone burst into hysterics. Myself included. Liam stood there, outraged and freaking the hell out, while Malcolm, Sebastian, Blake and myself stood bent over, clutching our stomachs and laughing uncontrollably. Liam looked like he was about to run straight through the front door, leaving behind a Liam-shaped hole in the drywall.
“CJ, Blake, future husband and friends - get in here! Mom let me make the appetizers to eat! Dinner done in twenty!” Clara called from the kitchen. Still laughing, we all filed into the kitchen. Malcolm pushed in a pale faced Liam who was trying to dig his heels into the ground. They were the last ones to take a seat at the massive oak table that had been in my family for more generations than I could name. Dad was already sitting at the head of the table, mom seated on his left. Then Josi, Clara and Sebastian. Malcolm took the seat on the end, and next to him was Liam, then Blake and I rounded out the group sitting on the right of my dad.
It was odd, having so many people seated at the same table at my mother’s house. A short time ago, the scene before me would have made me so uncomfortable it would have bordered on anger. Now, I felt oddly content. It was that contentment that had me reaching for Blake’s hand under the table. Her face whipped around, her eyes wide with shock that quickly morphed into what could only be described as affection. I wasn’t sure what I’d done to earn that affection, but I was grateful. She still annoyed the life out of me, but I realized then that her relentless pursuance was exactly what I needed.
She squeezed my hand and thread
ed our fingers together, and we stayed like that until we finally had to break apart to eat. Like usual, I stayed mostly quiet and observed the people around me, only this time I didn’t feel like an outsider looking in. Because every time Blake would laugh at something someone said, she’d look my way, like she wanted to share each happy moment with me. If someone teased me playfully, she’d reach over and squeeze my knee for reassurance I hadn’t known I’d needed.
Since meeting her, I’d done everything I could to push her away, yet she still kept coming back. My family was the same way, but they were family. Their love was unconditional by default. The guys who worked for me had become friends of sorts, but when you sign someone’s paycheck, you can’t help but doubt their true loyalty. Yet, even though I employed Blake as well, it was…different. She’d already started to burrow herself deep underneath my skin before she’d become an employee. And I knew, somehow I knew, it wouldn’t matter if I fired her right then on the spot. Blake was different, and God help me, but I was done fighting it. Fighting her.
Things in my life were shifting. Nothing could stay the same forever. It was time for me to let go of the reigns for once and learn to just enjoy the ride.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BLAKE
“If you are always trying to be normal, you will never know how amazing you can be.”
- Maya Angelou
“One more time. I can do it, I swear.”
“No. No more,” CJ argued, shaking his head.
“Just let me try. I promise, I can do this!” I whined when he continued to shake his head no. “You have to let me try again, CJ! You want me to beg? Fine.” I dropped out of my seat and onto my knees.
“Blake, stop. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Damn man was impossible.
I hobbled towards him on my knees, keeping my hands steepled in prayer-like position. “I swear, I won’t let you down.”
CJ’s eyes narrowed. He was sitting and I was kneeled before him, yet he was still like, three feet taller than me. No matter how many times I accused Rose of putting growth hormones in CJ’s baby bottles, she still refused to admit his size was manufactured. I’d wear her down. I was determined to, because whatever she did to make the perfect specimen that was CJ, I wanted to do the same thing for my children one day.
“Do I look like an idiot? You’ve already failed at this three times. I’m not putting myself through this again.”
My head fell back in defeat. “Ugh! You are so infuriating!”
Snickers were muffled. I was biting back a smile, myself. I lost the battle when I opened my eyes again and saw CJ smiling down at me. The man was already sexier than should be legal, but his smile was lethal. Angels I swear to you, angels fell out of the sky and fell at his feet.
Giving up for the moment, I sat back down in my chair. It had been a week since the impromptu dinner at Rose’s house, and seemingly overnight, CJ had become almost an entirely different person. I would be worried about the sudden and drastic change, but his sisters assured me that the CJ I was getting to know now was the same one they’d grown up with.
More and more, he consumed not just my thoughts, but every part of me. Even now, sitting around a small bonfire with friends, all I wanted was to climb into his lap and cling to him for dear life. I had to force myself not to watch him constantly, to analyze every expression, every word, every subtle move of his body. It scared me, how much I wanted to know him. Needed to know him. What made him tick, what made him hide himself away for so long, what I could do to make him happy. Because he deserved happiness, and God help me, I wanted to be the one who gave it to him.
I’d never felt that way before about anyone. My love for others ran deep. It didn’t take much for me to grow attached and form a connection with another human, but never like this. I couldn’t tell you when exactly it happened, but somewhere down the line, CJ’s happiness and my happiness became one and the same. I could feel him in every breath, every smile, every pinch of my heart - even if he was nowhere in sight. He’d somehow become linked to every part of myself, and it was scaring the daylights out of me.
The problem was, fear never held me back. If anything, fear fueled the fire. I’d never been a runner. It had come back to bite me in the ass more times than I could count, but I never regretted it. What I would regret was the not knowing. The endless stream of ‘what ifs’ that would always haunt me if I ran from pain instead of fighting through it.
Except this time was different; there was no denying that. I had a pattern. A pattern I hadn’t even noticed until now. All the times I’d fought through the fear, my heart was never really on the line. I’d fought for others, but how many times had I actually fought for myself? Truthfully, I couldn’t think of a single one. For days I’d been running through all the times in my past when I could remember standing on the edge of the battlefield, geared up and ready to die for someone else - metaphorically speaking. Taking a beating, verbal or otherwise, had bruised me, but never left any scars.
Because I’d never been personally invested in the outcome.
But now…
If CJ up and decided to go back to the way things were when he shut me down at every turn, it would shatter me. And I wasn’t happy to admit it, but for the first time, I worried picking up the fragments of a broken heart wouldn’t be so easy. Never the type to wallow over a boy, getting back up and putting myself back together had never been a problem. I’d always thought it was because I was strong, that I had enough love for myself not to put so much power into someone else’s hands. Now I wondered if I’d just never cared about anyone enough for them to truly hurt me.
A life without CJ… it was a life I could no longer fathom. Other than my sister, merely the idea of losing someone had never conjured up such an intense amount of fear. But Michelle and I were bonded for life. More than sisters, we were best friends. The only thing that would separate us was death, and until her asshole boyfriend beat the snot out of her, death just hadn’t seemed a possibility. Dying, losing loved ones; those felt like things that happened to other people. Seeing the bruises covering her body, even weeks after being released from the hospital, brought the reality home that life was fragile, short. Something to be cherished and held precious.
It was that reality that had me agreeing to Rose’s scheme to get CJ to open up. Seeing the pain in her eyes, hearing how earnestly she longed to see her son happy and whole again… Did I have any choice other than to help her? I could have found a job. I didn’t need one so badly that I was desperate. I’d agreed to the situation because I saw something in CJ that had me wanting to get closer to him, despite his efforts to push me away. Rose asking for my help only gave me a better excuse. I could pursue whatever the weird draw I felt towards CJ under the guise of doing it for someone else.
We were way past that excuse now. There was no denying that I was starting to have real feelings for CJ, the same man who’d been keeping everyone in his life at arm’s length for the past several years. Meaning I was falling for someone who could relapse at any second and decide to shut the world out again. To shut me out.
Laughter pulled me back to the present. Liam, Malcolm, Sebastian, CJ, Josi, Clara and myself were all circled around the fire we’d set up in Brady’s backyard. Brady was Sebastian’s younger brother and he had a house outside of the city that sat on a few acres of land. He’d lost his wife a few years back and had a young son named Ethan who was with his grandparents for the night. Michelle had disappeared inside the house with Brady, gathering more s’mores supplies since I’d wasted all the ones we’d already brought out.
“Seriously, I can roast a damn marshmallow,” I piped up when I heard my name.
“Babe,” CJ said patronizingly, but I didn’t care. The unexpected endearment overshadowed his condescension. “You already caught your sleeve on fire once, set fire to the grass several times and have marshmallow goop all over your hair and clothes. Let me do the part that involves fire from now on.”
None of what he said was an exaggeration. Still didn’t mean I wanted to be treated like a child.
I unfolded my arms, ignoring the stickiness from said marshmallows. The sugar was like freaking superglue. Parts of my skin and arm hair came off as I peeled them apart. It fracking hurt.
“Whatever, jerkface. I’m going to the bathroom,” I announced before storming off, turning back to stick out my tongue when everyone started laughing again.
“You’ve got a blob of marshmallow stuck to your ass!” Liam called out. He laughed harder when I flipped him off.
When I reached the back door, I slid the heavy glass to the side and stepped into Brady’s dining room. The house itself was smaller in size, but what it lacked in space, it made up for in warmth. Everywhere you looked, you saw life. Though Brady’s wife had died, her presence was still very much present. In photos that hung on walls and sat on the small fireplace mantle, in the handmade curtains on every window, in the almost threadbare crocheted blanket draped over the back of the couch. I suspected he did that for his son, Ethan. CJ had given me a little background when he’d invited me to Brady’s, explaining that Ethan was diagnosed with cancer shortly after his mother passed. I think he told me all of that information so that I would know it was a sensitive subject and not bring it up. Apparently he still had a lot to learn when it came to me and my inability to follow proper social protocols.
I’d driven separately from CJ. He had to work and I wanted to arrive early to help with anything Brady needed. If he was shocked or put out to find me there over an hour before everyone was due to arrive, he didn’t show it. He jumped right into giving me a tour of his home, and because we already know I’m nosey and know no boundaries, I quizzed him on his wife and Ethan the entire time. Went so far as to ask him to point out anything she’d touched that had significant memory for him. At first he seemed hesitant, his voice laced with the slightest hint of pain, like he was trying to hide it but unable to completely. But by the end, he was smiling brightly and talking animatedly. He’d ended the tour with a big, unexpected hug. When I returned his embrace, he whispered into my ear his thanks. Then he excused himself, and I made myself busy with preparing the food we planned to cook out, knowing he was probably feeling emotional and wanting space. By the time he reappeared, I already had the tomatoes and onions sliced, the hamburger patties and hot dogs on a big plate, ready to be taken to the grill and prepared, and the bags of chips poured into bowls.