by Beth Michele
“Goodnight, Evie,” he murmurs, and then he disappears, leaving me to wonder if this is all a dream.
Because if it is, it’s the best damn dream I’ve ever had.
I WAKE UP to the sound of Jordy’s voice, he’s talking with Gran in the hallway. It sounds like Gran wants to help at the diner today and he’s giving her a hard time. But he won’t win, so he might as well give it up.
Of course, I instantly think of Evie. And nothing, not even the fact that I have to work today can wipe the smile from my face or the two words that keep playing over and over in my head like the most beautiful song.
So don’t.
There was something in her eyes and the weight of her words. I wasn’t imagining it. At least, I don’t think I was. No matter, I’m done wasting time. I’m also through listening to the words of a man who never loved me and had no value in my life. I’m going after what I want. And I want Evie.
God, that mouth. Those crescent-shaped lips. When her tongue darted out to moisten them, I thought I might lose my shit. I take in a breath and let it out slowly. It’s bad enough I woke up with morning wood. This is only making it worse.
“Hey, you awake?” Jordy cracks the door open and I scramble to hide my growing erection. He may be my brother, but still, there are some things he doesn’t need to witness.
“Yeah.” I sit back, pulling a hand through my hair. “What’s up?”
“Maybe I should ask you the same thing?” He chuckles, coming to stand next to the bed.
“Very funny. You and Gran arguing?”
“Nah. She’s decided to stay another few days and wants to come help at the diner so she can at least have some time with us, even if it’s on the clock.” He huffs out an agitated breath. “She’s so stubborn.”
“Yeah, I know all about that. I’m surrounded by stubborn women.” I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands as he leans in for a better view.
“Man, Dylan, you’ve got black rings under your eyes. You look wiped. Late night?”
“Nah, not really.” I scratch the stubble on my chin and nod toward the bed. “Sit down for a second.”
“What?” His dark brown hair sticks up as if he’s been pulling at it, and he’s got the same dark circles under his eyes that I have.
“So listen,” I crack my knuckles, wanting to pose this the right way, “I’ve been thinking about something… I don’t know… maybe… we should consider selling the diner?”
“No.” And just like that, the joking between us is apparently over. His firm tone leaves little room for discussion and my chest tightens.
“That’s it? You won’t even talk about it.”
“Listen, Dylan. If you want out, just say so and I’ll hire someone else. But selling off the family business? The answer is no, and it’s final.” He doesn’t even flinch, or have a moment of hesitancy, which I don’t understand. His dreams are bigger than this. He wants to be a mechanical engineer. That drafting table in his room has been gathering dust for years and it eats away at me like poison dripping on my insides—because he’s that good. He deserves so much more. Hell, maybe we both do.
“What about your engineering degree?” There’s a flicker of what looks like regret in his eyes. His lips drag down into a frown, but he quickly recovers.
I take a deep breath, and try to figure out where I want to go with this conversation and what the hell I want to do with my life. Evie was right. I do feel selfish for wanting things or even thinking about myself. My parents are gone, and Jordan is keeping it all together for us. He always has, and I’m indebted to him, whether I like it or not.
“Listen,” he stares out the window unable to look my way, “this was Mom and Dad’s dream and I… I can’t do it. I won’t.”
“No,” I correct him, “this was Dad’s dream. Apparently Mom had a different dream.”
His glance comes back to mine, filled with a hardened confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you know that Mom wanted to be a dancer? That she got into Julliard?”
“Where did you hear that?” he questions, as if he doesn’t believe me.
“Gran.” I rub the skin on my arm, choosing my next words carefully. “I don’t know, Jordy. Even though I was kind of young, well… Mom never seemed happy to me. Didn’t you ever notice?” He doesn’t answer, only shrugs, looking to a spot over my shoulder. “Well, maybe one of the reasons she wasn’t happy was because she gave up her dream… for Dad. She loved you, Jordy. How do you think she’d feel if she knew you were doing the exact same thing?”
He stands up, showing me his back and huffing out a disgruntled sigh. “This discussion is over, Dylan. I’ll see you at the diner.” He closes the door and I sit here, stunned.
I saw the look in his eyes. It’s not over. Not by a long shot.
Who knows? Maybe this is my way of paying him back for everything he’s done for me—to remind him he has a dream, and to never let him give up on it.
The smell of bacon drifting up from the kitchen distracts my cluttered mind and my stomach rumbles so I can no longer ignore it. Since it’s still pretty early, I decide to forego the shower until after I’ve eaten. I heave my legs over the side of the bed and snag the t-shirt hanging on my desk chair, then grab a pair of sweats from the drawer.
I can hear Grandma Molly whistling as I head down, the sound growing louder with my impending hunger. She’s listening to an oldies radio station and wearing her Grandma is the Bomb apron that Jordy and I bought for her birthday several years ago.
“Nice apron, Gran.”
“Good morning!” She sets two plates on the table. “I hope you’re hungry because I made my specialty.”
“Eggs benedict, you did not?” I tease, opening the fridge and digging around for the orange juice carton. It’s a challenge to find now that she stocked our fridge with food, not that I’m complaining.
I pry it from behind a bag of lemons and am about to take a drink when she snatches it from my hand, waggling her finger in front of my face.
“Dylan,” she pushes her spectacles up on her nose, “there is a reason why glasses were invented. And while I’m here, you will use them.” I chuckle and open the cabinet, removing two and placing them on the table so she can fill them both with juice. She flips the eggs benedict from the pan onto our plates and follows with a couple slices of bacon.
“This looks delicious. Thanks, Gran.”
“You’re welcome.” She shakes her napkin out and drops it onto her lap. “Now, how did last night go with your angel?”
I’m sure my answering grin makes it obvious. “It was… nice.” I take a bite of eggs, the buttery taste rolling around on my tongue. “To be honest, I was having a rough night and well, she made it a lot better.” I set my fork down with a sigh. “She centers me, Gran.”
“I know. And I’m glad you have her.” She bites down on a piece of bacon with an approving smile. “By the way, I mentioned this to Jordan. I’m making dinner tomorrow night for the two of you and I want you to invite Evie and even Braden if you like. I think Jordan might invite someone as well.”
“Okay.” I pick my fork back up, but it doesn’t quite make it to my mouth. “So, I brought up selling the diner to Jordy this morning and he got very defensive.”
“Well,” she says after taking a sip of juice, “it was a bit out of the blue, wasn’t it? That’s the kind of thing you need to prep him for, and then slowly let him get used to the idea.”
“Yeah. I suppose it was. But I got to thinking about some things you and Evie said, and, I don’t know,” I shrug, “I guess I didn’t expect such a negative reaction.”
“Dylan.” She dabs the napkin against her mouth, pausing to gather her thoughts. “Jordan is the oldest, and as the oldest, I’m sure he feels a greater sense of responsibility. Plus….” There’s hesitation in her voice, and I don’t wait for her next words. Because I already know what she’s going to say.
“It’s okay, Gran. You can say it.�
�� I toss my napkin on to the plate since I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. “He was closer to Mom and Dad than I was. His relationship with them was entirely different. Or maybe I should say, he had one,” I mumble under my breath.
“Oh, Dylan,” she says with apology, but she has nothing to be sorry about. She never really knew. Plus, she was there for me more than my own parents were.
“I’m fine, really.” And I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince more. “I’ll just stick it out until I can find another way. I certainly don’t want to leave Jordan high and dry. Not after everything he’s done for me.” I push my chair back and carry my plate to the sink.
“You didn’t eat anything, dear,” she scolds in a sympathetic tone, and I stop in the doorway and turn back.
“I’m not that hungry, after all. I’m gonna shower and then I want to stop over and see Evie. I’ll meet you at the diner.” Her expression falters so I double back and kiss her cheek. “Thanks, Gran.”
MY FINGERS ROLL over the scratchy surface of the worn penny and I let out a dreamy exhale thinking about last night. I don’t want to let go. Neither do I, Dylan.
The memory of his warm breath against my skin has my heart doing a tap dance. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be kissed by anyone so badly in my entire life. The proximity of our bodies had my pulse racing so fast, I’m surprised I didn’t pass out.
“Hey, you decent?” Zoey’s shrill whisper startles me as I stare at the penny, only seeing the little boy with the dimpled smile.
“Ooooh, what’s that?” I saw something sticking up out of the mud and leaned in to get a closer look. I reached down to grab it from a clump of mud. “Cool! Look, Dills,” I held it up, “it’s a lucky penny.”
“It’s more like a muddy penny.” He giggled. “What are you gonna do with it? It’s gross.” He scrunched up his face. “Who knows how many people’s feet have stepped all over that thing?”
“So what? I’ll wash it. There’s something about this penny. It’s going to be very lucky for me,” I said, smiling big and flipping it between my fingers, drops of mud and dirt staining my nails.
“I don’t think coins bring people luck, Evie. I think people make their own luck,” he said, and when I frowned he gave me a funny look. “Okay, Okay. Give it to me.”
I handed him the penny and he wiped it on his white baseball shirt until it was a little bit shiny.
“You see,” he held it up in front of my face, “now that the mud is gone, maybe you’ve got a shot at the luck.” He smiled with that dimple of his, and I did too.
“Evie.” It takes me a second to realize Zoey is still at the door when I finally turn to acknowledge her.
“Hey, stranger. Where have you been?” I tuck the penny safely away in its purple pouch and place it back in my drawer.
“I left you that note on the fridge. We had training for all the concierges this week, so I’ve had to be at the hotel for double shifts.” She falls back on the bed with a groan. “It sucks.”
“I bet.” I plop down next to her, tugging on the sleeve of her uniform. “I hope you washed this thing,” I tease. “I’m kind of smelling some BO.”
She lifts up her arm and breathes in through her nose. “You probably do, and you know what? They can kiss my ass while they inhale. I’m so freaking tired they’re lucky I’m coming in at all.”
“You tell ‘em. Besides, they can’t fire you for smelling bad, can they?”
“Who knows?” She laughs. “It’s the hotel business.” She pushes herself up on her elbows and stares at me.
“What?”
“Hey, so are you all right?” There’s a sudden shift in her demeanor and she’s talking to me like I’m fragile now. “The other night. I haven’t seen you like that since after Mom and Dad died, and I’ll be honest, Evie, it scared me. That’s why I called Dylan. I knew you needed him.”
There’s that word again. Even the idea of it makes my chest seize up with fear. I can’t need Dylan that way. I just can’t. I refuse to need anyone that way again. But a part of me knows it’s too late—because I still want him. And while the want takes up so much room in my heart, there’s a fine line and I’m not sure I know how to separate the two.
“I appreciate you calling him, really I do, but I wish you hadn’t.” I lie back, lacing my hands behind my head while I stare blankly at the ceiling.
“Why not?”
“Because… I can’t afford to need him like that. Because I’m afraid—”
“You’ll lose him, too?”
Hearing her say it out loud is enough to send flares of panic through every cell in my body, crushed by an overwhelming anxiety.
I manage a nod and she places a gentle hand on my shoulder. “That’s not going to happen, Evie. You have to stop thinking like that… please.”
“I don’t know if I can. Anyway, I don’t want you to worry. I’m good now.” I bite down on my lower lip, then release it. “I had a nightmare and it seemed so real, like I was there… watching it all.” I touch a hand to my thigh, dread rising to the surface.
Her brows dip low on her forehead and she frowns. “I miss them so much, you know.”
I look away from her then and stare at a spot on the bookshelf, my voice barely audible. “They wouldn’t have been in the car that night if it hadn’t been for me.”
“Evie.” She pulls on my sleeve, forcing me to meet her eyes. “Don’t do that. It’s not your fault. It’s just something that… happened, out of our control. And you know Mom and Dad wouldn’t want you blaming yourself. They would want you to keep living, and be happy.”
A somber smile edges her lips. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, E, but I’m so glad you didn’t go that night. I’m not sure I would have made it through if I’d lost you, too.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here and you’re stuck with me.” Guilt wriggles its way up my throat again but I force it back down, somehow managing to keep it at bay.
Seemingly satisfied with my response, her smile returns and she slides off the bed. “Good. All right,” she takes a quick glance at the clock as she straightens her shirt, “back to the grind.” I follow her out of the room and she stops so abruptly I almost slam into her. “How’s DW?”
“You mean Dylan?” I shoot her a glare to go with my tone. “He’s good, why?”
“Just curious.” She grins, then bounds away, calling back, “Geez, I almost forgot, you have a visitor. I’ll catch you later.”
Little pricks of excitement cover my skin. Dylan. I come down the stairs, delighted about my mysterious visitor, and the first thing I see are red converse attached to legs swinging over the side of a chair. “Nora?”
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” She giggles, and I yank on her multi-colored ponytail as I walk by.
“Are we back in fourth grade?” I settle onto the ottoman and snatch the Tic-Tacs out of her hand, shaking them like a maraca. My eyes hone in on the label where pink and white candies are floating in the air. “Strawberry Fields. New flavor?”
“Yup,” she grins, “and guess who I ran into at the store just now when I bought them?”
“No idea.”
“Harold Klepmeier.” She winces when she says it like something bad crawled into her mouth and she’s anxious to get it out.
“Harold Klepmeier.” I repeat his name as the fond memories start pouring in. “And how is good old Harold?”
“Exactly the same,” she reveals, circling a hand in the air. “He was going on and on about himself and the fact that he’s on his way to getting his law degree.” She swivels her legs back onto the ottoman. “And do you know what I was doing while he was droning on and on?”
“No, what?”
Mischief surrounds the creases of her eyes. “I was doing eeny, meenie, miny, mo about which Tic-Tacs I should purchase.” We both laugh and she adds, “He didn’t miss a beat, though, kept right on talking. Too bad I wasn’t listening.”
My stomach t
wists briefly when the memory hits me. “Do you remember how he always
used to call me ‘Brace Face,’ or how he thought I had an eating disorder because I was so skinny?”
“Yeah, well, he’s still an asshole. A major one.”
The twist in my stomach becomes more of a colorful swirl. “You know what’s funny,
though? As awkward as I felt growing up, I was happy. You, Dylan, my parents, you always made me feel… accepted.”
She points to the Tic-Tacs and I hand them over. “That’s because you were awesome. Still are.”
I blow her a kiss and she catches it in her fist. “It’s funny how no one wanted to pay attention to me when I was a weed, but once I started becoming a flower, they all wanted to stop and take a whiff.”
Nora laughs a little, twirling her ponytail around her finger. “That’s quite an analogy.”
“It’s true, though, but at that point the only people I cared about were the ones who loved me when I was a weed.” I cluck my tongue against my teeth. “Like you.”
She reaches behind her for a pillow and tosses it at my face. “That’s because I was a weed, too. And us weeds have to stick together.”
“We sure do.” I giggle as I squeeze the pillow, bunching it under my chin. “So, how’s your mom?”
“She’s good.” She piles her ponytail on top of her head, a tiny furrow appearing between her brows. “When I left she was working in the garden. She’s been acting a bit weird lately.”
“Weird, how?” I turn to face her and her eyes sail upward in thought. “Hmph. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is. But I know something’s going on. That’s what my psychic powers tell me anyway. Like right now.” Pausing to examine me, she gazes at my face with intense focus. “My powers are telling me that there’s a reason you’re glowing.”
“I’m not glowing,” I protest, even though my cheeks are warm and the pink is spreading to my ears. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Okay, so humor me. Tell me about my ridiculousness.” The smirk on her lips is a tell-tale sign. She knows she has me cornered.