by E. S. Carter
“No. It’s more than that. I thought I’d feel different afterwards. I thought it was the way things were supposed to go. I felt different, but not in a good way. I felt cold. Cold to my bones.” He hesitates before continuing, “The only time I don’t feel cold is…”
He doesn’t finish his thought, and his hands release mine allowing me to step away.
“All the wrong things are changing, Fflur. I don’t know how to stop them.”
He turns to face me, and I see the war of emotions play across his features. “I want things to go back to how they were. I want my dad to be healthy. I don’t want to leave here. I don’t think I even want to pursue the band. Fuck. This is all so messed up. I wish I’d never slept with Laurie. I wish things could be different. I feel weak. I want to be strong. I want to be fearless like you. You are unashamed of who you are. I want to be the same. I want—”
I step forward, place one hand on his chest and the other lifts to cup his face.
Our eyes lock and a million words of comfort flit through my brain and tickle my tongue. But I don’t say any of them. Instead, the words that leave my lips, sure, honest and true are, “I love you, Galen.”
Thunder booms overhead and electricity arcs through the sky as the first drops fall. The approaching storm bearing witness to my confession. “I don’t mean as a friend or an almost brother, I mean I’m in love with you. Totally and utterly.”
Galen’s eyes spark, and his mouth opens to reply but closes just as quickly.
Our clothes soak through, each of us stood immobile in the driving rain, the weight of my profession heavy and thick between us.
Guilt nips at my skin. What makes me think that telling Galen I love him when he is on the edge of breaking apart is a good idea? He’s dealing with all kinds of confusing shit in his life, and I drop that bombshell on him.
Maybe Emma was right. Maybe I’m not just a freak but a selfish one.
My love for Galen has grown like a delicate bud for many years, and I’ve kept it hidden, kept it safe. It wasn’t meant to be shared when his life is so upside down and his worries are firmly with his father.
Despite my conflicting emotions, a seed of hope plants firmly in my gut. I’ve told him the truth. He deserved it. He’s owed my honesty.
I love you, Galen.
I’ve loved you since forever.
I want you to kiss me so bad.
I want to wash away every single one of Laurie’s touches.
I blink, and a single tear joins the rain on my face. Worry replacing my hope at his silence.
“Fflur,’ he says eventually, his voice betraying the defeat he holds inside him.
I tug my hands away.
I was stupid to tell him that. Stupid and selfish.
I want to leave this place. I want to crawl back into my bed and forget I just offered him every part of me.
“Fflur, please don’t,” he begs. “It’s not as simple as saying what we feel inside. You know that.”
I didn’t expect those words.
I expected him to say he thought of me as his sister or a friend.
Silence stretches taut between us once more, and I want to push him for more, but my weak and fragile heart holds back, less brave than it was during my declaration moments ago.
“I need a friend right now,” he finally admits. “And you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
I nod in silence. The guilt I feel doubling and taking root under my skin. That seed of hope I held withers and dies. The delicate bloom of my professed love closing and turning away from Galen’s sun.
With one last look into his lawn green eyes, I turn and walk away. Leaving him standing in the rain, his feet sinking in the mud.
He needs a friend.
I need a flower.
I scan the grassy floor at my feet and see nothing. My legs carrying me faster towards the house.
Max is having surgery tomorrow. Galen needs me as a friend.
I can do that.
I can be that for him, and I’ll bury everything else where I should have kept it hidden.
I’ll tell my secrets, sins and loves to my flowers.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Leaving muddy puddles on the kitchen floor, I strip off my sodden jeans and throw them in the hamper. Thankfully, the shirt I’m wearing is oversized, and even when wet and sticking to every inch of my skin it still comes down to my knees.
I do all this with a frantic abandon, forgetful and uncaring of the others probably sleeping, and it’s no surprise when I finally reach the top of the stairs to find Rhys there, rubbing his sleep tired eyes.
I don’t know what it is, but the sight of my brother awake, having rushed out of bed because he heard someone in distress, is the crack that breaks the dam of my emotions. I whimper and fall into his arms, fitful sobs pouring from trembling lips.
The old Rhys wouldn’t have cared if the house was being burgled around him. This Rhys—this grown-up version—cared, and seemingly cared a lot.
“Shh,” he soothes as he pulls me into his arms and guides me to his bedroom. “Don’t cry, Flower. Everything is going to be alright.”
His easy acceptance of my crying leads me to believe he thinks I’m upset about Max’s surgery tomorrow, nothing more nothing less, and that makes me sob harder until his t-shirt is wet with my pain, guilt, grief, and shame.
He gathers me up, sets me down on his bed and passes me a tissue—I don’t even want to think about why he has a jumbo box of them on his bedside table. Rhys doesn’t suffer from colds, and I can’t imagine he’s a much of a crier—unlike me, it seems.
I wipe at my face until I feel my skin began to get red and sore, and when I’ve finally used up the last of my meagre energy, I lie down on his pillow and offer him a weak, “Sorry.”
“Is this about Max?” he asks concerned. “Because if it is, you shouldn’t worry. He’s got this.”
When I don’t say anything in return, he sits down next to me and questions awkwardly, “Or is this about Galen?”
My eyes snap up to his face, and he shrugs and adds, “I saw him just as wet as you at the foot of the stairs. You probably didn’t notice because of all—” He makes a circular motion with his pointer finger around my face. “—that.”
“It’s hard for him,” I croak through my tight throat. “He only has his dad.”
“He’s got Mum and us too,” he says simply, looking at me like I should know this already.
“I mean proper relatives. Blood. Family.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “Blood? Family? I didn’t peg you to be so judgmental of who or what is family, Sis. It doesn’t matter that we aren’t his blood. We’ve had two homes for a long time now, and Galen is our family, Fflur. You know it, I know it, and he knows it.”
Who is this strange, adult-like boy, and what has he done with my brother?
“When did you suddenly decide not to hate them all?”
“I never hated them.”
Now it’s my turn to snort. “You could’ve fooled me and everyone else. What’s changed?”
“Life, Fflur,” he says slightly exasperated with me, like he’s old enough to have figured out the meaning of it all, including the universe, and black holes, and quantum physics. And love and emotions. “Life changed. This is ours now. Besides—” he winks at me and gives a little smirk. “—you can’t choose your family so why should getting to choose Galen and Max be any different?”
I would have picked you, Fflur.
If I’m truthful with myself, that was the moment I allowed my heart to be honest with my head. It was the moment I stopped trying to bury my love for Galen and plastered over it with a band aid called ‘friendship’. In hindsight, his declaration was what eventually led me to tonight—the night I confessed I was in love with him. The night I gave him my immature heart and he gave it right back.
“I think you’re wrong,” I say, my fingers fussing with a loose thread on his covers. “I would’ve ch
osen them. Both of them. But you are right about one thing, this is our life now. Our family.”
Rhys accepts my response and turns serious. He brushes hair from my forehead, wipes the remaining wetness from my cheeks and promises, “Even when I’m not around, you know I’m here for you Fflur. Don’t you?”
His words drive straight into the ache in my chest.
Soon Rhys will leave for University, and Galen’s plans were to take a year out and work on the band, but will all that have changed now?
I must prepare myself to lose them both and be alone. It’s the natural progression of life. These boys I grew up with are now young men, and I soon will become a young woman.
We won’t be kids anymore.
We likely won’t live together anymore.
“Have you been accepted into your first choice uni?” I ask, knowing that Max’s illness has taken precedent over everything else, including the important news in each other’s lives.
“Yeah, I’m heading to Loughborough. They have a great sports department. I’ve been accepted on their Sports Science degree course.”
How did I not know this?
“Wow,” I say genuinely impressed, and I force a fake smile of excitement on my face. I mean, I’m proud of my brother, but this makes everything more real.
He’s leaving.
“That’s amazing, Rhys. Are you going into dorms?”
“Yeah,” he says excitedly. “I’m sure Mum will let you visit sometimes if I promise to look after you.”
“I’d like that,” I offer softly, my thoughts turning inward towards Galen.
Will he be leaving soon too?
Will I end up alone?
Max is home.
His operation deemed a success.
Mum and Galen hug—cwtch—in the doorway to their bedroom, watching as Max sleeps. Despite being allowed home, he’s still tired, still in need of care.
They turn to face Rhys and me, both their faces equally as worn out and weary as the other’s. Neither has eaten or slept well over the last few months. Both of them consumed with Max and his illness.
“Thanks,” Mum says as she walks towards us, guiding Galen out of the room. Her eyes land on each one of us, and a tear escapes her eye. She wipes it away with the pads of her fingers. “I love you all so so much. I’m proud of us all, what we have. Our family means the world to me, and Max.”
Her words are a magnet, and we knot together, arms encircling each other, into a brief group hug before Rhys and Mum head downstairs to make lunch.
I walk towards Max and Mum’s bedroom door just as Galen walks away towards the TV room. As I peek through the open doorway, the first sounds of Galen playing his guitar trickle through the air.
The melody is light, hopeful, and filled with life.
Max is tucked up underneath the bed covers, his eyes fluttering open to stare at the open window. When he hears Galen’s music, his eyes slide shut once more, and he smiles.
I look at the vase of white Anemones sitting on the windowsill—a flower that symbolizes, fragility, hope and get-well wishes—and without entering the room, I tell them about my day. I tell them about a strong, patient man, an enduring love, and the boy and woman that own his world.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rhys goes off to university, while Galen remains home, deciding to use his year off not to pursue the band but to spend time with his Dad. This means while Max recovers, Mum can return to work full-time.
Weeks fly by as I begin my first year of A-levels, and I quickly settle into the routine that school brings. Although my days are busy, my nights are not. They allow me too much time in my own head to think about all the changes in my life.
The men in my life seem to be forging their way ahead, embracing the future with open arms. Max is getting better, and Rhys seems to be embracing university life. Every time we talk on the phone, he seems… older somehow, more mature. It’s as though in only a few weeks away from home, he’s shed the immature skin of boyhood, and turned into a man.
And then there’s Galen—he’s happier. Almost back to the boy I first met.
He’s never brought up that night at the brook, but he hasn’t changed how is with me either. We still go for drives in his car, we still climb the mountains looking for late blooms, and he still leaves random flowers outside my bedroom door like he did when we were younger.
A handful of times, he’s even crept into my bed when he’s had trouble sleeping, and I’ve let him. I’ve let him take comfort in our friendship.
Because that’s all it is and can ever be. Despite the gnawing ache in my heart.
Rhys has come home for Mum’s birthday. There’s no big party this year, just us gathering together to celebrate at home as a family.
While Mum unpacks the huge variety of take-out boxes and Max pours wine for all of us, Galen strums quietly on his guitar at Mum’s request.
“Play my favourite,” she begs, and all thoughts of eating are gone as we each get sucked into Galen’s performance.
His head lifts almost shyly before he smiles at her with that heart-breaking, audience captivating, grin of his, and the first notes of The Pretenders, I’ll Stand By You drift across the room. Then, he sings, and everything fades away.
His tone is low, rich, and burrows into my belly, thrumming through my blood, and skittering across my senses.
Galen, like all the great musicians before him, doesn’t just sing a song, he lives it. He pours every ounce of himself into the words, the melody and the emotions both evoke, and I’ve come to realise that music is to him what flowers are to me.
The song ends, the last note vibrating in the air keeping us all locked in the moment, only for it to be cut off by Max clearing his throat and saying, “We have some news.”
“Great news,” Mum adds, unable to contain her emotions any longer, her hand finding Max’s shoulder as he brings his up to lace his fingers through hers.
“My doctor said the treatment and the op did it. I’ve got the all clear. I’m cancer free.”
Galen all but throws his guitar and dives from his chair.
“You’re okay? Everything is okay?”
He charges at his father and tackle-hugs him so hard that it’s a miracle Max braces himself enough to remain seated.
Over his son’s shoulder, with his arms wrapped tightly around Galen, he says, “Everything is more than okay.”
We let the moment sink in, each of us erupting into broad smiles and relieved looks.
“Tell everyone your news, Gal,” Mum says, leaning down to kiss both of them on the side of their heads. “Let’s make this a birthday to remember.”
“What news?” I ask to his back, as he slowly removes himself from his father’s embrace and stands, unable to make eye contact with me.
“It’s nothing, really. Dad’s news is what we should focus on today.”
“It’s not nothing, Gal,” Max scolds lightly. “It’s equally as important. This could be a once in a lifetime opportunity for you.”
Galen’s eyes finally flick to mine, and I see everything he’s trying to hide.
He’s leaving.
“I—” he breaks eye contact with me and looks at the grinning face of my mother instead. “I’ve been offered a place on a U.K. tour for an up and coming band that’s getting a lot of buzz. Just an early support slot, nothing major.”
“Nothing major,” Rhys butts in with a snort. “Gal, man, that’s bloody huge.”
Galen shrugs, still looking at everyone else but me.
I know my voice is flat when I ask, “When do you leave?” But I don’t have my emotions under control enough to inject any fake cheer.
This time he looks at me, really looks at me and replies, “A couple of weeks.”
“How long have you known?”
“A couple of weeks. And I haven’t accepted yet. I was waiting for Dad to get his results, but seeing as…” His voice trails off.
Seeing as Max is healthy, there
’s nothing left to keep him here.
“I’ll be back at Christmas for a few days,” he offers in a weak consolation.
I blink and force myself to breathe. It wouldn’t do anyone any good for me to lose it right here and now. My stomach twists with the force I use to control my emotions, and I have the feeling I’m seconds away from throwing up.
“I’m happy for you,” I offer quietly, my lips refusing to curve into any semblance of a smile despite my attempts. “I think I need to use the toilet before we eat.”
Then I’m gone, rushing from the room, bypassing the toilet and flinging the door open wide to run outside.
I need air. I need to be able to breathe.
Galen is seconds behind me, calling my name, asking me to wait. When he finally catches up, I’m leaning against the cold brick wall around the corner of the garden, tucked away from prying eyes. I can’t bear to face him.
“I’m sorry, Fflur. I wanted to tell you. I wasn’t expecting Mum to blurt it out like that.”
“I know.” I’m referring to him not expecting it, and not whether he was ever going to tell me.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” he asks quietly. “I know it’s cold but—”
“Yeah, actually I do.” I twist my head to finally look at him, and the hurt on his face likely mirrors mine. The difference is, I didn’t cause his pain. “Just not with you.”
When I return a while later, I find food left warming for me in the oven and a note from Mum to say her and Max were shattered and having an early night.
The living room and kitchen are empty, and despite the house rules of no food in our bedrooms, I take the plate filled with takeout, grab a drink from the fridge, and wearily make my way up to my room.
It’s not until I’ve set my plate and drink on my desk, and turned to close my door that I see it.
A note, folded in half and left under my door. With my hands full, I must have stepped right over it.
I’m so sorry, Fflur.