by Hughes, Maya
Shoving more cookie into my mouth, I stalled. I’d been lured by sweets right into a trap.
“It’s always been hard for him living in your shadow.” She put in another tray of cookies and closed the oven. “And I didn’t help things.” Her shoulders sagged.
“It’s not your fault, Mom.”
Her lips curled into a small smile. “That’s exactly whose fault it is. When your dad left…” She put her hands on the counter and dropped her head. “When he left, keeping busy was the only way I kept myself from falling apart, and what will make you busier than ever? Being a hockey mom. All the games and the practices and everything else that went along with it. I threw myself into it because it was what I needed to keep my mind off your father.
“But it came at a cost. Your brother was always the tagalong. He didn’t get to do a lot of things because I couldn’t be in two places at once, so he got shunted off to the sidelines to make room for your schedule and my fear of slowing down.” She let out a deep sigh.
“Did he tell you why he was upset?” I swallowed past the lump in my throat.
She shook her head. “Not exactly, but I have an idea. He told me it had to do with you, about always coming in second to you.”
“How’d I not realize he felt that way until now?”
“Because you’re living your life. You’re out there doing your own thing, making your own mistakes, blazing your own path. I want you to know this will pass. He’ll be okay.”
“I need to talk to him.”
“Yes, you do. I love you, and I want you to be happy—both of you.” She walked around the island and hugged me, kissing me on the cheek. “And I want Olivia to be happy too.”
I choked on the cookie in my mouth.
“I’m not blind, you know.” She waved her spatula in my direction.
“Mom—”
“I’ve seen both of you with her, and it doesn’t compare. There’s a spark there you can’t hide—maybe from other people, but not from me, honey.” She ran her hand along my cheek. “I know how rare that kind of connection is.”
“It doesn’t mean I can hurt Grant that way. He’s always had a crush on her.”
“A playground crush isn’t the same as true chemistry and you know it. Don’t worry about him. He’ll figure things out, and you’ll be happy to know, I took back your key.” She winked at me. “I need to get things ready for dinner. Do you want some risotto?”
The knot I’d had in my stomach eased up the slightest bit. Maybe the cookie had unlocked it with some magic powers. “Sure.”
The timer dinged on the oven, and she took out the next tray of baked goodness.
“Hey, Sylvia—” Liv came to an abrupt stop in the doorway to the kitchen. The smile dropped off her face the second her gaze landed on mine.
“Olivia, come in! I’m so glad you’re here.” Mom spun from the counter, sliding the cookies onto the cooling rack, then giving Liv a bear hug.
“I can see you’re busy. I’ll come back later.” Liv backed away.
“Busy? No, I invited you over.” Mom’s hand waved away Liv’s concerns and tugged her into the room. “I’m just talking with Ford.”
Liv’s gaze darted to mine. My heart thundered in my chest. Had it only been a week since I’d seen her? Heard her voice? It felt like a hell of a lot longer than that. The days had stretched out in front of me in a long winding path without her, and I didn’t have a map.
She broke our connection and stood beside my mom at the stove.
“I need to run upstairs and help out one of the teachers who’s shorthanded during lunch. Can you stir this risotto, Liv? I figured you’d be sick and tired of sandwiches every time you came by. Keep stirring until the stock is incorporated and then put in another half cup and do it again. You can’t stop stirring or it’ll ruin it.” Mom turned to me and handed over the spatula. “And Ford, can you finish the cookies?”
Liv’s mouth hung open, then snapped shut. “Sure, Sylvia.” The muscles in her neck jumped. Her hand clasped the wooden spoon in the pot, and she tightened her grip around it like she might snap it at any second. Turning her back to me, she stirred the pot like a portal into hell might open if she stopped.
Mom dropped a hand on my shoulder, nodded toward Liv, and then she was gone. She wasn’t pissed, hadn’t been the least bit angry. Maybe her heart-to-heart with Grant had helped calm him down.
I’d call him as soon as I left. Picking up the mini ice cream scoop, I stood beside her and dropped dough balls onto the cookie sheet.
Her stirring slowed when I reached into the bowl for another scoop.
The timer dinged, and I picked up the cookie sheet. “I told Colm we need to talk when he gets back.”
Liv stepped back and leaned forward to keep up her stirring as I opened the oven. The heat blast from inside washed over both of us. I slipped in the new tray on a lower shelf and took out the finished one, sliding it onto the stove beside the pot Liv stirred. My shoulder brushed against hers.
She swallowed, her throat tightening. “To talk about whatever’s come between you two?”
“That’s part of it, and also to talk about you.”
The spoon jerked in her hand, and a few grains of rice shot out of the pot. She grabbed a towel and wiped up the mess.
“Why me?” Her gaze stayed riveted to the whirling rice and broth.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Whether there’s an us or not, I need to tell him how I feel about you.”
“That’s a terrible idea. Why make this worse?” The spoon in her hand thunked against the side of the pot, beating out a steady rhythm. “It’s bad enough that Grant got hurt and I’ve come between you two. I don’t want you sacrificing your relationship with Colm too for something we both agreed was a mistake.”
“I never said it was a mistake.” Stepping in behind her, I grabbed the ladle from the pot on the back burner and poured another cup of stock onto the rice. “Do I wish things had happened differently? Yes, but don’t ever think I look back on that night and think it was a mistake.”
Taking her free hand in my own, I laced our fingers together. She didn’t pull back or jerk away. Maybe we could still fix this.
28
Liv
I stood in front of the wall of mirrors like I had hundreds of times. Sweat dripped down my face as I pushed myself harder and harder. The chill in the air was washed away when my body had hit its limit. The dance studio was the only thing that could bring me out of a funk, but this wasn’t a mood brought on by a bad exam grade or the pressure I put on myself about following the path I’d been set on. This was a crushing pain that seeped down deep into my bones.
Ford’s words rang in my head. I’d bolted the second Sylvia got back to the kitchen, making my escape. Disentangling his fingers from mine had been like unstitching a part of my soul, but I couldn’t breathe when he was so close. I’d closed the door in her shocked face and ran two blocks before ordering a car to come get me. I couldn’t go back there. What if Sylvia found out what had happened between me and Ford and Grant and she kicked me out of her life?
I mourned the loss of the refuge in her house. That was what I got, right? That was my penance for crossing a line I’d known would cause problems. I’d been so blinded by Ford’s touch and the need to feel him.
Frustration mounting, I packed up my stuff. With my bag over my shoulder, I walked back to my apartment, trying to lose myself in equations and chemical reactions. Those were easy to understand after a good ninety hours of studying. Another cold snap had hit, and I tightened the collar of my coat as I rounded the corner to my apartment.
I dug my hand into my pocket and looped my finger through my key ring. Pulling it out, I ran through the problem sets I needed to complete tonight. My keys glinted in the fading light, and I looked up. A shock shot straight through me and I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore. My keys dropped to the ground. I stood back up, I froze as a figure sitting on the front steps of my buildin
g stood. The small panic faded away, replaced by a knot in my stomach. His long, lanky limbs were unmistakable even in the shadow of the setting sun. My heart pounded in my chest, and I swallowed back the guilt welling in my throat.
“Hey, Liv.” Grant stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets. His cheeks and nose were red from the lip-blistering winter air.
“How long have you been sitting out here?”
His gaze dropped. “Long enough.”
“Why didn’t you call me to tell me you were coming?”
“I figured you’d probably look for any chance to get out of seeing me, kind of like the dance you’ve been doing for the past two years.” A pained look shot across his face.
The muscles in my neck tightened. I blinked back the tears building in my eyes. The hurt in his eyes that morning slashed at me. “I’m really sorry. I want you to know that. There’s a lot I wish I could change, and hurting you is at the top of that list.” I squeezed my lips together.
His face softened. “Can we walk?” He took his hands out of his pockets and held one arm out to the sidewalk.
“Why don’t we go inside? It’s freezing.” I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets.
His gaze swung up to my building. “I’m good with walking, if you are?” He turned back to me with the streetlights catching the uncertainty in his eyes.
I nodded and fell in stride beside him. We walked in silence for a couple blocks. Every few steps, I’d glance over at him, trying to figure out why he’d shown up. The texts I’d sent him had gone unanswered, but he didn’t seem angry now. He turned the corner, and I fidgeted with the buttons of my coat.
Looking up, I froze, coming face-to-face with the chain-link fence.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Saw it on the map. I had a little time to kill while I waited.” He walked inside the playground, going right over to the swings and sitting on the hard plastic seat swaying in the wind.
I followed him and sat on the one beside him. The chains rattled as I plopped down on the freezing-cold seat.
He wrapped his fingers around the chains and angled himself sideways. “These things are a lot smaller than I remember.” He shifted, trying to fit his lanky body into the seat.
The gentle sound of the links of the chains rubbing against each other as our swings swayed back and forth added a soundtrack to the evening air.
“You’ve grown a lot since the last time we sat on these.”
He pinched his lips together and nodded before taking a big breath. “I wanted to apologize.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I rushed out.
“No, I do—”
“Please—”
“Stop interrupting, Liver.” He looked up at me and smiled a little more.
“Sorry.” I pushed my feet off the ground, swinging back and forth.
“When I saw you at Ford’s—” He broke off and swallowed, staring down at his hand. “I lost it.”
I resisted the urge to apologize again, and let him say what he needed to say.
“But you don’t owe me anything just because I like you. Just because I’ve always liked you doesn’t mean you have to. I’m not one of those ‘nice guy’ assholes who turns on a dime the second his feelings aren’t returned.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t, but that’s how I felt. I was so angry at both of you, so hurt.”
The pain in his voice frayed the edges of my resolve, and I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut when he looked up at me.
“But that was as much to do with me as it was with you two. I knew you didn’t feel the same way about me that I felt about you. I’ve known that since the first day on the playground when I gave up my swing to you and you hugged me. I’ll admit, I totally went for it after Declan’s wedding when I saw my opening. Ford hurt you, and I thought maybe then I’d have my shot to show you how good we could be together, but I knew from the first kiss, it wasn’t lighting you up like it did for me.”
My throat tightened, and I blinked back the moisture in my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “It’s not like I can force you to care about me.”
My hand shot out, and I grabbed his arm. “I do care about you. Of course I do.”
“Just not that way.”
I stared into his eyes. No more hiding. No more half-truths. I shook my head and dropped my gaze to the frozen wood chips on the ground. “It would have been so much easier if I did.”
He let out a chuckle. “Tell me about it, for you and me both. Then I wouldn’t have to do this grand gesture of giving you two my blessing.”
My head snapped up, and I stared at him wide-eyed.
“Not that you need it. I mean, you don’t need my permission for whatever you do, but I wanted you to know I’m okay—” He took a deep breath. “I’ll be okay. Just please don’t start making out in front of me.” He laughed, but the undercurrent of pain was there. “I’m nowhere near ready for that yet.”
“Thank you, Grant.” I got up and hugged him. “I appreciate it, I really do, but I don’t think it makes a difference.” My words were muffled by his shoulder.
He jerked back. “Why not?”
“Because I made my decision. I’m going to go to med school, and I need a clean break. I need to start over without all these threads to my childhood I’ve been trying to hold on to. Maybe I’ll go to California or Chicago. I kind of shoehorned myself into Colm’s life, taking over his friends and coming back to Philly, and then I’m pissed when he keeps trying to dictate what I do. I need to stop deferring to him and show him that I’m an adult. I need to stop trying to say the words and actually do it.”
“I hear you when it comes to constantly living in the wake of someone else’s life.”
We swung for a few more minutes as the sun set, sending streaks of light through the gaps between the buildings.
“While this has been fun, I need to get inside before my balls actually fall off my body. It’s freezing.” Grant hopped off the swing.
“How long were you waiting outside?”
He squeezed the back of his neck. “Too long. If I’d known how long it would be, I’d have taken one of your neighbors up on letting me sit inside the stairwell, but I figured finding me on your doorstep would be more dramatic.” He bumped into my shoulder.
I laughed and we walked back to my apartment. On the front steps of my building, I fixed the collar of his coat.
“Thanks for coming to talk to me.” I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Thanks for being a friend.” He squeezed me tight, dropping his head into the crook of my neck before straightening up. “I know you said things were done with you and Ford, but he really cares a lot about you. He’s beat himself up about that one for a while. I figured he’d never make a move from how much he’d always fought against it.”
“Sometimes you fight against things because you know how big of a problem they can be if you give in.”
“I’m not standing in the way anymore.”
“It’s not just you.”
Grant’s lips thinned into line. “Right, Colm.”
“And if I’m trying to prove to him I’m not a kid anymore, falling back into middle-school-crush mode isn’t going to help my case. I’ll talk to him when he gets back.”
“Good luck.” Grant waved and walked off down the street.
Climbing the steps to my apartment, I dropped everything the second I stepped inside. The place was quiet. I peered through Marisa’s cracked bedroom door. She’d passed out in her bed surrounded by flash cards. Her desk light flickered, so I unplugged it. Small char marks were burned on the outlet. That was the third time this month. I wasn’t moving and giving Colm the satisfaction of being right about this place. Making a mental note to send a message to the landlord about all the stuff that was always on the fritz, I tiptoed to my room.
I changed into my pajamas, and while my bed called my name, I opened up my laptop. Firing up the spread
sheet of med schools Colm had sent me almost a year earlier, I stared at the screen. My fingers hovered over the keys. Before I could second guess myself, I deleted every choice listed. A blank slate. My stomach knotted as I pulled up the med school rankings and I filled out the sheet again.
Another seven (or more) years of school. I could do it. How many people would kill to be in the position I was in? I had the chance to become a doctor. I’d worked hard for the grades. I’d worked my ass off and sacrificed every spare minute I could, consistently sitting down and burying myself in the books.
It doesn’t make you happy. Well, happiness is overrated.
Happiness had gotten me into this mess. After what had happened to my parents, you’d think I’d have learned happiness was an illusion. I’d been so happy for a spare ten minutes to actually speak with my parents. I’d been happy for one kiss from Ford. I’d been happy with one night in his bed. Maybe that was all I got, little glimpses to keep me going.
Saving lives could make me happy. It was important work. What was more important than holding someone’s life in your hands? How long could I really make it as a dance instructor, anyway? Which made more sense in the long run? What was more stable and sensible? Of course it was medicine. It felt like a mistake right now, but in time I’d see it was the right choice. The long hours in the hospital would be more than enough to keep me company. Go in for a thirty-six-hour shift, help people, pass out as soon as I got home, rinse and repeat.
It was time to stop running from the future that had been laid out in front of me. I needed to prove to myself, my parents, and Colm that I could do this. Happiness could come later, and I just had to hope when Ford found someone who didn’t come with the baggage I did, I could swallow that suffocating pain of seeing his hands on someone else, plaster on a smile, and be happy for him.
29
Ford