by Angel Lawson
“You do have something to offer.” Her hand squeezes mine.
“And that’s why you’re not a burden on me, but…”
“But what?” Her face pales.
“But I like you so much,” I swallow, ready to bear it all, “love you so much. And those old insecurities bang into me like a battering ram. That voice. My mother’s voice calling me stupid. The kids at school making fun of me. Girls, like Christina, just wanting something from me. Something easy, but not the mess underneath. And there you were, beautiful, kind, amazing. I don’t know. I got it into my head that I wasn’t worthy of you and that I needed to prove myself to you by being successful, so much so that I pushed you away. Then, once all the pieces clicked together, the ones you helped me put together…I didn’t know how to take it all back. Proving how stupid I actually am.”
“Stop calling yourself stupid,” she says, touching my cheek. “And do you know how proud I am of you? For all of it—everything you just said? You never took the easy way out, Jake. You fought every step of the way.”
I exhale, just glad she didn’t leave after that revelation. “Besides your help, I only got to where I am by shutting everything out and focusing on my goals. Unfortunately, at the end, I did that to you, too.”
“I wish you’d told me what was going on. I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”
Ouch. That’s hard to hear and the complete opposite of the truth. “It’s hard to admit a weakness, Starlee, but you’re definitely mine. All those days of hiking and running around? That was me trying to sweat you out of my system. I knew good and well that once we had sex, there would be no going back. The last three months have been nothing but studying, training, and very cold showers.”
Her cheeks turn red at my admission. I run my hand behind her neck, pulling her to me as I lean forward. Her lips taste like sunshine when I kiss them I know in that instant I was a damned fool for letting her go, and as much as I want to sneak her back to my hotel room, I don’t.
“You ready to tell me what happened with your mom?” I ask, knowing her showing up with these questions isn’t just about me.
“She found out I didn’t apply to Emory.”
“You didn’t?”
“No, I applied here and to Berkeley.”
A tension in my chest unfurls, one I didn’t exactly know I’d been carrying. The fear of her leaving to go back east. “You’re staying close?”
“I want to, but Mom thinks I’m just doing it for you guys and that I’m about to throw my life away for a guy, or well, guys, the way she did with my father.”
I know a little about Mrs. Jones’ history. Enough to say, “I don’t see you taking that path.”
“Well she made it clear what a mistake I was and how trapped she felt by having me.” Tears glisten in her eyes and I wrap my arm around her. “I can’t ever please her, Jake. I always thought it was because of everything that happened when I was in middle school, but I think it started long before that. I’m just tired of disappointing her.”
I kiss her temple and hold her tight. Her arm lies between us, the tail end of her tattoo visible under the cuff of her sleeve. I push it back and run my fingers down the words.
“I’ve gotten to know your mom a little better since Sierra left. She’s done a good job filling in and there are times when I can see where you get your spark—your light. She has it, too. But the worry that brought you here tonight about being a burden? And the anxiety you’ve carried since childhood—you inherited that, too. I think you’re both self-sacrificing and I think you’re both flawed. You both have the urge to run and then save everyone in your path.”
“You’re saying we’re too much alike.”
I nod. “Sometimes, yeah. I just think you’re going to live the life you want, Starlee. You’ve never been running away. You’re always running to something. There’s a difference.”
She holds my eye for a moment then kisses me. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Being honest with me.” She stands, hand still connected to mine. I go with her. “I need to get back to San Francisco.”
I look at the time. “It’s almost eleven and at the risk of sounding like a controlling dick, I’m just not comfortable with you getting in a rideshare by yourself. Call your mom and tell her you’re staying here.” I gesture down the street to the hotel.
“You want me to tell her I’m staying with you? That will only confirm her suspicions.”
“You can’t stay in my room because I have a roommate and he’s a three-hundred-pound defensive lineman that snores, but we can get you a room and you can meet up tomorrow.”
She relents and together we walk down the street, things settled and easy between us for the first time in months.
28
Starlee
I sigh as I hang up the phone, assuring my mother that I’m safe, not staying in a room full of football players, and that we’ll talk first thing in the morning. Her voice was wobbly when she apologized. Mine just exhausted. Jake and I wait at the front desk while she calls and talks to the reception desk, approving and paying for the room.
The woman looks between Jake and I, probably assessing my tired expression and lack of luggage and his unnatural beauty. She slides the key across the table and as we walk to the elevator I whisper, “I hope she doesn’t think I’m a prostitute.”
He looks down at me with amusement and kisses my forehead. “You’re ridiculous.”
If he’d left it to that single chaste kiss and hadn’t pushed me against the wall of the elevator, hands on both sides of my head and done it again, properly, things maybe wouldn’t have escalated.
But he did.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt his mouth on mine without the strain of tension, without him fighting against me, that my insides melt like butter. In the small, cramped space, I’m overwhelmed by his scent—his nearness. My heart pounds like a hummingbird’s wings, the area below my belly button flutters with desire.
The door opens and we break apart, my knees and breath both wobbly. His hand grips mine and I see the flush of want on his cheeks as his eyes skim the room numbers. He stops abruptly before the door and kisses me again at the same time he slips the key in the slot.
“I can leave now,” he says quietly. “We don’t have to do this.”
“Are you seriously trying to cockblock me again, Hollingsworth?” I ask, actually terrified he may run. “Do you really want another cold shower?”
He smiles, slow and confident, the kind of smile that won me over months and months ago. The smile that tells me that once we close this door all bets are off—that everything he’s been holding back will let loose like the walls of a dam breaking.
“Just giving you options, babe.”
“I don’t need options,” I say, pushing his muscular body into the room. “I just need you.”
That’s all the invitation he needs, and he continues to kiss me as I shrug my sweater off my shoulders. His fingers touch the skin of my belly, making warmth spread below my hips. Moments pass in a flurry of quiet movements. My shirt drops to the floor—his hoodie next to it. My hands itch to touch his skin, his perfect, sculpted chest, the etched ladder of abs. In the shadowy light of the hotel room I see his perfection and run my fingers over his flesh, kissing the hard planes of his chest.
“I’ve dreamt of this moment,” he tells me, unashamed. “Like, literal dreams. Sometimes we’re in my bedroom, or your bedroom, or up on a mountaintop. I wake up so hard, so consumed, that usually I have to run it off—the thought of you off—to get my head back on straight.”
To have such words said by the man in front of me is almost too much. My heart swells and I’m overwhelmed when his fingertips skim my arms, down the sides of my body. I shiver from head to toe and when he lifts me, taking me in his strong arms and sitting me on the edge of bed, I take a moment to absorb him. All of him, from the jaw that looks carved from marble to the abs he works tirelessly to m
aintain. I touch his narrow, tapered waist and the golden hair under his belly button. We remove the last barrier of clothing between us and although I’ve seen him before—tasted him before--it’s different. We’re both more exposed than we’ve ever been and there’s a build-up of anticipation that tingles in every nerve.
Jake presses his mouth to mine and we shift back on the bed. His hands scald my skin and I’m not embarrassed at how obvious it is that I want him. The last year has taught me to trust these boys and I do with all my heart and soul.
“Promise you’ll never push me away again,” I say as he hovers over me. I feel him pressing into me, pausing, waiting.
“Never,” he assures me.
I spread wide, welcoming, and there’s nothing like looking into the face of someone that loves you as he finally claims you, physically, and makes you his own.
I know from the way he quakes, the rattle of his breath, and rumble in his chest, that he feels the same.
It’s not lost on me when we’re finished, wrapped in one another, our bodies slick with sweat, that I’ve done exactly what my mother warned me about—running into the arms of these boys. Losing myself physically to them.
I brush a strand of hair off Jake’s forehead and lay my ear against his chest, listening to his slowing heart. What she doesn’t understand is that it’s too late. I’ve already thrown away the past for this future. One that revolves around them as well as my own aspirations.
I want both.
I want them all.
And I plan on making it happen.
29
Starlee
Jake’s alarm buzzes before dawn, knowing he needs to get back to his room. He and the other players have a set curfew but no one is watching too close and his defensive linesman roommate isn’t going to rat him out.
He kisses me before he leaves, reaffirming that he loves me. I fall back asleep only to be woken by my phone.
“Hello,” I say groggily.
“Your grandmother and I will be there in twenty minutes,” my mother says, her voice sharp. “I’ll bring you up a change of clothes.”
“Thank you,” I say, adding, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run off like that.”
“We’ll talk about it when I get there.”
I get up and shower, using the shampoo and soap provided by the hotel. When I’m done I wrap myself in the fluffy white robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. I don’t have time to dry my hair before there’s a rap on the door. I open it to LeeLee in the hall. Her eyes settle on the disrupted bed behind me, too messy for one person. I ignore it and the condom wrappers in the trash. I’m tired of pretending.
“Where’s Mom?” I ask.
“Downstairs. I told her I’d bring you your bag.”
I take it from her.
“This trip was about you and your wedding. I shouldn’t have spoiled it with my drama.”
She pulls me into a tight hug. “Family makes us do weird things. So does love. You’re young, Starlee, and allowed to have adventures and make mistakes. Trust me, we’ve all had our share of unfortunate events.”
“Thanks, LeeLee.”
“There’s something else.” She sits in the desk chair. “Your mother never saw you as a burden. Not once. She was so happy to get pregnant with you. I remember. She’s just trying to find her place in this world as an adult and not just your mother. It’s hard. I know it was for me when she left.”
I nod. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“Go get dressed. We have an appointment at ten.” She hugs me once more and heads out the door, giving me time to get ready alone.
I change quickly and when I get to the lobby I see my mother talking to the man behind the reception desk. “Yes, ma’am, the visitors' center is about a mile away. There’s free parking.”
“Thank you,” she says, giving him a smile.
“Visitors' center?” I ask as she walks up. Her hand is full of brochures.
“Well,” she says, brushing her hair over her shoulder, “I decided that if you’re seriously considering Stanford, we may as well take a tour while we’re here. Check out that School of Social Work.”
I blink and look at LeeLee. She nods in encouragement.
“You want to go on a tour?”
“Yes, and Berkeley, too. Since Jake has two more days of training, we’ll head there tomorrow.”
A tiny part of me wants to flare up at my mother already shifting into control like this—making appointments—getting into my business, but then I think of the boys and what they’d give for an adult to take an interest in their lives, to help them through this major decision.
“I think that sounds really great, thanks, Mom.”
“You’re welcome, Starlee.” She makes a move toward me and I open my arms, embracing her tightly. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
“No,” I say. “I’m sorry for not being open with you about it all from the start. I think we both need to figure out how to handle life differently now that we’re both adults.”
Her eyes shine but it’s not with the flare of anger from the night before. With something different—pride, maybe? Whatever it is I’ll take it, because the decisions ahead are huge and I have no idea which one to make.
I’m thankful to have my mother and grandmother by my side to make it easier.
Spring rolls into the Sierras, gently bringing sun and melting snow. Fields brim with wildflowers and with graduation approaching, time seems to be slipping away fast. With most major decisions behind us, the Wayward Sons and I throw ourselves into the final weeks of school with gusto. Prom, final grades, graduation, parties, and of course, the wedding.
Things have been so good between the four of us since spring break. It’s like a balance fell into place. This applies to me and my mother too, who seems to realize I really am going away this fall. I really am an adult.
Charlie survived the recruitment process for the eSports program at Berkeley and it includes a nice scholarship, which has allowed him to back off pursuing so many contests. The weirdest decision is that the twins won’t live together—each opting to live in a dorm with students from their own majors; art and computer science. It’ll be the first time they’ve been separated in any way, but they seem happy about it. The Evans boys may need a little room to grow up.
Training camp went well for Jake and he solidified his spot on the team for the fall. He goes back in early July. I can’t even think about it. Not for a second.
And Dexter? He’s the rock. The foundation. I think he learned this from his sister. He’s turned into a ridiculous grouch, spending hours perfecting the dessert menu. He decided not to just make a cake but mini-pies in my grandmother’s three favorite flavors. Basically, he’s completely out of control and loving every minute of it.
Mom and LeeLee represented the five of us at graduation, bringing along Tom and Katie. Although there’s the notable but unspoken absence of four sets of parents that didn’t make it for one reason or the other, Sierra actually attends the ceremony. She doesn’t stay long, just to give each boy a hug and to share a moment with her brother. Baby steps. That’s all anyone wants.
Hearing my name called out by the principal is a surreal moment. Walking across that stage was something I never planned to experience. At best, I thought I’d get a certificate in the mail, but I’m here, living my best life, shaking his hand and holding up my diploma as four boys whooped it up in the audience, whistling and shouting my name. Pride is an understatement. Not for graduating—but for accomplishing something so much more important. Independence. Friendship. Love. Things I never expected to happen from that little house in North Carolina.
Claire’s parents threw a graduation party that lasted all night, but our duties called bright and early the next morning. The lodge. The coffee shop and the wedding.
Oh god, the wedding.
It may not be the event of the century, but it is the biggest one Lee Vines has seen in decades, and I’m not sure
any of us are prepared for it.
“Has anyone seen the box of electrical cords?” Charlie asks, running around the lawn.
“I think it got put back in the storage building,” George says, voice muffled. He’s under the platform that he and Jake built for the bride and groom to stand on for the ceremony.
“Why would you put it in there?” his twin asks. “You know I needed them.”
George scoots out, backside covered in dirt. He shoots his brother a glare. “I know we shared a womb, but I can’t actually read your mind.”
I’m pulling a wagon filled with flowers across the yard. The wedding is in six hours and it definitely feels like we’re not going to be ready on time. Everything’s here; the tables, chairs, awning, and tent. The big screen that Charlie will play the slide show on and the sound system mounted on the back deck of the office, but it’s not all set up the way we’d planned. Not yet, anyway. We’ve been prepping for five days and it feels like quicksand. Who said weddings were fun?
“I’ll help you find them,” I say to Charlie, abandoning my flowers and walking over to him.
“Thanks,” he replies, clearly agitated. When we reach the path that skirts between the buildings, he confesses, “I just don’t want anything to go wrong. Your grandmother has been so good to us, you know? We owe her this.”
I grab his hand and pull him to a stop. “LeeLee is good to you because she cares for you. Don’t feel pressure because of that.”
He looks down on me, glasses crooked, expression still pained.
“I’m serious. She’s going to love it regardless. It isn’t about the event, it’s about the action. She’s so excited to be marrying Tom.”
Charlie’s the analytical one—each move in an activity toward a specific goal—and this one had been about giving LeeLee the perfect day. I push up on my toes and his hands move to my waist. We kiss and I feel that same rush of excitement that I always do. His tongue teases mine, making my tummy twist in delight. He’s become a very good kisser. Proficient with all his touches and movements. I have a feeling that once this wedding is over and we have time to relax and enjoy our summer, the final walls between the two of us will fall and this boy is going to show me the rewards of waiting.