by Angel Lawson
Two hours later, Charlie has his light and sound systems set up. Jake and George have all the tables and chairs arranged, while Dexter is tucked away in the kitchen. The burlap is artfully arranged, and tiny jars of wildflowers are scattered everywhere. The boys all head home to shower and change and I duck in the Wayward Sun to make sure Dexter’s ready.
“Holy crap,” I say, walking in the kitchen. “It looks like a bomb dropped.”
The room is a total disaster. Pots, pans, bowls, spoons, trays, plates…every item is pulled from the shelves and piled in the industrial sink. On the table is a beautiful cake—not too big, but perfect. Not too overwhelmingly feminine but also sweet, with yellow accents that match our bridesmaid dresses exactly. Boxes of mini pies are stacked on the counter, waiting to be displayed on the tables outside. Dexter leans against the counter, worn-out but clearly proud.
“Dex, it’s gorgeous,” I say, about the cake. “LeeLee will love it.”
“Thank you,” he says. “Is everything ready out front?”
“As good as it’s going to get.”
“Is it wrong for me to say I’m ready to get this over with?”
I laugh and cross the kitchen. “Nope. Not at all. I think we’re all ready for summer vacation to start.”
His hand cinches around my waist and his mouth drops to mine, giving me a lazy kiss. When we part I lick my lips, tasting the flour and sugar left behind and he grins, pulling me close.
He’s so good. So handsome. So everything to me. I hate to break the spell of happiness between us, but I do feel like I need to tell him something. “Just so you know, I don’t think LeeLee ever heard from Sierra about coming today.”
Sadness flickers in his eyes. “I thought maybe after showing up for graduation, she’d break her silence for your grandmother.”
“Me too.” But we both knew it was a long shot.
His jaw sets like he’s mulling over some information and he finally says, “I did get a letter from her.”
I frown. “You did?”
“We all did—the guys.” He looks a little embarrassed. “Sorry we didn’t tell you, or I didn’t. I think they were following my lead.”
“Don’t apologize.” I wrap my hand in his apron, holding on to him. “I’m just glad you heard from her.”
He nods, not looking completely convinced. “She says she’s okay and just wanted to congratulate us on making it through—surviving, I guess.”
“Anything else?”
He shakes his head. “Not really.”
I wrap my arms around him and hug him tight. I know this whole thing hurts more than he’s letting on.
“I guess I should go clean up,” he says after a minute.
“I hate to tell you, but the guys beat you upstairs. Yours will probably be cold.”
His lips curve into a smug smirk. “With the lack of time I’ve spent with you lately, a cold shower may be best anyway.”
It’s been weeks since we’ve had time to sneak away to Katie’s camper. “You miss me?”
“So much.” His hands cup my face and he kisses me again, long, slow and sweet.
I break away and fan myself. “You keep that up and I’ll be taking a cold shower, too.”
He laughs and kisses me again anyway, and I know that even with the loss of Sierra that he’s okay. If she taught him anything, it’s that family is more than blood and Dexter is definitely part of ours.
30
Starlee
Mom and I hover around LeeLee, adjusting, powdering, spraying. When my grandmother finally stands before the mirror in her ivory dress, beads glinting across the bodice, she looks like more than a bride-to-be. She looks like a queen.
“Oh, Mom, you look just…” my mother wipes tears from her eyes. She’s a crier now. I think it’s hormones or something. Unfortunately, they’re contagious and I blot the corner of my eyes, trying not to mess up the makeup Katie so expertly applied.
“You look perfect,” I say, finishing for my mom.
The three of us are wearing matching earrings—emeralds given to us by my grandmother. LeeLee has a blue handkerchief tucked in her sleeve.
“Is this crazy?” she asks suddenly. “Should I be getting married at my age?”
“You’re not crazy,” Mom says. “It’s just nerves.”
“I know. I do. I guess I’m set in my ways and all the sudden it’s here and what if it’s a terrible mistake.”
“Do you love him?” Mom asks.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to spend all your time together? Build a life together?”
“I do.” She smiles.
“Then I think you’re not making a mistake.” She squeezes my grandmother’s hand. “You both still have your businesses, your friends, and your own lives. This will just be icing on the cake.”
We make the final touches; straightening out our skirts, applying a fresh coat of lipstick, smoothing our hair. We gather in by the front door and LeeLee rests her hand on the doorknob.
“Thank you both for being here.” She looks at Mom. “Thank you for coming home—at least for a little while. I want you both to know that no matter where you go, to college or other exotic locations, this will always be your home.”
“Wait,” I say abruptly, “I need to tell you my decision.”
They both look at me, expressions eager—my mother’s slightly apprehensive.
“I’m going to Stanford. I think I like the program better and they offered me a small scholarship based off my ACT scores.” And although I’m not chasing a boy, I do want to stay close to Jake—make sure he succeeds academically. The twins have each other and Dexter’s focused on the shop. They’ll all come down for the games and it seems like a good spot for me.
“I think that’s a wonderful decision,” LeeLee says. “Another family member at Stanford. My father would be proud.”
“Perfect choice. I liked it, too.” My mother embraces me, careful not to mess my dress or hair. “I guess it’s time for me to share my news, then.”
I’m not sure why we all decide now is the time for the great reveal, but I guess it has something to do with the fact this may be the last time we’re all in one room together by ourselves for a while.
“I’ve booked my trip to Asia—the one I was about to take when I came here last December. With the boys all eighteen and moving on, you headed to college and Leelee getting married, it’s time for me to jump back into my own life.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” LeeLee says, her eyes bright. “We all have adventures awaiting.”
I point to the clock. “Not just waiting—happening. We’re late.”
“Oh!” LeeLee says, opening the door. “They’ll forgive us when they see how amazing we all look.”
I can’t help but laugh. My grandmother is the best. I can tell my mom thinks so too, and we link arms as we walk down the sidewalk toward the lawn in the distance. From here I can see the guests waiting patiently in their white-backed chairs and see the cake table just off to the side. The alter is obscured and I don’t get a chance to look up there as Katie waits for us in a small, enclosed tent near the makeshift aisle, ushering us quickly inside.
“Did Tom show up?” my grandmother asks with a laugh.
“Sure did, looking handsome. Good thing you’re locking that down,” Katie replies. She looks at me. “The Sons, too.”
I bet.
“Everyone ready?” she asks. We nod and she texts Charlie, who cues up the music. “Starlee, you’re first.”
Katie hands me my bouquet of flowers and holds back the tent flaps. I step out onto the lawn feeling like I’ve entered a fairytale. Guests are on both sides and the aisle is long and narrow. I pass our neighbors and friends, but my eyes aren’t on them. They’re focused forward. Not on Tom. I mean, he looks nice, but I’ve got my gaze and heart set on the four boys he asked to stand up for him, that LeeLee wanted as witnesses. Four wayward souls that are now part of the family.
&nbs
p; A cool mountain breeze tickles the back of my neck as I take one step after the other, closer to the men I love. They’re dressed in gray suits and ties that match the yellow of my dress. I feel their eyes on me, sense the sweep of their gaze down my body, head-to-toe. Their expressions in various states of approval. I love that no one here, outside a few limited friends, knows that these boys are mine and that I’m theirs.
We’re young. Too young to make decisions about the future. There’s college and careers and lives to lead, but I know in my heart that I could repeat the same vows as my grandmother today and I’d mean them.
When I opened my heart to each one of the wayward sons, when I wiped away every tear and iced each bruise or stitched every wound, it wasn’t just building a bond for today. It was tying us together.
Forever.
Epilogue
That last summer before college is filled with light.
Sunrises with Jake after he finishes his morning job. He lifts me easily on top of our rock, his muscles growing bigger, leaner. We watch the ball of fire creep from behind the mountains, blasting the sky with purples and golds, our bodies wound in one another for warmth.
Sunsets peek in the back trailer window as Dexter’s hands wander my flesh and his mouth whispers promises. The angry boy is gone, his passion poured into his other interests, primarily me. That raw aggression that he used to pound out with his fists pounds into my body, showing me a kind of aching love-making only old souls possess. He’s content. Secure. And I love him more every day.
Moonlight shines down on the little town and I sit with George as he tries to capture our home. Charcoal, acrylics, oil, and pastels. He sketches, paints, and collages, trying to replicate the air, the scenery, the people. He’s frantic. Nervous about his new life, as we all are, and it’s the only way he knows how to channel it. Night after night he works, not realizing he doesn’t need to record Lee Vines. It’s in his heart. Always.
The strangest is the mid-day sun, when Charlie emerges from the dark of his cave, ready for adventure. The urgency of our limited time pushes through his routine, drawing him to the rest of us—to me. He doesn’t fight the hikes or trips to dusty ghost towns, or boat rides on the lake. His skin turns pink from exposure. His mouth warms against mine.
The day after the Fourth of July, the final day before Jake leaves for training camp in Palo Alto, we make the hike up the hill toward Star Falls. I’m not the same girl I was the year before—fresh-faced and naïve. We eat a feast spread out on towels and then peel off our clothes, tossing them on sun-heated rocks. The water is freezing but we sink under anyway, knowing it’s the last time. Slippery hands grab for me, warm tongues tickle mine. We’re more forward than usual, but the clock ticks and when the water’s too cold we lie on the rocks, baking our skin, staying as close as we can.
That night, like he has a dozen times before, Jake comes to my bedroom window. He crawls in the window and into my bed, kissing my body from head to toe. I make the first of four goodbyes, licking his skin and feeling the hard muscles that I won’t touch again for weeks, if not longer. When we’re both breathing heavy, our skin slick from sweat and our bodies both satiated while hot and overheated, we make promises that we plan to keep.
Promises I make three more times.
Promises that carry us through distances and struggles and years.
Until we can be together again.
Late Fall, Freshman Year
“Are you seriously not ready yet?”
“Uh,” Charlie is deeply immersed in his game. Deeply. “I took a shower.”
He did. There’s a fresh soapy scent in the air and his hair is damp. Oh, he’s also sitting in his gaming chair in only a towel.
“I texted you that we were on the way. Jake dropped me off and went over to the gallery with Dexter. I told them I’d ride over with you.” Because I had a feeling he wouldn’t be ready. Charlie is the worst getting out the door. He’s like every other gamer in the universe. “Five more minutes…”
Tonight, we don’t have five more minutes. Okay, technically we do. Jake, Dex, and I were early getting here from Palo Alto for George’s show. Three of his pieces were chosen by a gallery downtown. It’s a prestigious moment and we decided to come to San Francisco to support him.
I cross the room and stand between him and the screen. His focus shifts from the game, sliding over to me. That’s when he looks at me for the first time, eyes widening slightly. The gallery is upscale and I’d worn a black dress. The front is a little more low-cut than I normally like, but the boys definitely gave it their approval when I walked out of my dorm room. Now that I have Charlie’s attention, I can see he likes it as well.
“Hi,” he says, lowering the device to the floor. “You look nice.”
“Thank you.” I sweep my eyes over him. “You look not very ready.”
He leans back in his seat, blue towel wrapped around his waist. His skin is pale, but his chest and shoulders developed. George, worried about his twin’s sedentary life, makes him work out with him at the school fitness center. Personally, I think it’s just a way for George to see his brother every day. It’s pretty cute.
Charlie’s also cute, with his damp, disheveled hair and square-framed glasses. His bottom lip is red from where he worried it while playing and I lean forward, hovering my mouth over his. He licks his lips, eyes flicking from my chest, to my mouth back up to my eyes.
“We have a few minutes before anyone expects us at the gallery. Which means you can keep playing that game or, you know, we could spend it doing other things.”
“Other things” is open ended. The last few months have been about building trust, adjusting to changes, exploring one another. Distance has allowed us a different way to communicate. Text, emails, even a few letters. We’ll talk at night on the phone, and there’s something that helps him by not having to face me directly as he lowers his guard. When we’re together, things are good. Progressing. Although, we still haven’t had sex, which in this situation is not a detriment at all. Charlie may drive me crazy with his focus on gaming, but he parlays that intensity into our intimacy. He studies me, learning how to play me as well as his favorite games. My body became his playground and his dexterous fingers the instruments to provide me pleasure. Great, earth-shattering pleasure. At this point I’m not even sure what’s holding us back, but I’m starting to think that’s a game in and of itself. How much can we drive each other crazy before going all the way.
Frankly, I’m tipping over the edge of insanity.
Standing over him, I tease him for a moment longer, our breath lingering over one another’s lips, but he finally caves first, sitting up and kissing me. It’s a welcome. A hello. The kind I feel in every fiber of my being. His hands skim the back of my legs, until he reaches the hem of my skirt, then he pushes that up, up, up.
I tug away the towel, unsurprised he’s already hard and ready. It’s a familiar sight when you have four boyfriends in their prime. They’re always ready and Charlie is no different, although bigger. I reach for the velvet of his skin as cool air greets my backside and he uses those slender, quick fingers to discard my panties. I crawl into his lap, warm and wet between us. Hard and soft. For the first time I don’t want his fingers on me. I want his cock in me.
I tell him so.
“Yeah?” he asks, but there’s not an ounce of hesitation in his eyes. I kiss him in response and he lifts me by the waist, lowering me slowly onto him. My body aches from the size of him, but it’s like the final, missing piece of the puzzle snaps into place.
We do it this way, in the chair, where we can see one another’s faces. Where I can kiss his mouth and his hands hold onto me like a lifeline. I grip the back of the seat and when the build-up is too much, and the sensations are overwhelming, our eyes hold, our souls connected. My teeth clamp down on his bottom lip when I finally shatter, barely coherent as the ripples roll down my spine. My movements have barely slowed when his breathing grows erratic and I swallo
w his grunts, the deep guttural groan as he follows me down the bath of bliss.
“That,” he says, pressing his sticky forehead to mine, “was worth the wait.”
I laugh, kissing him again. “I love you, Charlie Evans.”
“I love you, too, Starlee Jones.”
Spring, Sophomore Year
“Do you have your passport?”
“Yes.”
“Your I.D.?”
“Yep.”
“Your money, phone, and the contact information for when you get there.”
“Yes, babe, I’ve got it all together.” George kisses my forehead in an attempt to soothe me.
“Oh,” I say, unsoothed. I reach into my purse and pull out a plastic baggie. “This is a mini first-aid kit. Band-Aids, ointment, some of those suture kits. I added some allergy and pain meds and stuff.”
He blinks but takes it, stashing it in his backpack. There’s a small grin on his lips. “Anything else, Mom?”
I push him. “I’m not trying to be your mom, I’m just…I can’t believe you’re leaving for three months to go to Spain.”
George’s fingers thrum against the chair. We’re at the airport, just outside security. He has five minutes until he has to walk through and I feel like I may throw up. He must sense it because he tosses his arms around my body and pulls me into this chest. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I know. I just already don’t see you as much as I want to, and,” I sniff, trying not to wipe my nose on his shirt, “I’m going to miss you.”