Chapter Twenty-Seven
Blake
“H ey, kid,” my brother’s deep, familiar voice greets me on the third ring.
I startle at the sound of his voice and almost drop my phone, having already prepared to talk to his voicemail. “Hi, how are you?” I quickly ask, almost worried he’ll hang up if there’s too much of a lull.
“Oh, you know,” he answers nonchalantly.
No, Grady! I don’t know! I want to scream.
Instead, I offer an easy, “Sure.”
“What about you? How’s everything?”
“Things are good… different, you know, big changes this year.” I cringe at my rambling as I pick at the baja blanket lying across my lap.
“Oh yeah, I’m sure it’s been hard since your friends left. How are Margo and Meera doing?”
“They’re good,” I amend. I fill him in on their lives, giving more details than he probably cares to have on my two best friends. But he’s patient and quiet as I talk for close to ten minutes.
“I’m glad they’re adjusting to college. It can be weird, for sure.” I hear traffic in the background, so I assume he’s sitting out on the balcony. He lives with his on-again-off-again girlfriend, now soon-to-be mother of his child, Arielle. And he won’t talk about why, but he never includes her in conversations or Facetimed unless it has to do with the baby they’re expecting.
“Yeah… Yeah, me too…” We’re quiet for close to two minutes before he clears his throat. Not wanting him to hang up, I blurt out, “I actually called you for a reason.”
“Oh? Okay. What’s going on, Blake?”
“I’m kind of seeing someone… I think?”
He lets out a quiet chuckle. “You think ? And who? It better not be Cody again.”
Cody’s the guy on his baseball team I used to hang out with sometimes.
“No,” I scrunch my nose. Overall, Cody’s fine. He’s nice enough. But now that I know Adrian? He doesn’t even compare to the six-foot-four Greek God of a man that is Adrian. Any guy I’ve been with up until this point looks like Plankton in comparison.
“Good. He was an idiot.”
“He was,” I agree, “but he was nice.”
“Yeah, that’s why I never gave him too hard of a time.”
“His name is Adrian… He works at the vet clinic.”
There’s a pause. “The vet clinic? As in our father’s animal hospital?”
“Yeah, he’s like, Dad’s new prodigy, dude.”
Grady laughs—it’s loud, and real, and so rare these days that I soak it in like the sun. “Okay, so Dad obviously is planning the wedding then.”
My dad’s a bit of a romantic and very superstitious. “According to Mom, ‘he had a feeling .’”
“That man and his feelings ,” he says in a way that makes me imagine him rolling his eyes.
“So… not to be rude, or cross a boundary or anything, but do you not agree with his intuition?”
Grady scoffs, but he gives me the respect to actually think about the question. We’ve always made fun of our dad for his gut instincts, sometimes as small as us acing a test, or larger like who he thinks our soulmates in life are.
“I think,” he starts slowly, “Dad’s the biggest romantic in the family, and we love him for that. But when Dad said he had a feeling about who I’d marry one day, I was probably twelve. What was I supposed to do with that?”
He doesn’t have to say Vivi’s name. We both know he’s talking about the redheaded girl who we grew up with. Even though they’ve created the Grand Canyon’s worth of space between them, they’ll never fully be out of each other’s lives since our moms are best friends.
While I ended up on Grady’s side of that distance—unlike our parents and her siblings who were able to navigate their complex relationship better than I could—it was just another thing wrong in my life at that time.
Yet, I can’t deny it feels wrong that I basically have a sister-in-law and it’s not Genevieve Davies.
“I don’t know,” I sarcastically drawl. “You could’ve not,” I fake gasp, “ kissed another girl at homecoming, Grady Miller .”
“Shut up. I was like fourteen, and that’s exactly what I mean. I wasn’t nearly old enough to even understand the difference between a crush and having feelings for someone. You , Blake Miller, are not a little girl anymore.”
There’s a mix of awe and disbelief hidden under his amusement. The words I can’t say get lodged in my throat, and after a second, Grady must realize that.
He continues, “You’re becoming a woman. And I don’t mean that in the sappy, Chicken Noodle Soup for the Soul way that Mom does.”
Appreciating him lightening the mood, I add, “You mean this isn’t the talk about my choice between pads and tampons?”
“No,” he deadpans, “though, I better buckle up for that within the next ten years.” I laugh, and so does he, but it’s short-lived. “You’re growing into a young adult—one that’s experienced more than anyone your age should. No one can tell you what you want or what’s good for you. Not even Mom or Dad, or Catalina, or me. So, tell me, Blake. Do you want to explore things with this Adrian guy? Do you think he’d be good for you?”
With no hesitation, I quietly breathe out, “Yeah, I do. To both. Want that and think he’d be good, I mean.”
I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “You didn’t need me at all, but I’m glad you called me to talk it through anyway.”
Biting back tears, I whisper, “Me too. I really miss you sometimes, Grady.”
“Only sometimes?” he teases.
“You know what I mean.” I laugh but it’s sad and watery.
I can hear him let out a large breath. “I know, I really miss you too… sometimes. ”
“Just call more, okay?”
“Okay, Blake. I’ll try.”
There’s an undertone of reservation there that I can’t place but choose not to push it. Instead, I use the last few minutes of our call to talk to him about anything I can think of before he actually does have to go to bed. It’s the longest we’ve talked in a while, and even though I don’t believe him, I’m really hoping he keeps his word.