Chapter 7 Clover
CLOVER
The fucking nerve of him.
I pace angrily in front of his fireplace.
I’m an idiot for thinking he had changed.
For thinking that maybe for a minute, he remembered that we didn’t always hate each other.
That he would suddenly be the same Beckett Hollis who picked me up from prom when I called him sobbing because my boyfriend broke up with me, and I didn’t have a ride anymore.
The Beckett who took the long way to get me home that night, trying not to go back and beat the shit out of that kid because it was also just a couple hours shy of my eighteenth birthday.
The Beckett that pulled his car to the side of the road when it hit midnight, turned to me, grabbed the nape of my neck and pulled me to him, kissing me so hard I forgot how to breathe.
The Beckett that said he had been wanting to do that for so long, but had been scared. The Beckett that told me he wouldn’t let anyone hurt me again as he kissed me over and over.
We never told anyone. We would find reasons to be together, going to the movies and holding hands under the popcorn bucket. Sneaking kisses in the kitchen after dinner when he would volunteer me to help him clean up. Watching TV together in the living room, our thighs touching.
I got my job offer and we all celebrated. Brynn, Mary, and Hayes, their dad, were all so happy for me. Brynn had just gotten her job at the airport, and I was going to Florida to be an animator. I had worked so hard on my portfolio and it paid off.
Everyone was excited, but not Beckett. He made some sorry excuse to leave, and that night, he never secretly met me in the kitchen. He never met me anywhere again.
The one who told me he would never let anyone hurt me again lied because he did it himself. He acted as if what we had never existed, and the last time he saw me cry, he didn’t hold me. I begged him to tell me what I did wrong, told him I loved him and I didn’t want to be like this; I wanted him.
He told me I was just a fling, that he had chosen a college and was leaving, too. He laughed at me when I told him I loved him. He said that’s why I get hurt too easily and then he left me in the driveway.
Silly me for thinking he was anything other than that when he was squeezing me last night. I guess I made up the memory of feeling his lips press against the top of my head for the quickest moment.
I’ve tried so hard to keep this part of my past tucked away in a deep, dark spot that no one sees. No one knows that Beckett Hayes Hollis was my first love and my first heartbreak. No one knows that every time I’ve been on a date, I’ve unfairly compared them to Beckett.
Brynn definitely doesn’t know. I don’t know if she would kill him or me first. Maybe somehow both at once. She’s an inventive woman.
“Clover? Why are you stompin’?”
Lennon’s question grounds me.
“Hey, Lenny! Good morning. How did ya sleep?” I try to divert the question.
She shrugs. “Not bad. Where’s Gram? And why are you stompin’?”
I walk over and smooth down her wild hair. It’s the same color as her dad’s. This kid’s relentless.
“Sometimes, when I’m cranky, stomping it out helps me a little,” I admit honestly.
“It’s probably not the best way to do it, but sometimes it’s okay.
” She seems to get it. “As for your Gram, their road was flooded this morning, Peach. She couldn’t make it out to hang out with us today, but she will real soon.
She was bummed she couldn’t be with you. ”
Lennon’s bottom lip quivers, but she tries to steel herself. “Oh.”
I feel my own bottom lip poke out in sympathy. I would burn the world if it hurt this kid.
“What’s wrong, Lenny?” I crouch down, leveling myself with her and take her hand in mine.
“It’s just that it’s Thursday. We always have a pancake party on Thursdays.” Her eyes well up with tears.
“Well, if it’s okay with you, I’d love to have a pancake party with you. Then we can send pictures to Gram if you want!”
She sniffles and looks at me suspiciously.
“Do you know how to make pancakes, even?” she asks, and I’m almost insulted.
“Do I know how to make pancakes?! Pfft. Your Gram taught me how to make pancakes a million years ago!” I say proudly.
“I told Dad that’s how old you are, but he said not to say it around you.”
“Ouch.”
“He said you’d say that,” she says, walking off towards the kitchen in her footie pajamas.
To add insult to injury, my traitorous cat comes bouncing down the stairs to follow right at her heels.
I quickly shoot off a text while Lennon is distracted.
Hey Momma Mary, quick question. What’s your pancake recipe again?
You must be hosting the pancake party for me! You’re gonna need some flour . . .