12
Poppy
Ipeer out into the crowd, seeing hundreds of smiling faces. Christmas is coming, and so many mothers have brought their children tonight to get in the holiday spirit. I guess The Nutcracker will do that.
Brooks has been putting on The Nutcracker since I was a kid. And this particular show at this venue has always been special to me. Because I remember the first time I watched it live onstage. I was in the sixth grade, and our class took a field trip. Most of the kids’ parents had sent them with money to buy snacks. I didn’t have any money, but Walker had been helping an older lady who lived the next street over from ours. She’d pay him to mow the lawn and keep her yard picked up. He used most of the money for hockey necessities. But saved a little here and there too.
The field trip was optional. And while Walker came with me, Van said hell no and skipped.
I remember when Walker told me he’d be right back, only to return with popcorn, drinks, and candy. I swear he spent all the money he had brought just for me. And I knew if I hadn’t gone to that show, he wouldn’t have either.
The Nutcrackerisn’t even supposed to be emotional. But I watched those dancers onstage, and I felt every emotion possible. I was in complete awe of their talent and how they captured the audience.
I knew right then that I wanted to be onstage one day even if it was just a performance for the local community to come out and watch or if it was on Broadway. I wanted to be good enough for other little girls to watch and think to themselves… One day, that’s what I want to do.
That was exactly what I felt when I first saw The Nutcracker. And he was right next to me, holding my hand, when he saw the emotion on my face.
After that, he’d save money just to take me every year. The last time was during my freshman year, before he left.
“I’ve got a surprise for you, babe.” Ryann’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and when I turn, I find her holding out a huge bouquet of the most beautiful flowers.
Slowly, I take them and frown. “Did you get these for me? Or…”
“Watson just brought them in.” She shrugs. “Says you have a secret admirer. He didn’t tell me who it was.” She winks. “Spill the tea, baby girl. I’m mighty thirsty.”
I give her my best confused look. “I have no idea who these are from.”
“You lie like a rug,” she whispers, shaking her head. “I will find out. I alllllways do.”
I keep my face unfazed before, finally, she struts away. And then I move the flowers around until I find a card.
I remember the first time I watched The Nutcracker. Somehow, I think I’ll like it more this time. Watching you dance has always been my favorite thing.
—W
P.S. Good luck, Poppyseed.
My heart squeezes before it beats faster—and faster—almost like I’m running on a treadmill or doing some insane cardio workout.
Walker is here. Like…here. To watch me perform.
Sure, he was at the fundraiser, but that was different. He was performing too. And I was doing a silly number with Cade. This performance tonight challenges me. It pushes me. And also, it’s a lot of choreography.
But most of all, we used to come to this together, he and I. He knows how much this means to me.
I could screw up. And he’ll be out there, in the crowd, watching me.
Peering up into the crowd again, I wonder where he’s sitting. I know he can’t see me because I’m hidden in the dark wing of the stage. And though I wasn’t all that nervous before…I sure as hell am now.
There are hundreds of people here. But really…he’s the only one who matters.
*********
Walker
I’m not sure how I’m still alive right now. I swear I’ve spent this entire performance hardly breathing. My eyes were fixed on Poppy and how her body and soul moved around the stage so gracefully.
When she dances, the pain that usually lives on her face disappears, and the hardness in her eyes melts away. Left behind is an angel—one who was born to be on a stage.
“You’re staring at my sister,” Jake says, elbowing me gently.
“I can’t help it,” I admit just as she leaps into the air, stretching her legs out before landing on her feet again.
“I know,” he whispers, patting my arm with his hand.
Jake is dressed to the nines tonight. He was so excited to come to this when I picked him up. I found him in a tuxedo, smiling like a fool.
His sister might be his biggest cheerleader, but he’s hers right back.
“She doesn’t look sad when she dances,” he says slowly and thoughtfully. “She used to have that same look when you were around.”
I know he didn’t mean to, but his words cut me deep. Just knowing that for a long time, she trusted me. Probably more than she trusted anybody else in the world. She’d smile at me. Like…really smile. Not the forced one I see her give people sometimes.
Now, she’ll barely look me in the eye. And I can’t help but think about all the bad things that could have happened to her when I was gone. I wouldn’t know because I wasn’t there. I have no clue what she had to endure, and the thought alone makes me sick.
The show ends, and as they call her name and she takes a bow, I stand, cheering loudly as I clap my hands together. Jake brings his fingers to his mouth and whistles loudly.
“I still haven’t figured out how to do that!” I tell him, laughing. “I’ve tried so hard to learn.”
“What can I say? I’m the man,” he tosses back, clapping his hands.
Once everyone starts to exit the stage, Watson Gentry heads toward me.
“Ryann delivered the flowers to your girl, man.” He holds his fist up, bumping it to mine. “How long has this thing between you two been going on anyway?”
“Since they were kids,” Jake says, answering for me. “He’s very in love with my sister.”
Watson laughs before holding his hand out to Jake. “I’ve heard a lot about you from my wife, man. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Wife?” I say, my mouth hanging open. “You and Ryann are fucking married?”
“You know it,” he says with a grin.
Jake steps forward, narrowing his eyes. “If you hurt her, I’ll have to hurt you,” he says, giving Watson a harsh glare. “Ryann’s the best.”
“She is.” Watson nods. “I’ll never hurt her. You have my word.”
“But if you do—” Jake starts, and Watson pats his shoulder.
“If I do, I give you permission to beat me senseless.”
Seeming satisfied with that answer, Jake finally shakes Watson’s hand. “Congratulations on marrying the prettiest girl on the planet.”
“Thanks, man.” Watson smiles. “I appreciate that.” He turns his attention back to me. “So, you and Poppy Wilson.” He laughs. “And here I thought, I had it tough with Ry. Poppy is…man, she scares me a little. I can’t lie.”
“Yeah.” I laugh. “She’s…she’s tough.” I glance at Jake. “Didn’t you say you wanted to tell her good job? Let’s go get her before she finds another ride home.”
Jake gives me a pointed look, tipping his head down. “You are the one who wants to tell her good job.”
I shrug. “Yeah. Okay. That’s fair.” Holding my hand up to Watson, I tip my chin up. “See you at practice, big dawg.”
“See ya. Good luck.” He chuckles. “With women like Ryann and Poppy, you’ll need it.”
That’s putting it lightly.
*********
Poppy
I feel how I imagine a teenage girl feels when going on her first date. When the guy picks her up and she’s dressed up and feeling all bashful. That’s what it feels like, seeing Walker all dressed up, knowing he gave me flowers and just watched my performance.
“Good job, Poppy,” Jake says, throwing his arms around me. “I didn’t even fall asleep.”
I burst out laughing, shaking my head once he releases me. “Ummm … thanks, I guess?”
“What?” He shrugs. “It’s a long show.”
My gaze finds Walker, and he looks down at me, smiling. A smile that reaches his eyes, which isn’t something that I’ve seen too many times on him.
“You did great,” his deep voice says softly before he drags his hand down the back of his neck, shifting anxiously. “And you look … gorgeous.”
I’ve known Walker my entire life. He’s not a man who gets nervous. Even as a boy, he was confident, cool, and collected. But right now, he’s nervous.
Are his cheeks red?
“Bonnie … my girlfriend, and her mom are here to pick me up,” Jake says, stepping in and giving me another hug. “Love you, Poppy.”
“Love you too, J.” I squeeze him with one arm, my other holding the flowers, before he steps back and walks away.
And now, it’s just Walker and me. And this pulling force between us that makes me do crazy things. Things like losing my virginity an hour after identifying my dead brother. Or dry-humping him in his truck with ashes chilling in the backseat.
I have no control over what happens once our lips touch.
For some reason, the silence becomes too much, and I can’t stop myself from laughing at the debatable things I have done with this man lately.
“Sorry.” I put my hand to my mouth to silence an awkward giggle. “Thanks for coming. And for the flowers.” I pause, holding up the bouquet slightly. “They are beautiful.”
“You’re welcome. I wouldn’t have missed it,” Walker rasps, his expression growing serious. “I missed watching you dance.”
“I missed watching you play hockey,” I say softly, feeling the tension growing between us. I pull a breath in but still feel like I’m suffocating.
We stand there with people moving around us, all having their own conversations. Yet it seems like it’s just us and a bunch of background noise.
Brushing a strand of hair from my cheek, he slowly pulls his hand back. “Can I give you a ride home?”
Butterflies take flight in my stomach, thousands of them, all running rampant. If I leave with him right now, I’ll have this dress torn off before we even leave this parking lot.
Giving him a sympathetic smile, I wrinkle my nose. “Sorry. But I actually have plans with some of the other dancers after this.” I take a breath. “Thanks for coming. And for bringing Jake.” I narrow my eyes. “But how did you know I was dancing tonight in this?”
He gives me a sly smile and shrugs. “I can’t reveal my sources, Poppyseed.” He leans in, wrapping his arms around me and giving me a squeeze. “Have fun tonight. Be safe.” Kissing the top of my head, he murmurs against my hair, “I’m so proud of you. You did so fucking good.”
When he releases me, my body immediately misses him. And I stand here, rooted to this spot, forcing myself not to dive back into his arms.
He looks so good tonight in his dress shirt and pants. And he smells even better.
He smells like … home. And that’s coming from someone who’s never even had a real home.
“Thank you.” I wave. “Have a good night.”
“You too, P.”
As he turns and heads toward the exit, it takes every ounce of my control not to chase after him and climb into his truck.
*********
Walker
“Look at you, all dressed up and shit,” Nixon says with a grin when I walk into the dorm. “Hot date or what?”
“Something like that,” I mutter, looking around. “Where’s Elias?”
“No idea. Probably out with that Lainey. Or Lorna. Whatever her name is.”
“Lana,” I say.
He points. “Yep, that’s the one. Dude’s in fucking love with her already.” He holds up the remote to the Xbox. “Whatcha say, James? Up for a game?”
“You know it.” I head toward my room. “I just gotta change real quick.”
After the show ended, I drove around for a while in an attempt to clear my brain. It was useless, of course. So, now, I’m just hoping I can eventually fall asleep and stop thinking about Poppy.
Walking to my dresser, I pull out my gray Wolves sweatpants and my white T-shirt and change out of the stuffy-as-hell clothes I wore to Poppy’s performance. I’m not going to lie. I wish I were hanging out with her right now. I was pretty tempted to find out who she was hanging out with and where and show up there. The thought that she’s out partying right now—maybe around other dudes—well, it pisses me off. But this is also one of the first times she’s gone out and had fun since her brother died, and the last thing I want is to take that away from her. So, I guess it’s video games with Nixon instead.
Just as I finish changing, my phone goes off, and I see Gentry’s name on my screen.
Gent: Where you at, man? I see your better half, but you’re nowhere to be seen.
Me: We aren’t really a thing, I guess. She told me she had plans with the other dancers. I must have missed you dancing up on the stage in tights.
Gent: Trust me, if I were in tights … there’d be no missing it.
I chuckle at the eggplant emoji, shaking my head.
Gent: I’m here with my wife. We’re at Club 83, and I’m telling ya, there are a lot of dudes fixin’ to piss on your property and mark her as theirs.
That has my blood boiling.
Me: What the fuck do you mean? Who is it?
Gent: Question is, who isn’t it? There are a lot of football players, baseball players, and even a few basketball players here tonight. Lot of attention on your little dancer, my friend.
Gent: Oh, and she’s also hammered. So, there’s that.
Me: Be there in ten.
Gent: Yeah. That’s what I thought.
Pulling my Wolves hockey hoodie on, I rush out of my room.
“Sorry, B. I gotta run to Club 83 to check on a friend.”
I yank the door open, and he leaps from the couch and charges behind me.
“Well, guess what. I’m going too.” He stuffs his cell phone into his pocket. “And don’t worry; I’ll find a ride home so you can thoroughly check on this … friend.”
Heading outside, I tread toward my truck. Because the idea of my girl getting drunk with a bunch of horny college dudes around doesn’t sit well with me.
Not one bit.
Watson wasn’t lying. She’s pretty fucking drunk.
And that’s just my observation from across the room, watching her sway to the music with her eyes closed. She’s not with dudes though, but surrounded by other chicks. But the way she moves, the swinging of her body, it’s blatantly obvious she’s intoxicated.
She’s still so beautiful, even if she isn’t in her right mind. There’s always a slight frown on her lips, but right now … it’s gone. And the corners of her lips are turned up. She’s either happy or she’s just feeling the liquor a little too much. Either way, her cheeks are red, and her hair is no longer in a neat bun, but flowing over her shoulders, flying in every direction as she sways.
I nurse my beer, continuing to monitor her. This is her night. The Nutcracker has meant everything to her since the first time we watched it. And now, she was in the show, performing for all the people in the Brooks area. And she’s having fun. So, until some sorry motherfucker walks up to her, I’ll sit my ass here and just observe her beauty.
“Figured you’d show up about the time I mentioned your old lady was getting hit on,” Gentry drawls, taking the stool beside mine. “Also, I give her about fifteen minutes, and she’ll be puking her guts out.”
“How much did she drink?” I scowl at him. “And why’d you let her?”
“Uh, well, let’s see … she’s not my responsibility. And, oh yeah, I suggested she take it easy, and she told me to piss off and fuck a couch. So … I sort of just walked off.”
“She’s pretty spicy,” I mutter, glancing at him. “I figure I’ll let her have her fun for a little while longer. She’s had a rough few weeks.”
Bringing his beer to his lips, he takes a sip. “Yeah. I heard that Huff’s dealer, who died, was her brother. That really sucks, man.”
Turning my attention back to Poppy, I sigh. “It does. But right now, she looks happy.” I swallow. “I don’t want to cut the night short. Because, to be honest, Gentry … she doesn’t get to be happy very often. I fucking love it when she smiles.”
He’s silent for a moment before tapping his bottle to mine. “Ryann does this thing where she smiles at people to be polite, but it’s not a true happy smile. When I get to see her, like, really smile, fuck, man, it makes everything else in the world not matter one bit.” He clasps his hand on my shoulder. “Make her smile more, man. Be the reason why she smiles.”
“Trust me, I’m trying,” I mumble just before one of Brooks’ top basketball players, Victor Jacobs, approaches her.
As soon as he dips his lips close to her ear and speaks, her eyes fly open, and she stares him down. Getting up from my stool, I vaguely hear Watson laugh before he mutters something. I don’t stop to ask him what he said because my girl is drunk. And as far as I’m concerned, that asshole can back the fuck up.
“No thanks,” I hear her voice yell over the music. “I’m here with friends.”
“Come on, beautiful. One drink.” He gives her his best grin, leaning a bit closer. “And if you don’t want to hang out with me after that … I’ll leave you alone.”
“Um …” She looks nervous but takes a few long blinks, clearly feeling the effects of whatever she drank.
“She’s had enough for tonight, thanks,” I grumble, stepping between them and tucking my arm around her waist. “Let’s get you home, babe.”
She snorts before slapping the palm of her hand against my chest. “Walker motherfucking James. In the flesh.” She laughs harder, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “Always here to saaaave the day!”
Victor’s eyes widen as he looks her up and down. “Yeah. She’s, uh … all yours.”
Once he walks—no, scurries—away, she belts out another laugh. “Look, you scared my friend away!” She pokes her lip out. “Big, scary Walker James.” She drives her finger into my abdomen, talking in almost a baby voice. “No one wants to piss you off, big fella.”
“Good,” I utter. “I’m fucking glad.” Putting my arm around her, I angle her face up at me. “I’m taking you home. You’re drunk, and you need to sleep this off.”
“Soooo bossssy,” she whispers, now touching her finger to my lips. “So cute though. My little grouchy cutie pie.”
She stands on her tippy-toes, moving her face closer to mine. “Are you going to take me … home? You know, home. Wink, wink.” She attempts to wink but instead squints one eye before blinking both.
Suddenly, she frowns. “I don’t feel that good.” She gazes around. “Whoooa, the room is spinning.”
Scooping her up in my arms, I push through the crowd. Tonight has been a good night for her. The last thing she needs is people videoing her puking all over Club 83 and posting it on social media or some shit.
When I pass Watson at the bar, who now has Ryann between his legs, he holds his hand up and waves at the same time Ryann’s eyes find Poppy, and she cringes.
“She’ll be fine,” I assure her before she can say anything. “Y’all have a good night.”
Pushing through the door, I head to my truck and gently set her inside on the passenger side. Once she’s in the seat, I stretch the seat belt over her chest and click it into place. Her head hangs forward, making all of her beautiful, thick dirty-blonde hair fall over her face.
Gently, I push her hair away from her face and dip my head closer. “Let’s get you home, Poppyseed.”
Before I can back away, her hand grabs my forearm. “I got drunk because I kept wanting to call you.” She hiccups. “I thought … I just need to drink enough to not think about Walker freaking James for one night of my life.” Her eyebrows pull together, and she’s somewhere between laughing and crying in her drunken stupor. “All I do is think about you. And I’m tired. I’m tired of it. So, if you could please just get out of my brain so that I can go back to my life, that’d be great,” she slurs, swaying her head back and forth.
“Poppy, I’m here right now because I couldn’t stand the thought of you drinking and getting taken advantage of.” I cup her face. “Also, for years, I’ve woken up every morning worried that today would be the day you met the man who’d be yours forever. And it’s still no different.” I swallow before breathing in her sweet cinnamon scent. “I’m not ready to let you go.” I breathe out a laugh. “What the fuck am I saying? I’ll never be ready.”
Her bloodshot eyes look up at me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell the police officers the truth.” Her lip trembles. “I haven’t been a good friend.”
I think those words are something I’ve waited to hear for so long. But now, they don’t really matter because I realized weeks ago that I never had a right to be mad to begin with. Not really anyway.
Pressing my lips to her forehead, I kiss her warm skin. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry that I abandoned you. All of you.”
She’s silent before she pulls back, pushing her head into the headrest. “Walker … I don’t feel so good.”
All at once, she unbuckles and slides out of the seat and pukes in the parking lot. Pulling her hair back, I find an elastic on her wrist and tie it up before rubbing her back.
“It’ll pass,” I mutter as she throws up again.
“I’ve never drunk this much before,” she croaks out, still keeled over. “I never want to again either.”
Once she stops getting sick, I wipe the tears from her eyes, causing her makeup to run under them, making black streaks. Normally, she doesn’t even wear makeup, but given her performance tonight, she has it on.
“I’m so embarrassed that you just saw me do that,” she groans. “Literally want to die right now.”
“I’ve seen you throw up a lot more times before tonight.” I chuckle. “You forget those times you had the flu as a kid.”
“You always stayed home from school to be with me,” she whispers. “And miraculously, you’d never get sick.”
“Tough immune system, babe.” I wink before taking her hand and directing her back into the truck. “Let me give you a ride home so you can sleep this off.”
She doesn’t protest, but instead climbs into the truck and closes her eyes again.
***
Poppy
I wake up, and right away, I’m greeted by a pounding so deep in my skull that I can hardly lift my head. And the nausea? Oh … the freaking nausea.
I’m never drinking again.
The last thing I remember is leaving Club 83 with Walker. I don’t really know how he got there, but I know he was there.
Memories of me puking my guts out and him tying my hair up and rubbing my back float back into my mind. He was so sweet. But I’m still so embarrassed. It’s one thing that he saw me throw up as a kid. It’s another to know we’ve hooked up, and he saw me splattering all the contents inside my stomach into the parking lot.
Kill me now.
Turning slightly, I see the note on my nightstand with two pills and a glass of what looks to be Coca-Cola beside them.
I had early practice, and from the sounds of you sawing wood, you were sleeping pretty well, so I didn’t want to wake you. Take the Tylenol and drink the flat-ass Coke. It’ll help, I swear.
—W
P.S. You still drool when you sleep.
I quickly wipe my mouth, but my head is pounding too hard for me to be embarrassed right now. I’d probably care more if he was someone new in my life. But the thing is, he and I have been through everything together. He’s seen it all. Embarrassingly enough.
Throwing the pills into my mouth, I swallow them down with what has to be the flattest glass of Coca-Cola in the world. And slowly, I slide out of bed and head to the shower.
I have no idea where last night left Walker and me. But I know one thing: when I think about seeing him again … my heart races a little, and my chest warms.
I know that I’m not in a place to give him all of me. And to be honest, there’s not much of me to give. But staying away from him is impossible. Because just like when we were kids … we always found our way to each other. I’m not sure if that will ever change.