Chapter 23
Now
Silas
“Will you drop it, Ellis?” I hear Micah’s voice say when I let myself in Ellis’s front door.
“I just don’t want you to default to firefighting,” says Ellis. “If it’s not what you really want to do.”
I stifle a groan. This conversation has been circling repeatedly, ever since Micah decided to start doing volunteer work at the station to get his foot in the door.
“Once again,” Micah says. “I spent my twenties chasing baseball. Anything else is going to be a default plan.”
“Well, then you don’t need to be in a rush to jump into the work. Get your EMT training and—”
“I am, Ellis. But I’m pushing thirty. I want to work, now.”
“You are working,” my sister chimes in. “You’re not just, like, languishing or something.”
Micah growls out a sigh. “Sage, I love you, but I’m not going to be your flower-delivery boy for the rest of my life.”
“I never said I expected you to be!” Sage cries in time with Ellis saying, “Watch your tone.”
“All of you, shut up,” I supply, making my grand entrance. All three of them roll their eyes at the same time. Look at that, I fixed it. They’re united in something once again.
“I agree with Silas,” Wren says, sliding a bowl of chips onto the counter beside some sort of dip. I help myself to both.
“And that is why you’re my favorite sister,” I joke, even though I’m huddling Sage into a one-armed hug as I say it.
“HEY!” Fisher yells, and Sage and I jolt in unison. I turn to where he’s loitering by the kitchen and see him pointing a pair of tongs at me. “Be. Nice.” He snaps them in warning.
“What the hell,” I whisper to Sage, who’s gone bright red beneath her freckles.
“Dial it down a notch,” she tells Fisher, giving him a placating smile. He gives me another dirty look and plants a quick kiss on her mouth when he walks past, a tray full of meat ready for the grill.
“Jesus. What’s with him? You know I was kidding, right?” I say under my breath.
“Yes,” Sage assures me. “He’s just having .
. . an intense moment. Walter sounds like he’s retiring and selling the diner.
For real this time. Among other things.” She reaches across me and plucks a chip from the bowl.
“More importantly, before she gets here, I want to know what the hell you’re up to with Bea Marshall.
I heard she adopted a cat. Did you forget you’re allergic?
Is she who you accidentally snogged?” Ellis and Wren have wandered into the corner of their kitchen, where Wren starts assembling something else.
He messes with her apron strings and says something in her ear that has her smiling in some private, intimate way.
“That’s exciting. About Walter,” I say to Sage.
Truthfully, I’ve known about the diner-Walter situation for a few months now, after he confided in me while I helped him replace the roof on his old shed.
Since he’s waffled back and forth about it the last couple of years, I opted not to share, knowing that Fisher’s had his eye on buying it and turning it into a place of his own.
There’s gossip, and then there’s being irresponsible with information.
“Fisher still trying to buy the place?” I ask.
“Maybe,” she clips. “Now answer me.”
I lift my shoulders and shove another chip into my mouth.
“Silas.”
I wait until I swallow. “Sage.”
She raises a brow and waits. I blow out a sigh. “We’re just friends. I’m just being a friend,” I say truthfully.
Her brow knits before she lets out one of her bubbly guffaws. “Yeah, okay. You’re just trying to be friends with the woman who looks like Jessica Rabbit trapped in a CW alternate universe, who you and Micah have drooled over since you were kids. Got it.”
Micah comes lumbering over and plops onto a stool at the island, hunching himself over the chip bowl like it’s his breakfast cereal. For being the biggest and most athletic out of all of us, he always seems to move in an abrupt, clumsy way. “You talking about Bea?” he asks.
I want to yank the ring out of his nose for no reason.
“You know you’re not gonna be able to wear that if you end up firefighting full-time, right?
” I’m not sure what it is about being around siblings that reduces us to the most childish versions of ourselves.
“And yes. I was just trying to convince Sage that I am not attempting to take advantage of a grieving woman who we’ve known for most of our lives, but apparently, this is inconceivable. ”
Sage’s mouth falls open in a little o, and I immediately regret being snide. I’ve managed to be the hurtful one, now. “It’s not inconceivable,” she says, blushing again to the tips of her ears. “I’m sorry.”
“’Sfine. Seriously. I get it. No big deal,” I say gruffly.
I’ve done my fair share of being selfish and self-serving.
Wanting things I shouldn’t. Taking things I shouldn’t have taken.
It’s not like I can blame her for the assumption.
I force my mouth to twitch into a smile.
“But I promise we’re just friends, and nothing too untoward is going on at the house.
And Bea is . . . she’s helping me, too.”
“Helping you with what?” Ellis asks from across the kitchen, concern etched into every line of his face. Micah chomps loudly on his chips, unconcerned, while Sage, Wren, and Ellis stare at me.
I’m not entirely sure what to tell them, because I don’t entirely know what I’m hoping for.
That helping her make peace with her grief and start a new chapter will put my shit in perspective where it belongs?
Maybe the only reason I’ve wanted to help is because she asked me to.
That she places any value in my help continues to make me feel . . . valuable.
But before I have to say anything, I’m saved by the doorbell.
I rush to the door to let Bea in, but get stuck when I throw it open and see her.
She’s wearing blue again, and it sets off the red in her ponytail.
A cropped tank top with a matching long skirt in the same print, checkered like a picnic tablecloth.
The toes of her boots stick out past the end of her skirt.
“I brought wine?” she offers like a question.
“That’s gre—”
“Do I look like Dorothy Gale in this?” she cuts in. “I do, don’t I? I didn’t even think about it until I was pulling into the driveway, but with the gingham and the red hair . . . You’re looking at me like I just hopped off the Yellow Brick Road.”
I’m looking at you like you strike me dumb with how pretty you are and like I know about all your sighs and sounds.
Living in the same house as you and your eye rolls and that mouth is what I imagine it’s like to be haunted.
I gather up my scattered wits. “Nah, wrong shade of blue, no ruby slippers. And no pigtails.” I need to walk myself back from the mental image of her in pigtails immediately.
“Why are you nervous?” I manage to keep my laugh contained.
“You’re nervous,” she grumbles.
“Right, well, cut me some slack. You just rode in on a tornado and dropped a house on my sister.” Also I’m still trying to forget the way you rode my lap.
She lets out a nasal sound. “I don’t know why I’m nervous, honestly. All of the Byrds at once, I guess? Sibling dynamics scare me a little.”
I hum. “Certainly valid.”
“Merritt’s sister never really warmed up to me,” she says.
“Well, my siblings already love you,” I assure her. “More time with you will only make them love you more.” Ask me how I know.
She smiles gratefully before she lets it fall. “They still don’t know about me trying to get pregnant, do they? I know it’s a juicy bit of news and all that, but I really don’t want it to get around in case it doesn’t—”
“I would never share that,” I tell her. I make sure I meet her eyes when I say it. “I figured you’d want some privacy about all of it. I did sort of allude to us helping each other out with something, though. I can’t imagine what they’re speculating.”
“Thank you,” she says, tension winking out of her.
I tip a nod at the house. “You want to come inside? Someone is bound to come out any second and make a comment about me keeping you to myself.”
The door swings open behind me before I hear Sage huff, “Are you going to let her inside or hog her out here on the porch all afternoon?”
I raise my brows at Bea. See?
She grins. Yeah, I see.
We’ve all gone on to have a great meal and evening. Bea gets along well with everyone, just like I knew she would. Her nerves melted away the minute Sage and Wren embraced her. Ellis has been warmer and livelier than any of us are used to, and Micah silently mooned over everything she said.
Wren and I were forced to endure their rendition of the birthday song, and when I blew out my candle and made my wish, Bea was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes again. I think I’ve probably used up my own wishes on myself, so I threw out one on her behalf.
I am currently washing empty plates at the sink, listening to the low chatter of everyone still outdoors, when Fisher comes in through the slider with a snort.
“Knew you were up to something,” he says. I follow his line of sight to the containers on the counter filled with leftovers. Carrot and hot honey corn bread, grilled ribs, and slabs of strawberry shortcake.
“It’s not all for me. Some of it’s for Bea, too.” I don’t mean for it to come out as defensively as it does. He swivels my way.
“You good?” he asks.
“Yep,” I say. “Are you good? You’ve been very hipster-Lurch today.” He’s hovering more intensely than normal. I watched him refill Sage’s water three times and replenish her plate just as many.
He mutters something under his breath but otherwise drops the subject, grabs a dish towel covered in smiling chilies that Wren put in Ellis’s stocking this past Christmas—clearly an inside joke I don’t require details on—and starts drying the dishes beside me.
Bea is next to filter back into the house, offering to help with cleanup until Fisher and I both shrug her off.