Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
STEVIE
F ive months later . . .
Maverick’s truck was in my parents’ driveway. In my parking spot.
“Seriously?” I muttered, pulling my red Jeep to the curb.
What was he doing here? My question was answered when the devil himself came sprinting around the side of the garage, arms raised to catch a football that soared over the roof of the house.
Maverick caught it and let out a whoop. “Got it!”
Thirty seconds later, Dad came jogging around the garage, hand raised in the air to give Maverick a high five.
This wasn’t the first time I’d come home to find Dad playing football with Maverick. It also wasn’t the first time they’d challenged each other to toss the ball over the house and see if the other person could catch it in time.
The ladder was propped against the side of the house. Apparently, their earlier attempts hadn’t gone as well as this one .
I shut off the engine and, on a sigh, climbed out of the Jeep.
“Hey, Steve,” Dad called.
“Hi, Dad.” My lip curled from the nickname I’d loathed since middle school—and from the sneer Maverick sent my way.
“Adair,” Maverick drawled in his familiar baritone. It could have been a nice voice if it wasn’t always laced with contempt.
“Houston.”
Maverick tossed Dad the football. “One more time, Deck?”
“Let’s do it. Ready?”
“Go.” Maverick tore off around the house as Dad loaded up the ball and launched it over the roof. The second the ball was flying over our two-story house, he ran off toward the backyard to see if his throw had made it.
Given the cheers that came a moment later, I guess that was a yes.
With any luck, Maverick would leave now that they were done playing around. I needed a night sans Maverick’s attitude.
Since Thanksgiving, he’d been nearly unavoidable. My parents and his parents had gone into hyperdrive, organizing impromptu family breakfasts and lunches and dinners. I’d spent the last five months suffering through Maverick’s company over way too many meals simply because it made Meredith happy to have us all together.
We were all focused on Meredith, trying to soak up as much time with her as we could manage.
If it were just the family functions, I probably could have tolerated Maverick. But the guy was freaking everywhere lately. In my four years at Treasure State University, I’d rarely crossed paths with him on campus.
This past semester? It was like our routes between lecture halls were always colliding. Even when I took the long way around, going out of my way to avoid the more crowded common areas, there he was. Walking with other guys on the football team. Flirting with some girl on a bench. I’d even bumped into him at Dolly’s Diner the other night when I’d gone out to eat with my roommate Jennsyn.
At least the campus run-ins would be over soon enough. It was May, and in just a few more weeks, I’d be a college graduate. There’d be no more passing him in the hallways of the student union or seeing him in the fieldhouse gym.
And beyond that, well... I didn’t want to think about how everything was going to change after Meredith died.
Our family, his and mine, would never be the same.
The idea of losing her made my throat burn, but I swallowed it down and went inside the house, where Mom and Meredith were in the living room on the couch.
Meredith was on the left side of the couch. Mom was on the right. My entire life, those were the seats they’d choose for the nights when Meredith would visit Mom and they’d gossip and drink a glass of wine. Even as the couch had changed, their places hadn’t.
I couldn’t imagine a world where Meredith’s seat was empty. Where she wasn’t just down the block if I ever needed advice or a warm hug.
When I’d run away from home at seven years old, it was to Meredith. I’d arrived at the Houstons’ house with my backpack loaded with my favorite stuffie and a box of snacks. She’d come to nearly as many of my volleyball games as my parents. In a neighborhood brimming with boys, she always made sure to celebrate that I was a girl by painting my nails or braiding my hair.
We all needed Meredith, and she was withering away before our eyes.
I’d learned more about cancer treatment in the past five months than I’d ever cared to know. Chemotherapy. Consolidation. More chemotherapy. Growth factors. An autologous stem cell transplant. Bone marrow biopsies. Drug trials.
Through it all, the leukemia cells remained.
Despite the palliative treatment and supportive care, the cancer was killing her.
She kept getting thinner and thinner. After the induction chemo, she’d lost her hair. The green floral silk scarf she was wearing today was one I’d bought her when I’d gone to Hawaii with Mom and Dad for Christmas.
We’d all spent plenty of time researching her cancer. Researching options. None of us were giving up hope, but it was hard to feel much when the doctors tossed out statistics that seemed unbeatable. When the tests never came back in her favor.
So I took a moment to memorize her on that side of the couch before I walked into the living room.
“Hey.” I plopped down on the middle cushion and gave them both a hug. “How’s it going?”
“Oh, good. We were just chatting,” Mom said. “And listening to your dad and Maverick throw that ball over the house.”
“Or try.” Meredith laughed. “It took them a while. Maverick drove me over so we could hang out, but then your mom said you were coming over tonight and we decided we might as well eat dinner together. Monty is on his way. He’s getting pizza.”
That Meredith wouldn’t eat.
The current cocktail of drugs they had her on was ruining her appetite.
“You know I love pizza.” I smiled on the outside, and on the inside, I stuck out my tongue and blew.
I loved pizza. If it was made the way I loved pizza.
Extra sauce. Extra green peppers. I was okay with onions, olives and sausage, but I hated pepperoni and bacon and mushrooms.
Monty was a great man. He was Dad’s best friend, a great dad and grandfather. He loved Meredith and treated her like a queen—this cancer was eating him alive too. I’d known him my entire life, and if I ever needed help, besides my parents, Monty was the next person I’d call.
But he still believed that if I just tried pizza or tacos or cheeseburgers “his way” enough times, my tastebuds would magically change.
He’d show up tonight with a meat lover’s deep dish and a thin-crust supreme. Even if I picked off the mushrooms, I would still taste them.
I gagged even thinking about their texture.
It was fungus. Why was I the only person in this family who thought eating fungus was fraught with peril?
Whatever. I’d make chicken nuggets when I got home.
“I saw Mr. Wilson on his porch as I was driving over,” I told Mom and Meredith. “I flipped him off.”
“Good. What an asshole,” Mom grumbled.
Meredith’s nostrils flared. “I have never in my life wanted to throw eggs at a person’s house the way I want to with his. Maybe I will. ”
“You just name the night,” I said. “I’ll start stocking up on eggs. Let them rot for a bit so they’re nice and rancid. And I’ll get us some ski masks too so he doesn’t catch us on his doorbell camera.”
“I love this plan,” Meredith said, laughing with Mom.
Would we ever egg Mr. Wilson’s house? No. But we could dream.
Wilson was a crochety old man and the neighborhood grump. My sophomore year in high school, he’d decided that me running around the neighborhood in a sports bra and shorts was indecent exposure. He’d called the cops.
Nothing had come of it, but it had been devastating for me at that age. I’d been fifteen, tall and strong. I’d never been a slender, willowy girl. I loved volleyball and soccer and running. I was fit and muscular.
I loved my body. Now. But at fifteen, I’d been coming to terms with the fact that I was different than the petite, popular girls at the Oaks. And having a police officer show up at my door, telling my parents that a neighbor was offended with me flashing too much skin, had been a major hit to my confidence.
But I’d clawed it back, one middle finger to Mr. Wilson at a time.
The incident had caused such a disturbance with the homeowners association, that most people in the neighborhood hated Mr. Wilson. My parents had even considered moving, but they loved being close to the Houstons.
They’d met at an HOA meeting twenty-something years ago, before Maverick and I were born. Meredith and Mom had been pregnant at the same time, bonding at that HOA meeting over heartburn and swollen ankles.
They’d decided that the debates over paint color approvals and fence height limitations were too much drama, so they’d gone out for dinner instead.
They’d been best friends ever since.
Movement outside drew my attention. Maverick and Dad stood in the front yard, their tall, towering figures framed in the wide living room window.
Dad was talking, arms crossed over his chest. Maverick was nodding, the football tucked under his arm. Both had serious expressions. Then Dad held out his hand, taking Maverick’s in a shake. They grinned, then Maverick tossed the ball into the back of his truck before he came inside.
He walked to the kitchen, probably for a glass of water, lifting a hand to wave as he passed the living room.
“I’m going to go say hi to Dad.” I stood and slipped out the front door. Dad was still in the front yard, looking down the street. Waiting on Monty and the pizza. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, buddy.” He held out an arm, tucking me into his side for a hug. “How were classes today?”
“Fine.” I shrugged. “I’m ready to be done.”
“I’m ready for you to be done too. I think this is going to be our busiest year yet.”
Dad owned Adair Landscape and Nursery. He’d started the business when he’d moved to Mission, moved into this house. His first office had been in our basement. For years, money had been tight as he’d built the business, living mostly on Mom’s salary as a dental hygienist.
But with a lot of hard work, Adair had become the go-to landscaping company in Mission and the surrounding area. His reputation as a landscape architect was unparalleled.
I’d known since I was a little girl that someday I’d work for Dad. My major was environmental horticulture science, and as soon as I graduated, I’d go to work full-time for Dad. After I got some on-the-job experience, I’d work toward getting my own architecture license.
“It’s going to be a great season,” I told Dad.
Every summer since I’d turned sixteen, I’d worked at Adair, usually in our small garden center. This year, I’d be on landscaping sites with Dad and, hopefully, pick up a few small clients of my own to start building a portfolio.
“Yes, it is going to be a great season.” He hugged me tighter. “I just offered Maverick a job.”
“What?” My jaw hit the lawn as I stepped away. “Come again?”
“I offered Maverick a job.”
“No, you didn’t.” The color drained from my face.
Dad knew how I felt about Maverick. He knew we couldn’t be in the same room without bickering. And he’d offered him a job?
“Why?”
“Steve.” He stepped close, putting his hands on my shoulders. “Hear me out. It’s been a rough year for Maverick. He’s still got another season with the Wildcats, so it’s not immediate. He doesn’t want to work this summer, not with football and everything happening with Meredith. But after he graduates, it would be good to have someone to manage the business aspects of the nursery. Maybe look at expanding the garden center.”
Manage. There was no way I was hearing this right. “You asked Maverick to be the manager?”
That was Dad’s job. And eventually, it was supposed to be mine. Wasn’t it? But now he was giving it to Maverick?
I shook my head, trying to make sense of this decision. “I don’t understand. You’re the manager. I thought I was going to be the manager. ”
Did that mean he wasn’t going to let me run the business? Dad had always told me that Adair would be mine if I wanted it. And I wanted it. I’d always wanted it. Did he not think I was capable?
My heart started to fracture, tiny cracks that were growing and growing and growing, like roots spreading through soil. This wasn’t happening. How was this happening?
“Adair is yours.” He squeezed my shoulders, accentuating each word. “It’s always been yours. But you’ll need help. A business manager will free up your focus to be on landscaping and our customers. Let someone else deal with the staff and inventory and finances. You see how much I work.”
Yes, I did.
Mom always joked that Dad’s second wife was Adair Landscape. He worked tirelessly, year-round. And he’d been so successful that Mom had been able to retire early from Dr. Peterson’s office.
They’d bought me the Jeep for high school graduation. Had I not gotten a scholarship to play volleyball at Treasure State, they would have paid for my education. And they’d bought a house for me and my roommates to live in this past year so we didn’t have to rent—once I started full-time at Adair, I’d be purchasing it from them, getting a first-time homebuyer’s loan from the bank to build up my credit.
His hard work meant I’d been lucky. Incredibly lucky and fortunate. But I’d always planned to work that hard too. Always.
“I want to work hard too.” And if I decided someday I wanted to step back, couldn’t I hire a business manager?
“I don’t want this lifestyle for you,” he said. “You’re young. You’ll have plenty of years ahead to work your ass off. But I also want you to have help. To not feel like it’s all riding on your shoulders. I need you to trust me. I’m doing this for you.”
“And Maverick.”
He gave me a sad smile. “Yes. And Maverick.”
Because Maverick was the son Dad had never had. The son he’d always wanted.
If I was a boy, would we be having this conversation? Would he have decided to split his job in two, giving half to my archnemesis?
I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.
“Is this because of what’s happening with Meredith?”
“Not really.” He shook his head. “I’ve been thinking on this for a while. I don’t know what’s going to happen after Meredith...” Dies . None of us could say it. “But regardless, I would have offered this job to Maverick.”
So he’d been planning this for months and months. And rather than tell me about it first, he’d gone straight to Maverick with an offer.
He hadn’t even given me the chance to fight for Adair. To decide for myself how hard I was willing to work.
While my head was still spinning, Monty pulled into the empty space behind my Jeep.
“Hey, Monty.” Dad crossed the front yard to help carry in the pizzas.
Monty was still dressed in his suit and tie. He was a financial advisor, helping people with their investments and retirement. He had a business of his own too.
Mabel worked for Monty. She was beginning to build her own portfolio as well as take over pieces of his. Why couldn’t Maverick go to work for his own father ?
“Hi, Stevie.” Monty smiled as he walked up the driveway with Dad. He looked haggard, his suit not as well fitting as usual. He’d lost weight, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were becoming permanent.
I forced a smile. “Hi.”
“Hope you’re hungry.” He lifted both boxes of pizza while Dad trailed behind with a six-pack of beer and a bowl of salad.
“Starved,” I said.
“Coming in?” Dad asked.
“Yeah.” My throat felt raw, like I was on the verge of screaming or crying. But I swallowed past the burn and followed them inside, taking the pizza boxes from Monty so he could go and kiss his wife.
“How are you feeling?” he asked Meredith.
“I’m good. Hungry.”
We all heard the lie.
But at least she was here. At least she wasn’t in the hospital like she’d been during and after her treatments. At least she’d felt well enough today to leave the house.
I carried the pizza into the kitchen, taking out a stack of plates and a handful of utensils. Everyone filtered in behind me, dishing themselves a plate.
I wasn’t hungry. Not for pizza. Not after that announcement from Dad. But I took the smallest piece of the meat lover’s pie and joined everyone at the table, tearing off the crust to nibble on it as I picked off the pepperoni and flicked away bacon bits.
“Dad, you forgot breadsticks for the food princess,” Maverick said from his chair across the table.
My nostrils flared. Food princess? That was a new insult .
“Yes, I am a food princess. I’m picky. I know what I like.” I leveled him with a glare. “And what I don’t.”
He scoffed.
God, we couldn’t work together. What was Dad thinking? We’d kill each other.
My parents both shot me a warning glance.
Monty elbowed Maverick and gave him a slight headshake.
For years, our parents had tried to get us to make amends. They’d finally given up, choosing to simply accept our mutual hatred. They wouldn’t sacrifice their friendships with each other just because Maverick and I didn’t get along.
Part of me loved that they were so loyal to each other.
The other part wished my parents would have chosen me over the Houstons.
My only comfort was that for all of my suffering, Maverick had to suffer too.
For the most part, we did our best to ignore each other. Or we traded barbs when no one else was listening.
Maverick must have been feeling brave tonight to pick a fight with everyone at the table.
“Will you do something for me?” Meredith asked, placing her hand on her son’s.
“Sure, Mom.”
She gave him a sweet smile. “Go on a date with Stevie.”
The crust I’d just bitten off lodged in my throat and I coughed, clearing it out before I could choke.
A date? With Maverick? I let out a hysterical laugh. “No, thanks.”
“You must be feverish.” Mav put his hand on Meredith’s forehead .
“I’m serious,” she said. “I want you two to go on a date. Figure out a way to be kind to each other again.”
“That ship has sailed.” Maverick plucked a mushroom off his slice, popping it into his mouth, smirking as he chewed.
I gagged.
“Please?” Meredith clasped her hands together. “Consider it my dying wish.”
Maverick choked on his mushroom.