Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
FLETCH
Ikissed Poppy Lewis.
And I liked it.
This is all I could think of when Maggie plowed away the snow surrounding our car. It was the only thing on my mind as she handed us all shovels and she, Pat, and Terry helped us dig the car out so we could finally get on the freshly plowed road at 8:30 a.m.
And it’s been bouncing in my head for the last six hundred and eighty-six miles on the open road.
What have we done for the last six hundred and eighty-six miles?
Listened to music?
Yup.
Binged Beyond Justice episodes? Even debated half of them?
Yup and yup.
Talked about the fact that we kissed?
Nooope.
It’s already early evening, thanks to our delayed start and a time zone change.
The fact that we’ve driven for ten hours and still have ten more to go to get to Rochester is driving me nuts.
Yeah, we’ve had some problems come up, but it feels like the universe has conspired to make sure we never get to Rochester.
We’re halfway through Indiana now, and we’re going to have to stop for gas and an actual meal. Is there really a chance we won’t talk about the fact that we kissed?
I wouldn’t mind.
The problem is, I can’t stop thinking about her lips. My hoodie bunched in her hand, her tugging me closer—
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I pull it out to see a voice message from Evan. I read it rather than listening.
Hey bro period just checking how things are coming period Dad said you were delayed in Kansas period are you moving now question mark we’re all eager to see you period
A moment later, there’s another voice message.
Sloane reminded me I don’t need to say the punctuation in voice messages comma but she can’t stop me period can you babe question mark
Great. Just great.
“Uh, hey, I need to send my brother a voice memo. He doesn’t do great with texts. Do you mind?”
“Not at all!” Poppy says, pausing the podcast. Her face flushes, and I realize she’s been a little pale all day.
The tightness around her eyes looks like she’s in pain, and knowing it’s gotta be exhaustion makes me feel all kinds of guilty.
I tried driving again this morning—wedged myself behind the wheel, adjusted the seat as far back as it would go—but my knees were jammed against the dashboard and I couldn’t reach the pedals properly.
After watching me struggle for five minutes, Poppy gently touched my arm and said, “Hey, why don’t I just drive? I really don’t mind.”
When I started to argue, she smiled that determinedly cheerful smile and added, “I can already tell I’m a way better driver than you are, and neither of us needs to worry if you’ll be able to un-jam your leg in order to brake in time. Please. Let me drive.”
She was so sweet and teasing, somehow making it sound like I’d be doing her a favor. Classic Poppy.
Plus, she was right. Doesn’t make me feel any less guilty, though.
But we have a plan: she’ll drive another three hours until we stop to sleep in Columbus, Ohio. In two separate rooms.
I take a breath and then hit record on my phone.
I have to talk louder than I want to over the sounds of the road.
“Hey, bro. We’re making progress. Just outside of Indianapolis, so we’re going to stop for gas and dinner, then we’ll keep going.
We’re staying in Columbus tonight. We’ll plan to get on the road around six in the morning, and we should get to Rochester by noon.
I’ll make it in time for your rehearsal dinner. ”
Evan’s response comes back only seconds later. I’m reading the transcript, but a bump in the road makes the phone jump, and I accidentally hit the listen button with my thumb. Evan’s voice is loud over the speakerphone, filling the car with a strong, suggestive voice.
“Who is we question mark are you bringing a girl home question mark question mark”
My face feels like it’s roasting over an open fire.
“Does he say the punctuation, too? I do that every time!” Poppy says, a pink tinge to her round cheeks. It’s nice of her to try to pretend his comment doesn’t mean anything after we kissed.
But we kissed, so it feels like it means something.
Although it clearly doesn’t.
“Yup,” I say, feeling a mix of annoyed and unsettled. Why won’t she talk about the kiss? She talks about everything. And why did Evan have to pick up on me saying “we?”
“I’m just … gonna … call Evan.”
She nods.
“Hey,” I say as soon as he picks up. I angle my body toward the window, watching the snowy plains give way to suburbs.
The window is too thin to keep the cold out, and I’m suddenly glad of it.
I’m burning up in here. “No, I’m not bringing anyone home.
A … friend and I both got stranded at the Denver airport.
She’s from Rochester, too, so we rented a car together. ”
“She?” Evan’s disbelief is well placed. “You don’t have any friends left in Rochester, let alone female friends. Who is she?”
I catch a glimpse of my reflection—my eyes look guilty. But he’s not here to call me on it, so I pretend he didn’t ask about Poppy and instead answer the question I wish he were asking. “Yup, we’re making progress.”
“Bro, are you pretending we’re having a different conversation so this girlfriend of yours doesn’t know we’re talking about her?”
I grit my teeth. “We won’t be driving through the night, no,” I say. “The weather’s too bad to risk it.”
He huffs, and I think it’s a laugh until I hear him whispering something to Sloane. Then he asks, “But you’re sure you’ll be here tomorrow, right? You’ve gotta be here, bro.”
My irritation is growing by the minute. Yeah, this week is important, but my family is acting like I’m sabotaging events on purpose.
“I’m trying, man. I can’t control the weather.”
I hear some muttering that sounds like cursing and a phantom twinge stabs my left wrist. I rotate it, feeling the familiar grinding at the movement.
Evan’s changed a lot since his accident, and honestly, so much of it’s for the better.
He always acted like he was the Good Lord’s gift to mankind.
My dad and Granddad were hard on me, but I kept my head down and did everything they told me to.
Ran every drill until my legs were buckling from exhaustion.
Evan didn’t.
He went to practice. Played hard when he was on the field, but he was a crappy teammate. And when it came to all the extras? Not a chance was Evan doing it.
If Dad snapped at him, Evan clapped back. If Granddad barked at him, Evan bit.
So instead, they turned their focus to me. The older brother who never stepped out of line while the younger got a pass.
He’s always gotten a pass. And I’m not the one who’ll take it away, especially not now.
“Ollie,” Evan says, “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Okay.”
“You know Darren—”
“Actually, we’re getting close to our next pit stop. I should go.”
“Stop,” Evan says. “I know you hate the guy, but—”
“But nothing, Evan. That’s all that needs to be said. I hate the guy. What’s to talk about?”
There’s a long pause. “Does this make you happy?”
“What?”
“Your anger. Is it making you happy?”
“Did yours?” I wince the second the words are out of my mouth. “Never mind. I gotta run.”
“Ollie—”
I hang up and then drag my palm down my face.
“Everything okay?” Poppy asks.
I should bottle it up like I usually do—ignore the pressure and keep my bubbling anger in. But I feel like a bottle of Coke, and Evan just dropped in a whole pack of Mentos—
“No,” I explode, my voice too loud for the tiny car, but I can’t keep it in any longer.
“It’s not okay. What’s he bringing up Darren for?
How is the weather my fault? Why is it that Evan always got a pass when I’m the one who did everything right?
Evan fought with my dad every day, ignored him, stayed out late, got drunk, partied, whatever he wanted.
I was the one doing drills all weekend long instead of going out with friends.
So why was I the one who got yelled at? What’s my big sin, Poppy?
Crowding the plate? Then every batter in history is going down with me! ”
I shake my head, staring at the snow-covered fields. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?” Poppy asks quietly.
“I don’t know. I don’t have a freaking clue.”
She pauses. “That sucks.”
I sniff sharply. “It really does.” I watch the countryside pass, a mix of fields and buildings, the occasional twinkle of Christmas lights. But I can see Poppy’s reflection in the glass, too, the worry on her brow that shows she cares. I don’t know if it makes me feel better or worse.
“I’m going to pull off here,” her voice says softly, and soon, we’re at a gas station with a roadside diner attached.
After a fill-up and bathroom break, she finds me sitting at a booth with two menus. When the server comes, I brace myself for Poppy to say we need a minute.
“Do you guys know what you want?”
She closes the menu after a quick scan and hands it to the server. “I’ll have the Monster burger with bacon, medium rare, no pickles or onions.” She smiles. “Oh, and could you add mustard?”
“Gross,” I mutter, earning a look from Poppy.
“And you?” the server asks.
“I’ll have the same,” I say. “But no mustard.”
When the server leaves, I rap my fingers on the knee of my jeans and study Poppy.
She’s small enough that if she backed up in the booth, I’m not sure her feet would even touch the ground.
Her short hair frames her face in a way I like a little too much, especially when she wrinkles her nose like that.
She’s so cute, it’s annoying.
And with that quirk of her lips—
Those lips—
Heat fills my abdomen, and I take a long drink of ice water to douse it.
Poppy grabs a napkin and wipes it over nose and mouth. “Do I have something on my face?”
“You got it,” I lie.
Her eyes go huge, and she covers her nose. “I did have something? What was it?”