12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
I rush out onto the deck, leaving the chaos of shouting and laughter behind me. Anxiety’s claws loosen from my chest with each deep breath I take. The drilling headache lessens with the soothing cricket song.
It’s not often that I get overstimulated like this anymore, not like when I was a child. But frustrating that something I thought I had overcome could still tear me down in a nanosecond.
The back door opens, and the sound of cautious footsteps tap on the deck. Her vanilla scent drifts up as Maya rests her forearms on the railing and glances up at me. I knew she’d come find me eventually, but I’d hoped to have more time to think about how to explain things.
“You all right? Did someone say something to you? I’ll beat them up on your behalf.”
“You would, wouldn’t you?” I laugh at the thought. My eyes flutter closed. “Nah. I’m okay. Loud noises bother me sometimes, and it’s best if I just leave the room rather than yell at everyone. It’s not their fault I get like this sometimes.”
She loops her arm through mine, surprising me when she leans her head against my shoulder. “You can still yell at them. Especially my brother Juan. I’m sure he said something annoying tonight.”
My hand itches to wrap around her, to pull her close in a hug like I had earlier. But I don’t trust myself to not ask for more than she’s ready to give right now. To be safe, I tuck my fists in my pockets.
“But then I’d have to leave this special one-on-one party we are having right now.” I rest my jaw on her head, allowing this one gentle touch. “Nah, it’s not worth it.”
“Besides all the noise, are you having a good time?”
“Everyone has been nice. The tamales were good like you said. I think I ate too many.”
“That would make Mami’s day. We don’t have to stay the whole time, you know.” She squeezes my arm. “I appreciate the fact you came at all.”
“I want to stay. I just need to collect myself for a few minutes.”
“Take all the time you need. Do you want me to go inside or?—?”
“Stay. Please. Your presence is soothing.”
“I don’t think my cousins would agree with you.” She chuckles into my arm.
“Well, they’d be wrong.”
The peacefulness of the evening washes over us. Confessions about feelings, things I’ve never spoken about before, bubble up inside me. Nervously, I swallow them back down like a bad case of reflux, wondering how long I can hold off until it happens again.
Maya hums softly, content.
“You know this is kinda nice being out here with you. I didn’t realize how noisy it was in there until I stepped outside.” She glances around. “It’s a shame they don’t utilize this space more. It’s turned into a storage lot where my dad stows all his landscaping tools.”
Most of the yard is shaded by overgrown aspen trees, but the space available has rows of potted plants, bags of mulch, and different piles of rocks. Two riding lawn mowers are covered under tarps, and three sheds line the backyard with bags of fertilizer stacked outside.
“Do you think he would come out to Rocosa to spruce up my yard?”
“You don’t need it. It’s really lovely.”
“It could use some flowers, and I can’t remember which ones grow well together or which season to plant them. My granny usually handled those things.”
Despite it being four years after her passing, the stab of melancholy cuts into me deep, gutting me when I least expect it. A reminder that Granny isn’t here anymore, and those special moments of seeing her elbow-deep in her flower bed and singing at the top of her lungs would never happen again. There’d be no more reassuring hugs or sitting on the porch under the stars with her.
She is gone... and I never got to say goodbye.
My breath catches at the thought, my eyes misting.
“Des?” Maya asks.
I try to shove the sadness back inside and shake off the ghosts of the past, but it’s harder this time, like somehow my heart cracked open again when I wasn’t paying attention. The last thing I need is to be a blubbering mess with Maya standing next to me.
But she surprises me and throws her arms around my middle, pressing her head into my shoulder in comfort.
I break. Tears spring up, sliding down my face as I cling to her, resting my cheek against her head. Years of memories flood me, threatening to pull me under again to all the doubts and regrets. In that dark place, I hear Maya’s soft words whisper over me, piercing through the void.
“I’m here.”
Then she prays. Words that fill me with strength and hope followed by a peace I hadn’t realized was missing.
After a few minutes, I take a shaky breath and swipe a sleeve across my eyes. “I don’t think I’ve cried like that since her funeral.”
“Good. You’ve been storing it up, and it needed to be released. From what you told me, she has a special place in your heart. You’re going to feel her loss from time to time when you least expect it—and that’s okay. Don’t bottle it up. Cry it out.”
“Thank you.”
I dash the last of the tears away, knowing I should feel embarrassed. I cried all over a girl I like and so desperately want to impress. But really, I feel closer to her now, connected almost. And the fact that she is still here, snuggling close, makes me like her even more.
Maybe more than I care to admit.
“We don’t have to stay any longer. I’m ready to head back to Rocosa if you are,” she says. Her fingers trace lazy shapes on my back as she waits.
“Sure.” I squeeze her once before letting her go, wishing we could stay in the moment.
As I pull back, Maya cups my face, freezing me in place. Her thumb brushes my damp cheekbone, and my focus pinpoints to her as the world around me fades away. Her glossy brown eyes hold my stare, searing me to my core.
“You’re going to be all right, Des. You just have a big heart, and big hearts bruise the easiest.”
A gentle gust teases the ends of her curls, waving them in the breeze. Unable to stop myself, I hold out a hand, letting the silky ends dance over my palm. In a brave move, I slide both hands into her hair, letting my fingers graze her scalp and tilt her face to mine. I inhale her delicious scent, the sweet vanilla that lingers on my jacket from our rides... one that I will never forget.
To say that Maya consumes my thoughts is the understatement of the year. Her lips call to me, begging me to lean down and kiss the fullness of her smile. Her pulse races behind her ear, and my thumb flicks one of her book earrings playfully. She smiles, a small one, fighting against her instinct to run from the romantic tension between us.
“I’m not going to kiss you,” I say.
Her throaty response nearly changes my mind. I can’t tell if it’s disappointment or confusion.
“I’m not,” I repeat, reminding myself more than her when I catch myself easing forward an inch so that our noses touch. “I want you to be sure first. Of me. Of us. No New Year’s resolutions between us and no regrets.”
She lets out a little sigh, which sends a warm rush of air across my lips. I nearly cave at the tingling sensation, and I hover on the brink of devouring her mouth until all her fear and worry disintegrates in the heat of our embrace.
But I don’t. Instead, I press a soft kiss on her nose in a promise.
“I will wait for you,” I say before pulling back.
Her eyes sparkle as she scans my face.
“How do you always know what to say?”
“I’m just honest.” And because I’m weak, I touch her cheek one more time, savoring the warmth of her tan skin under mine. “Maya, I’d wait forever for you.”
I hadn’t planned on saying that last part and for good reason. Her eyes fly wide, and she stumbles back, ducking away from my intensity. I’m moving too fast.
Clearing my throat, I tuck my hands in my pockets and give her some space.
“Let’s head back in and say goodbye,” I suggest. “And I might see if I can take some tamales home with me.”
Maya laughs, her nerves settling as we head back inside. “She’ll pack you a whole meal if you let her.”
Her vanilla scent drifts up from my clothes as I follow her, my shirt and skin covered in her perfume. Smiling, I hope there’s never a day when I don’t smell of perfection.
I sit on Holt’s unofficial pew at church beside Aunt Birdie and glance at the empty spot on my other side. Years ago, this whole row used to be completely full with my family and hers, but today, it’s only the two of us. I specifically sent a text to Reese this morning, reminding her what time church started. But I give up hope when we stand and the organ starts to play the first hymn of the service.
Aunt Birdie loops her arm through mine, singing a beautiful soprano that pours from her heart. My bass joins her, but I know it’s quiet and full of worry as my thoughts circle around my sister.
When we sit, she leans in to whisper, “She’ll come back. Don’t you worry. God’s not done with her yet.” She’s right, as she always is, and I say another prayer for my sister in hopes of the lost sheep eventually finding its way back home.
The service ends at noon, and I practically race toward the chapel doors. Small talk and sometimes even just the thought of it makes my anxiety spike. Most of the members know, giving me a friendly wave as I bolt out the doors into the fresh Colorado air. Main Street stretches before me, a long, straight street busy with customers and tourists. At the end of the road is Storybook Inn, the vibrant red exterior visible even this far away.
A motorcycle’s acceleration catches me off guard, and a familiar bike turns onto the street in my direction. Chris approaches at a leisurely pace, appearing to record some content, as his crazy antenna camera is attached to his helmet. He throws up a hand when he notices me and parks in front of the church’s curb.
“Hey, man. What brings you to the mountains?” I hold out a fist, and he bumps it with his gloved hand.
Chris lifts up his visor, squinting in the sun. “I’m stopping by to see my mom, but I wanted to drop off this special delivery.”
“For Holt? He’s not?—?”
“For you. Chantelle told me to guard this with my life. Something for Reese I guess, and book related based on the weight.” He groans as he grabs the handles of a paper bag. “It’s like carrying a ton of bricks in my backpack.”
Oooh. Books. The ones I asked for Maya.
I take it from him and try to peek inside, but it’s full of pink tissue paper. I’ll just have to hope it’s the right thing and she likes it.
“You’ve been quiet lately... more than your usual quiet. Everything good with you?”
Déjà vu hits me, reminding me of when Chris bumped into me on this same street three and a half years ago. Back then, I was lost in grief after burying one of the most important people in my life. Then Reese left me, desperate to heal her wounds in her drink. Meanwhile, I drove around on my dirt bike, annoying my neighbors to no end, searching for a place to belong.
Thank God Chris talked to me that day and helped me realign my internal compass. And I’m still thankful for Chris today, for taking time to check on me when he’s always so busy.
“The usual first week of school drama, but otherwise I’m good.” My thoughts turn to Maya, and my voice softens. “It’s really good.”
With a grin, he pats my shoulder. “That’s great, Des. You had me worried when you split from our ride. You know we joke around because we care, but you say the word, and I’ll make sure they ease up on you if you need it. I don’t want you to disappear on us one day. My sister already did that, and I don’t want to lose a good friend too.”
“They’re fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”
Nodding, he pats my shoulder again.
The doors behind us open, and Chris frowns at the crowd pouring through the opening. He quickly flips his visor down. “Gotta run, man. I don’t want to get caught up in a conversation and be late. You better not be skipping our next weekend at Brokedown. I better see your face there.”
I laugh. “I’ll be there.”
He revs the engine twice before merging into traffic and heading up to the ritzy section of the mountain.
The weight in my hands reminds me that Chris’s special delivery has now become mine. I cross the street and rush to the library, only to be disappointed when I find it locked up with a giant closed sign on the window.
To be honest, I have never been interested in the library’s hours until today.
“Hey, you. Trying to break in to check out a book?” Maya laughs as she jogs up next to me, her long floral dress swaying with her strides.
“Where did you come from?” I glance around the street.
“Church.”
My eyebrows shoot up, and she answers my question before I can ask it.
“I snuck in right when it started. I planned to say hi to you after the service, but you literally bolted out the doors.”
“It was a fast walk.”
“You were sprinting. The preacher said amen and you just—?” she slides her right hand off her left in a quick gesture “—? boom . I just wanted to make sure you were good. No fire or anything.”
“Man, everyone is checking on me lately.”
She winks. “Sounds like a good problem to have. Was that one of your gang members waiting for you?”
“ Group , Maya. My backpack should know this by now.”
“I do.” She beams a mischievous smile at me. “And I like it when you call me your backpack. But that doesn’t explain why you are breaking into the library?”
“Oh. I have something for you.”
“For me?” She blinks, not prepared for my response.
“Here.” I hand her Chantelle’s paper bag, careful to support the bottom.
“Des... what on earth did you... is this a book box? Oh my goodness, I’m hyperventilating. Does that say Evie freaking Chandler?” She bounces on her toes and switches to Spanish as she rambles.
I cut in. “She’s a friend of mine.”
“What— what ? You know her?”
“Just another member of my ‘gang’ that you make fun of.”
“Oh, no... no. Please tell me you didn’t tell her I make fun of your biker group.”
I resist the urge to torture her. “You can rest easy. I didn’t tell her.”
She sighs, laying a hand on her chest.
“Well, are you going to open it or just hold it all day?” I press.
Hot pink paper goes flying in the air. Maya squeals and swoons over the limited-edition paperback and nearly faints when she sees it’s a signed copy. Then she weirdly smells the pages as she flips through them.
Is that something normal people do with a book?
I don’t have time to contemplate the answer as she shoves an apple-and-something candle under my nose, gushing about stickers, candy, and deluxe artwork hidden within the hot pink shredded crinkle paper in the box. Her eyes mist as she reads the blurb on the back aloud, and just when I think she is finished, she dances in a circle, her hair whipping around her.
The joy etched across her face lights a flame in my chest. Now I have the sudden urge to buy her every book in the bookstore just to see her reaction again.
“Des, seriously... I don’t know what to say. Nobody has ever bought me something like this before.” Lovingly, she tucks it all back in the box and hugs it to her chest.
“So . . . you like it?”
“Are you blind? I love it!” She launches herself into my arms, and I pull her close until there isn’t an inch of space between us. Just like yesterday, I savor every second she lets down her guard with me. I’m almost holding my breath, afraid that one sudden movement will make her pull away.
“How are you this amazing?” she mumbles into my shirt.
“Am I?” How could she ask the same question I’m thinking about her?
“Of course you are.” She sighs and glances up at me. “I guess that makes my surprise for you less exciting.”
“Oh?” But my “oh” fades away as she pulls from my embrace.
“Today I’m making your batch of sugar cookies plus some chocolate chip cookies. Plenty of sugar for grading papers this week.” She picks up her bag and cradles it like a newborn. “If I don’t get lost in these pages, I mean. I’ll drop off your cookies at the school tomorrow. All right, I promised Julia I’d hang out with her after church.”
My stomach drops as she starts to back away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say.
She walks a few steps before turning back and racing into my arms for another hug. “Seriously, the best gift, Des.”
Then she sprints off down the street toward the church.
I dig my phone from my pocket and send Chantelle a text.
How do I sign up for all your books for life?