4. June
June
Iwatched from the kitchen window throughout the afternoon as Julian spent hours in the sweltering heat. He’d promised Nana he would finally fix the sagging support beams on the back porch, a job her arthritis had made impossible and that my parents had never cared enough to help replace.
He had his shirt sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, sweat making the fabric cling to the broad expanse of his back.
I found myself unable to look away, my sketchpad forgotten on the table.
He moved with a focused strength, his muscles rippling as he hoisted the heavy timber into place.
He looked so normal, so good, as he laughed at one of Nana’s old stories while she brought him glasses of iced tea.
He was the hero of our small world, filling the gaps left by two addicts and a crumbling house. He made himself indispensable, I couldn’t remember what it felt like not to have him around.
By the time he had finished, the late summer night was perfect, the kind of night you desperately never want to end, terrified that if it does, it might never happen again.
The air was thick and warm, smelling of freshly cut grass and the sweet honeysuckle that strangled Nana’s back fence. We were lying side by side on an old quilted blanket, far enough from the porch light that the fireflies looked like sparks from a dying fire drifting over our faces.
I loved these nights. After the chaos of the school hallways and the suffocating feeling of being property, lying here with Julian was the only time I felt at peace.
My fingers were laced through his, his palm solid and calloused against mine.
I was eighteen now, and the way I saw him was changing drastically, shifting from the protective family friend who fixed our leaky roof into something far more dangerous to my heart, and body…
. I found myself noticing the way his forearms flexed beneath his rolled-up sleeves, the dormant strength he carried as if it were a burden he was used to.
My eyes locked onto the heavy, veiny lines of his arms, and a sudden heat flared beneath my skin.
Fuck. Someone get me some holy water before I end up in a confessional.
“I read something that reminded me of you today,”
He began to recite, his voice a low, melodic vibration that seemed to hum right through the air and into my brain. It was Emily Dickinson.
“Forever is composed of Nows
It is not a different time
Except for Infiniteness
And Latitude of Home ”
A swarm of butterflies erupted in my stomach, a dizzying flutter that made it hard to draw a full breath.
It was our strongest bond—this shared language of ink and longing.
Every time he recited a new poem, it felt like he was reaching inside my chest and touching my soul with his fingers.
I couldn’t ignore the way my heart hammered in my chest when he spoke like that, His words turning my shadowed thoughts into a sky full of rainbows.
“Do you believe that?” I whispered. “That forever is just a string of right nows?”
He turned his head on the blanket, his eyes studying me with an intensity that made the air grow thick and heavy. “I believe that some ‘nows’ are worth an eternity, June. And I believe that for you, I would stretch a single moment until it touched the end of time.”
I turned onto my side, propped on an elbow. “Look,” I whispered, tilting my head back until my neck ached. “The Big Dipper is right over the oak tree tonight.”
I felt the slight movement of his head turning on the blanket, his eyes studying me in the dim light. I always felt his observation more acutely in the dark, it was heavier, more intense.
“It’s a magnificent illusion,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. “The stars are already dead, June. You’re looking at a memory of light. The closer you get to the truth of something, the less it resembles the picture you’re looking at now.”
Nobody had ever paid attention to me like Julian.
My parents certainly hadn’t, they were ghosts long before he came into my life, lost in the fog of their own bad decisions.
I had been a hollow girl until the Blackburns arrived to fill the gaps with groceries, repairs, and this—this terrifying, beautiful devotion that bordered on a sick possessiveness.
He reached out, his hand cupping my cheek. His thumb traced the line of my lower lip, a touch so light it made me shiver. “You are brilliant and beautiful, June. And I need to know every part of you.”
He leaned in, his face inches from mine.
I could smell the cedar and spice that always clung to him, feel the heat of his breath.
My eyes drifted shut, my heart racing as I tilted my head up, craving the contact I knew was coming.
The world narrowed down to the space between our lips, a space that felt like it was finally about to vanish.
“June! Dinner’s ready!”
Nana’s voice cut through the quiet. I jumped, my eyes opening as I jerked back, my face flooding with frustration and an underlying embarrassment. I sat up, smoothing my hair with trembling hands, feeling utterly exposed.
“I—I should go,” I stammered.
Julian sat up slowly, his expression calm, though his eyes still held a lingering, dark intensity.
I watched him walk away towards the manor on the hill a few minutes later, wondering why the butterflies in my stomach felt so much like a warning.
The evening air was still buzzing when Annie’s car pulled into the driveway. Annie was my sister in every way that mattered, although she was technically my cousin. Since she moved away, our sleepovers at Nana’s—the one normal thing I had left, were becoming fewer and farther between.
“Is the plan still on?” Annie whispered the second she dropped her duffel bag onto my rug. Her eyes were bright with a spark of mischief I hadn’t seen in weeks.
“Midnight screening,” I confirmed, a mischievous grin tugging at my lips. “A Nightmare on Elm Street. Nana thinks we’re tucked in watching The Breakfast Club with a bowl of popcorn before bed.”
Technically, I was old enough to buy the tickets, but Annie was still a year shy of the rating.
Even if she weren’t, Nana would have never allowed it.
With our family history—the tragedies that always seemed to lurk just out of sight, she had become a living fortress of overprotection.
To her, we weren’t teenagers, we were fragile little porcelain dolls she still treated like little girls, convinced that if she let us out of her sight for one second, the world would swallow us whole.
“So,” she said, flicking her eyes up. “What’s the deal with the two guys down the street? Julian and… what’s the scary ones name? Cain?”
I felt that familiar flutter. “They’re fine, Annie. They’re just… different.”
“Different is an understatement, June. The way they look at you creeps me out. Especially Cain. He looks like he’s looking for a fight even when he’s standing still. Like he’s just waiting for someone to trip so he can pounce.”
“Don’t worry about them,” I said, brushing my hair to hide my blush. “They’re like family.”
“Family? Please...” Annie scoffed, leaning in with that prodding, little cousin energy that always managed to get under my skin. “How old are they anyway? Way too old to be hanging out with you every day, I can tell you that much! It’s weird if you ask me.”
“They aren’t that much older, Annie! Plus, they’re family friends. Nana knew their grandmother before she passed… and they just help around the house now…”
Annie raised an eyebrow, her gaze lingering on me with heavy suspicion.
She didn’t buy the ‘handyman’ excuse for a second.
She nudged me, her eyes suddenly twinkling with dangerous playfulness.
“I’ve never seen you look at anyone in our family the way you look at Julian, June…
But just wait. Once we finally trade this town for the city, you’re going to be a brilliant artist. Or maybe a primary school art teacher, showing a room full of kids how to find the colours in a grey world.
I can see you now, tucked away in a loft, your hair a mess and your skin covered in smears of oil paint and charcoal.
Out there, Julian and his evil twin will just be a faint, fading memory from a life you outgrew. ”
“And I’ll be at the zoo. No people drama.”
“Definitely the zoo,” I joked. “Except for the monkey trip.”
Annie groaned, covering her face. “Oh god, don’t bring up the monkey.”
“I have to! You stood there, and that thing looked you dead in the eye, wound up like a pro baseball player, and chucked a handful of monkey shit right at your forehead.”
“It was a banana peel, June! A slimy, wet banana peel!” Annie was shaking with laughter. “And you weren’t helping! You were wheezing like an old man.”
“I couldn’t help it! You did a little frantic dance, and—”
“And I peed my pants,” Annie finished, her voice rising in a hysterical squeak. “I literally peed my pants in front of the whole third grade. And I had to wear that ‘I Heart The Zoo’ t-shirt as a dress for the rest of the day.”
We dissolved into fits of giggles until the sun dipped well below the horizon. We waited until Nana’s loud snores began to echo through the hall, then we slipped out the window, our sneakers hitting the grass with a soft thud.
The theatre was a neon beacon in the dark.
We lingered near the entrance, waiting for the usher to turn his back.
The second he walked away, we made a hurried beeline for the 18+ screening of A Nightmare on Elm Street.
We slipped into the darkened room, the smell of buttery popcorn and stale soda thick in the air.
We found seats in the back corner just as the trailers started.
“We made it,” Annie hissed, grinning.
I sank into the velvet seat, my heart still racing.
For the first time in weeks, the heavy, protective weight of the twins couldn’t have felt further away.
Here in the dark with my best friend, I was happy, breathless, and totally unaware of the cold, familiar eyes watching from the shadows in the back row.