Twenty-Five
Winter
“Time to eat,” I say when I walk into the living room, and all my friends let out a cheer of excitement.
Everyone gets off the couches and heads to the dining room.
“Just grab a plate from the table and head to the kitchen to load it up,” I holler over my shoulder as I look around for my brother.
They give their agreements, but I don’t pay any attention to them as I leave the living room. My brother wasn’t there with them, which is weird.
I decide to check his room first.
The knock I give his door is tentative, since I’m not even sure he’s in there. Despite the quietness of the knock, Cypress is quick to open his door.
Standing in front of me is a completely different brother from the one I saw earlier.
Instead of the jeans and T-shirt he was wearing, he’s now dressed in a fresh outfit.
He’s donning dress pants—who even knew he had some of those—and they even have creases in the front like how fancy people do them when they iron them.
He’s also wearing a button-up with the sleeves rolled up.
I step back in shock and look at his face, which has been shaved.
Gone is the stubble he has been wearing for days, and his hair is wet but neatly styled, swooping away from his face.
My mouth fumbles with something to say, but I never quite get there before my brother asks, “Is it time to eat?”
“Yep,” I say in a voice that’s too high-pitched, since I’m still trying to pull myself from my stupor.
“Great,” he grunts before squeezing past me and jogging down the stairs.
It takes longer than it should for me to finally move down the stairs. I’m so confused by this turn of events. Why did my brother dress up for dinner with my friends? The rest of us are mostly wearing jeans and long sleeves.
When I make it to the kitchen, Saint gives me a curious look. “What’s with your brother?”
Unable to stop it, I burst into laughter, and he follows suit.
“I honestly have no idea what’s gotten into him.” I shake my head.
He loads my plate with slices of turkey. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“I guess,” I reply.
The two of us are the last to make it to the dining room, and the seats saved for us are on opposite sides of the table we extended this morning. The wood insert we added only gave the table maybe four additional feet of length, but the distance feels insurmountable after the morning we’ve had.
I take the open seat between Nora and Reign, and Ella Mae is placed on Reign’s other side. Saint takes the open seat between my brother and Royal.
After opening the wine Ella Mae brought with her, we pass it around, followed by the sides.
“This is amazing,” Royal says after one bite of the turkey.
I cut a piece and try it. Humming my agreement, I look at Saint and compliment, “This turned out great.”
A sheen of pink crosses his cheeks, but he raises his napkin up almost as if he’s hiding behind it while pretending to wipe his face.
“Glad you like it.”
“It’s definitely surpassed my expectations,” Reign adds. “I was worried we’d be fighting food poisoning since you two were the ones cooking.” She gestures between Saint and me.
Indignantly, I huff. “We wouldn’t have given anyone food poisoning.”
I’m met with several taunting comments. “If anything, it would have been cooked, just maybe overcooked and dry. But Saint did a really good job on the turkey, and no one is going to be tossing their cookies later.”
The meal is spent in jovial companionship. The girls try to ask me about my work, but I swiftly change the subject, asking Nora about herself. She fills us in on life in Seattle and what she’s been up to. My brother mostly stays quiet, but he listens intently when she speaks.
When we’re all done eating, the girls and I volunteer to clean up while the guys get started on the ramp for my dad.
We put away the leftovers and wash dishes, all the while chatting about old times and the new happenings.
When there are no dishes left to wash and all the food is put away, we crack open another bottle of wine and retreat to the living room, content to sit around talking while the guys do the manual labor.
A couple of hours pass faster than expected when Royal walks in the front door.
“I thought you guys were going to help us.” He huffs out while dusting off his hands on his jeans. “I see now, you sent us outside into the cold to work our butts off while you guys sit around.”
Ella Mae scoffs loudly. “You’re so dramatic.”
Reign sounds her agreement. “And it’s not even cold today.” Which is true. Despite the weather that caused my dad’s accident, it’s warmed up the past few days, and it’s in the fifties today.
“No sympathy, I tell ya,” he grumbles. “Well, it’s done if you ladies want to come check it out. There’s no risk of us tricking you into doing physical labor.”
We file outside, and happy tears form when I see the ramp. It’s perfect.
Cypress knocks on the wood railing. “Nice and sturdy.”
We all take turns complimenting the guys for their hard work, and I give each of them a hug in thanks, starting with my brother.
When I hug Royal, Saint holds a narrowed eye contact with me as if feeling possessive.
I smirk at him before pulling away. Then I give Saint a hug, but just to mess with him, I do it super awkwardly, holding my arms as far from his shoulders as possible, as if trying to do an air hug, which makes all our friends laugh.
The look he gives me when I pull away promises retribution later, and I can only hope he follows through.
Royal suggests we have a fire since it’s a rare warm night. A fire sounds perfect. Reign is always one to try to one-up her brother, suggesting we play cornhole. We agree to it all.
We break into groups. Ella Mae and Royal claim the log gathering for the fire. Nora chooses to put together a snack plate, promising to bring out some drinks as well. Cypress volunteers to go with her.
“Great, I’m happy for you to help me,” she says to my brother, who returns a smile to her.
“I’ll help too,” Reign says.
My brother instantly deflates a little. Was he hoping to be alone with Nora? Honestly, I have no clue what’s going on with him today. He’s been acting really weird.
As everyone walks their separate ways, I look at Saint. “So are you going to help me bring out the cornhole stuff?”
He gives me a sly look. “I don’t know.” He pretends to think about it like it’s a major decision.
“Well, I guess I may or may not see you in the barn then,” I quip as I start walking. As soon as I’m a foot away, I hear him coming after me.
I take off at a run and giggle as he chases me into the dark of the barn.
He follows me through the door and shuts it behind him. I grab a wood plank I spot and prop it against the door.
“What’s that for?” he asks.
“To alert us if anyone enters.”
Then I stalk toward him, raise myself on tiptoes, and kiss him like I’ve wanted to do for hours now.
I press as close to him as I physically can, but it doesn’t feel like close enough, like I could never get close enough.
What has he done to me? I’m not this person.
I don’t want this kind of closeness to other people.
I’m normally cold and aloof, but despite my temptation to be that way with him, he melts my frozen exterior.
Our mouths move in tandem as our tongues caress each other, slipping slickly around. My face and body heat as we kiss, my hands on Saint’s jaw, one of his big hands fisted in my hair.
He pulls back, breathing hard, chest expanding and contracting rapidly.
“Wint—” The trap I set at the door cuts off whatever he was going to say.
“What the?” someone says from the door as we jump back and each grab one of the cornhole boards.
From the scraping noise filling the air, the board is moved out of the way, and then Royal walks through the door.
He looks between each of us, and we do our best to act like nothing unusual is happening. Before he can say anything to us, I blurt out, “Oh, good. Help us out. Carry these beanbags,” I instruct as I point to the pile of bags we will need.
Royal squints in our direction but ultimately keeps his mouth shut and obliges.
We’re striding from the barn into the fading light, carrying out supplies.
“You two sure were taking your sweet time. Ella Mae and I got the fire going like ten minutes ago.”
“We couldn’t find the boards at first. They ended up being buried under stuff in the storage room. We were just carrying them out when you showed up. I guess you had perfect timing,” Saint answers smoothly.
I’m relieved he lied to Royal but still a bit surprised. That he’s keeping things a secret from his best friend is a big deal. It makes me wonder if he hasn’t told him because, despite us never discussing it, this is a temporary thing, or if there’s more to it.
If I let myself, I could end up in a mental spiral, worrying that he’s keeping it a secret because I think it’s more than he thinks it is. Or worse. But I’ve kept it a secret from my friends too, and it’s for the best anyway.
My friends are standing around the fire and flag us over toward them.
“Put yours right here, Win.” Reign points to a spot. Thankfully, it’s close. The boards aren’t super heavy, but the shape of them is awkward to carry.
“What about this one?” Saint asks.
My brother pulls out a measuring tape, and Reign holds it at the base of my board while Cypress pulls it out, measuring out the distance for Saint’s board to be placed.
When he reaches the twenty-seven-foot distance, he tells Saint where to place it.
Some people might not actually measure, but Cypress has always been a stickler for the rules.
Royal raises the beanbags he’s been carrying. He’s separated the eight bags by color. “Who’s going to be on the red team and who will be on the green team?”
Since we have an uneven number of players, we knew that someone would end up needing to sit out.
“You guys play without me. I’m just going to sit by the fire.” Reign volunteers.
That leaves six of us in the game. Ultimately, I’m paired with Saint for the red team, my brother is paired with Nora for the green team, and Royal and Ella Mae said they’ll play against the winner.
The night passes in a blur of tossed beanbags, taunting, laughing, and having the best time.
After several games of cornhole, we dig up some supplies and make s’mores around the fire.
Almost all my favorite people are here, and words cannot express how thankful I am for this day.
We left our problems behind long enough to enjoy ourselves and make memories we’ll hold onto for years to come, maybe even forever.
But that’s the thing about problems. They don’t stay gone unless you deal with them.