Chapter 65
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
“Hey, dude,” Mav calls from the basement door. “Mind if I join?”
“Get down here.” I mute the TV.
“Where’s the rest of the crew?”
“Ice skating, mostly.”
“You refuse to ice skate?” He jumps over the back of the sectional and stretches out. “What a waste of potential.”
I chuckle. “I’m trying to … rest. March Madness fits the bill.”
Something pangs in my gut. Go up on the mountain and pray.
“Rest?” He watches me rather than the game.
“Feels lame to bail on the group, but I think this is what I need right now.”
Not what I said.
I roll my shoulders.
“Cool. Ooh, did Dad give you these snacks?”
“Sure did.”
He reaches for a box of Cap’n Crunch. “Mom’s always trying to get us to eat broccoli and hummus or something. She makes Dad hide his contraband stash so maybe we’ll forget about it. Who’s on?” He points with his chin.
I catch him up on the game.
“So, you like Mayberry?”
“It’s the coolest, looniest place ever. If you can go, you should.”
“Loony, huh?”
“Pranks, traditions, floor pride to a hilarious extent. Lots of really quality people. I talk to my cousin and high school buddies about their time at college, and I just have no doubt I’m in the right spot.”
“Sounds prime.”
“High schoolers come shadow a bunch. You’re welcome on my couch anytime if you wanna check it out.”
“Thanks, bro. I’m there. Hey, question.” Sitting up and planting his feet, he stares me down like we just transitioned to a formal interrogation.
I outweigh this kid by at least eighty pounds. Can’t help but crack a smile. “Go for it.”
“Levi. Is he cool enough for Kit?”
I confirm. “Zero reservations. Kit’s got it made in the shade with him.” I should clarify. “And I don’t mean about the money. He takes amazing care of her.”
“And how does he feel about Jesus? Like, love, fan, what?”
It hits like a pass to the chest. Mav gets it.
Do I still?
“He’s obsessed,” I tell him. “Number one priority.”
My throat tightens, but I push past it.
Mav lets out a breath as he relaxes back into his confident recline. “You have a sister?”
“Yeah, she’s your year.”
“You been in this spot yet?”
“No, and it better be a decade down the road.” Luckily, Janie’s focused, has big plans. She hasn’t even been tempted to date in high school. And let’s just say I’ve made bothering my sister very unappealing to the guys back home.
He raises his brow. “How does she feel about that?”
I let it slide. “What would you have done if I told you Levi was a loser?”
“Good old-fashioned duel. Hamilton-style.” He drops a handful of cereal in his mouth and talks around it. “Why, need to change your answer? Not sure if I’m a good shot, but my rapping is pretty good.”
I huff a laugh. “You’re a good brother. Gotta protect your sister as best you can.”
He nods in another flash of earnestness.
“Kit getting all serious must be weird.”
“Super weird,” he says. “But also not. She’d love to get married young. I mean, so would I.”
A chip stabs on the way down. “Why’s that?”
“Our parents kinda trained us to lock it down when we find the right one, that a first love should never be wasted because of bad timing—”
I’m saved by a clutch three from the top of the key.
Mav smacks the sofa, grabs the remote to unmute the game. “What a beautiful shot! You care who wins this one?”
“No, I—Give him the ball!” I shout at the forward. “Another one!”
“Oh! My bracket’s a dumpster fire already,” he says with delight. “If they pull this off, I’m ruined.”
A stampede of steps rattles the ceiling, followed by shouts for Mav.
“Down here!” he hollers, eyes stuck on the screen.
Grey skids to a stop at the top of the stairs, out of breath. “Mav. The guys are here. Only a couple hours to lock this down.”
More guys fill in behind him, arms loaded with half-opened packages and faded sport coats.
Mav springs up like he heard The Avengers theme. “Roger, Broseph.” To me, “Destiny calls. Secret Service detail waits for no man.”
A prank? A smile slips out, but I hesitate. “Set up down here? I’ll help out.”
“Dude, it would be a pleasure. Nay, an honor.”
High schoolers flood the stairs. One clutches a scuffed briefcase that has never contained nuclear codes.
“Ayo!” he calls to them. “Basement’ll be HQ. This is Austin, Kit’s friend.” To me, “Suits, ties, aviators, and maximum educational disruption.”
I send a nod of approval as I stand, holding out fist bumps over the couch. “What’s up.”
“You a Flooder?” Mav asks. “Kit tells me they’re the Spartans of pranking.”
I grin. “Sure am. And they’re gonna love that title.”
“Well? Impart your wisdom, sir!”
More high schoolers trail in, adding to the chaos. One plugs in an iron and rests it on the Ping-Pong table. Another hangs suit coats on curtain rods and doorknobs.
I plop back on the couch, considering. “Earpieces? To really sell your role?”
Mav throws his arms out. “What?! Yes!”
“How are we gonna make that happen?” someone asks.
“I doubt there’s overnight shipping for that, and we’re already over budget,” another says.
All eyes shift to me.
I push back off the couch, nod toward the Ping-Pong table. “We’re gonna need an ironing board so your mom doesn’t kill us. For earpieces, we’ll need old earbuds or cords it’s okay to cut up. And a hot glue gun.”
“On it!” Grey calls.
“Y’all are good on ironing?” I point at the guys across the room.
“Cool. I need someone to coordinate try-ons. You can assign one to each of you so you’re not scrambling tomorrow.
If you’ll bring the cords and hot glue gun in here, we can watch the game while we work.
Just twist it in a coil and run a line of hot glue. Boom, comms.”
One high schooler shoves my shoulder and another whoops.
Grey chucks a tangled mess of cords across the room. “Heads up!”
I start separating it into piles. “Anyone without a job can start untangling.”
“Uh, wanna show me how this iron works?” a guy calls.
I clap Mav on the shoulder and head that way. He has no idea how much I needed this.
Thank you.
My steps slow.
Show me how to do this with you?
The house has been eerily quiet since Mav and company left. Helping them left me filled, not drained. I can’t figure out the mechanics, but for the first time I have hope. Maybe I still have something to offer the world. Maybe I can still participate in God’s plan, even in a small way.
“Samwise.” Levi interrupts my thoughts, sweeping down the basement stairs.
I pause the game. “Jeeves, buddy!”
He hands me a fork and a giant burrito in a takeout box. “We stopped at Costa Vida on the way back. I got you sweet pork. Eat that and try to tell me their Mexican food is no good.”
I wrap an arm around his shoulder and jostle him. “This looks amazing. Thank you. Now sit down and spill.”
He chuckles, reading my face. “Well, you were right. Archie’s wicked cool. So intimidating though.”
I didn’t get intimidating. Then again, I’m not dating his daughter.
“Most of his impression of me was already made by what you and Kit said. We had a good talk.” His leg bounces faster than normal.
“Did you ask him?”
“No. I need to make sure he knows I’m not unhinged first …”
I snort. I’ve been the unhinged one. Levi’s as solid as a boulder.
“Then take lessons and then ask for their blessing, in that order. The last part will have to wait.”
“Then what’d you talk about?”
“He asked about my routines, my relationship with Jesus. He did a lot of nodding. Prayed with me. I snuck in a lesson too—asked him about Chelsea and how things work for them.” He’s talking so fast, leg about to break the sound barrier.
“You’re never nervous, dude.”
“He’s the gatekeeper for marrying Kit. She’d never go through with it without his blessing …”
And Mav’s. And Chelsea’s. And Grey’s. I flash back to Sophie meeting my people. Like a deer in headlights, Mama grilling her on the worst possible subjects. Regret coils tight in my chest. I’m sorry I put you through that, Soph.
“There’s nothing more nerve-racking than that,” he finishes.
I try to smile, but it lands wrong on my face.
“Sorry,” he says. “Which game are you watching?”
It’s a great game—the underdog’s mounting a comeback for a major upset—but that’s not what he needs right now. I silence my phone so no one can text me spoilers.
“What’d you learn in your secret lesson?”
He settles into the couch. “Basically, everything goes better because they actually like each other. He called it ‘the like on top of the love.’ They like each other, so they hang out a lot, and that makes them like each other more.”
“Oddly revolutionary.”
My parents are fully committed, and I’m grateful for that.
But I don’t think “like” is the right word between them.
It’s wild to imagine that sticking around for decades.
They’re more … accustomed? Tolerant? Partners, not gushy.
But even “partners” feels off. They don’t lean on each other—just handle their own parts.
Stay in their lanes. Dad takes care of his side.
Mama expects him to. It’s not unkind, just practical.
But it’s not the same as having someone with you, not just beside you.
Someone who carries the weight too. Who wants to. Your best friend. Someone like—
My jaw clenches. Can’t go there.
“And if they find they aren’t liking each other or hanging out a lot,” Levi continues, “then that’s an emergency to problem-solve, not just a fact of life. His perspective is so different.”
“How’s the lesson thing gonna go moving forward? Seems tricky to get real advice from someone you’re still trying to impress.”
“Tell me about it. But they’re the ones with the marriage I want. It has to be Archie.”
“I get that. They’re old and still all over each other.”
Yesterday I spotted Archie tugging Chelsea into his office. She’s a mom, and she straight up giggled.
A wave of nausea pummels me. It’s them. It’s her. Maybe I just need real food. I pop the lid and start shoveling.
He chuckles. “Yes, exactly. So I’ll just have to be painfully real with him. God’s sense of humor.”
Yeah.
Like how I avoided Sophie with near-spy skills for a month and now you’ve got me stuck in a house with her and accidentally talking about her at every turn?
My prayer trails off, and I look to the ceiling. Is that kind of talk still allowed?
To Levi, “What’s your timeline like? When do you think you’d pop the question to Kit?”
But now I can’t swallow. Or breathe. This topic is going to demolish me, but I signed up for this week of torture for him.
He squints, reading my mind.
“Timeline,” I press.
“You know I’m there already. But I haven’t brought it up with her. I’m still trying not to freak her out.”
“But she looooves you,” I taunt.
He jerks up. “You heard?”
“Yeah. Sorry for eavesdropping. She just blurted it out when I was still close.”
His head shakes slowly. “Can you believe that?”
I open my mouth, but everything I’ve locked behind a wall is about to burst out.
Dizzy, I snap the lid shut over my burrito. “I’m amped for y’all,” I get out. “Mav said she’d be down to get married young. They see it like a good thing around here.”
“You’ve been playing wingman again?” He reaches to whack my arm. “Thanks for the intel, buddy.”
“But you’ve been together like two minutes. You’re not afraid you’re gonna go the way of me and Sophie?”
His eyes turn piercing. “When you know, you know.”
My stomach tightens harder. I really think I might hurl. The Cheetos aren’t helping.
“I wonder if not kissing makes you in more of a hurry or less,” I wonder aloud.
Should not have vocalized that thought. Breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth.
“I’d guess less. Not sure this is the best subject right now.”
I’m doing all I can not to open the kissing album that’s waiting in my brain. Pictures are spilling out. Push it away. Don’t. Open. It.
Sophie, blissed out against the brick of the math building. Her lazy smile, upside down on my couch. Velvety latte eyes as she wove fingers through my hair.
“Game time.” He grabs for the remote.
I hold it out of reach. “So Kit’s been hyped to show you all her home stuff?” I avoid the lovestruck look sure to be on his face.
“Yes.”
“Has it been better here than when you went to my house the first time?”
“Yes.”
He’s withholding for my sake. I finally turn to him, but only so I can glare. I don’t want his pity. “Jeeves.”
“Samwise.”
“I’m fine.” Kind of. My gut is squeezing miserably, and my throat is tight.
He throws a pillow at me and snatches the remote away as I reflexively catch it.
Well played.