38. Ellison
The knock on my door is expected but still makes my heart hammer in my chest, my body already wrung out from the phone call with my mother. Turning the knob, I open it, the woman’s expression one that most likely mirrors my own.
Arden James.
My sister.
“I brought cake,” she says, holding up the box. “I didn’t know if it was too early for wine, and I was too nervous to drink any more coffee.”
“Is it chocolate?” I ask on a choked laugh.
“Is there any other kind?”
“No,” I agree as we stand there, both nervous as excitement pings tentatively between us. “Is it weird that I missed you?”
“Only if it’s weird that I missed you too.”
Placing the box on the counter, I wrap my arms around the woman with the eyes like mine who I’ve always longed for but never knew why. Grandad had talked about a piece of him dying with Nan, but my heart had never been whole because I’d been waiting for her.
Had she always missed me? Had she felt the ache of loneliness that I’d worn like a second skin my whole life?
“I love you,” she whispers as her tears land on my shoulder. “I loved you even when I didn’t know you existed.”
“I love you too,” I say, the words coming on a sob as I hold her tighter, completely unafraid of this moment and what it means. “And I know, because I felt it too.”
Pulling back, she laughs as she pushes her glasses up into her hair, the lenses fogged up as she swipes at her eyes.
“I think it’s time for cake,” I say, taking her hand and leading her to the breakfast bar. Grabbing two forks, I hand her one as she opens the cardboard lid, stamped with The Poppy Seed, the bakery in Clementine Creek.
We’re quiet as we take bites of the decadent layer cake, the entire scene almost comical as if I am looking in on it rather than experiencing it.
“Evan didn’t know,” Arden says finally, a bite of cake suspended on her fork. “I asked my mom a lot over the years about him, but I never got far. She’d been on her own and took the money from Sherri Ann to support me.” Arden’s smile is sad. “She wasn’t proud of needing it.”
“He loved her.”
“I know.”
“I think he still does,” I confess and she nods.
“I think he does too.”
“Are you staying here? In Blackstone Falls?” She doesn’t answer right away, her fork slicing through the layers of chocolate.
“I’m…I’m not sure. I guess it depends.”
“On what?”
“On you, a little on Evan, and a little on my mom.”
“I don’t want you to leave. Like at all. And I mean, you have a job here already—seems silly to just up and go already.”
She laughs and tips her head from side to side. “It’s been a lot getting here. The buildup and then the blowup,” she adds wryly before sobering. “I’m sorry about the way you found out—that was never my intention.”
“Things with our father are complicated. They always have been, and it’s going to take a long time before I can forgive him. That’s on him not you.”
“I still hate the way it happened though.”
“I’m not sure it could have happened any other way honestly.” Grabbing two glasses, I fill them with milk, handing one to Arden before setting mine on the counter. “Is…is your mom mad at me?”
“Definitely not,” she says without hesitation. “She’d actually like to meet you when or if you’re ready.”
“Really?” A feeling of hope blooms in my chest.
“Really. She’s amazing and she’ll love you.” She doesn’t say just like I do but it hangs between us all the same.
“Well, I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
“And things with your boyfriend, are they okay?”
“They will be—a lot of that is on me though. I mean on Dad too. But Montana and I will be okay; I’m gonna make sure of it.”
Tilting her head to the side, she stares at me. “How are you going to do that?”
“I’m pulling out all the stops.” I grin. “Wanna help?”
Worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, she nods. “Yeah, I think I do.”
* * *
”I brought wine!”Bea says as she wraps me in a one-arm hug as she crosses the threshold into the house. “This requires wine, right?”
“So much wine,” I confirm as she pulls back, Archer hovering in the entryway. “If I hug you, does that make it worse,” I start while motioning to his shuffling feet and the blush creeping up his neck, “or is it like ripping off the Band-Aid because I’ve known you almost my entire life?”
“I have no idea,” he says, exasperated even though he can’t fight his smile.
I squeal and launch myself at him hard enough for him to stumble back and grunt from the impact. Bea’s laughter behind us has the exact effect I was going for as Archer shakes his head and laughs too.
“See? Isn’t this easier?”
“What? Being tackled by a kindergarten teacher moonlighting as a linebacker?”
I snort as I accept a glass of wine from Bea and shake my head. “We’re practically family with you bein’ Montana’s cousin and all.”
Archer rolls his eyes but it’s more fond than annoyed. “It’s hard to say no to that guy.”
“Hard to say no to who?” Arden asks as she walks in the room, her hair pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head.
“No way,” Bea gasps as there’s a knock at the door, and Archer’s hand reaches for the knob without looking as his gaze ping-pongs between us. “I knew you looked familiar. I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner!”
“Hey everyone. Oh holy hell, there’s two of you!” Cal exclaims as he crosses the threshold, unceremoniously dumping the bags in his arms onto the floor before moving to stand in front of us. “Well, this is a plot twist if I ever saw one.” He nods and looks around. “Oh, I’m Cal; your host is terrible.”
Archer snickers and I shove Cal, making him laugh before properly introducing everyone in the room and explaining my plan.
“Do you think it will work?” Because I desperately want it to work. I need it to work.
“You’re the only one who makes him smile like that,” Archer says firmly as he holds my gaze. It’s unwavering as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest.
“He smiles a lot,” I try, but it’s weak and I hate that I need the reassurance—need him to say again that it’s me Montana needs.
“It’s been my experience…” Bea cocks her head to the side and he blushes as he looks at her. “What? It’s limited but I do have some.”
“Of course you do, baby,” she says teasingly before blowing him a kiss. He narrows his eyes and even though his face is scarlet, I can still feel the tension bouncing between them.
“What I mean is,” Archer says while returning his attention to me, “the guy is perpetually happy. There’s not a lot that derails the person he puts out into the world, and few people know the guy who’s under all that. He’s humble and quiet,”—he points at me—“but you’ve always known that version of him.”
He doesn’t say anything else and he doesn’t have to. I’ve taken those moments with my best friend for granted. I’d traded the possibility of something more for stability. I’d taken every smile and laugh and selfishly tucked it away.
Montana had taught me how to climb trees and throw a football. He’d doubled down when I told him Owen Sanders had been my first kiss in the hallway outside the gymnasium and I didn’t see what all the fuss was about.
He hadn’t taken too kindly to that. Montana had cursed and muttered under his breath the entire way home from school, dragging me deep into the cotton field and away from prying eyes.
And then my best friend had kissed me breathless.
He’d kissed me like I’d seen in the movies and he kissed me like he could have done it forever. He’d been smug afterward, like any other sixteen-year-old boy who’d left a girl panting from making out, but I wasn’t mad because he’d shown me exactly what the fuss was about.
But that kiss was the only thing I had to keep me warm at night—the only thing I had to make it through the day.
Archer looks around the room at the rolls of paper, bottles of paint, and brushes littering my living room and sighs. “And now him smilin’ at you means I’m doing arts and crafts.”
“Have I mentioned how handsome you are lately?” Bea says with a grin.
“Y’all are too cute,” Cal says, placing a hand over his heart, and I can’t help but giggle.
“Yeah, yeah,”—Archer waves me off—“just show me what we’re doin’ so I can pretend like I’m not getting arrested tonight.”
I gasp. “I am offended you’d even say such a thing.” He snorts and Bea looks on amused. I’m about to retort but decide against it and just shrug as I hold out my wineglass. “To the things we do for family.”
“To family,” Arden says, and my heart grows three sizes because I’ve finally created the family I’d always wanted. A sister I’d missed my whole life and friends who came just because I needed them—it was more than I could have ever imagined.
Bea clinks her glass enthusiastically against Arden’s and then mine as Archer takes a sip from his water bottle, Cal already refilling his glass after a single toast.
Scrolling through my phone, I find a playlist, and the first beats of “Make Me Want To” by Jimmie Allen fill the room as we all break off to our respective corners and get to work.
With any luck, this will be a story worth telling for years to come. But for now, I just have to make it to tomorrow.