2. Ro
Each step up to bed dragged on as if I were marching up Everest. It was as if all the years of heartache and regret since Brody left town were strapped to my back, and I was running out of oxygen.
How had the evening gone so awry? All I wanted to do was snack on some eggs before showering and hitting the sack. But then, the one man who could turn me inside out sauntered up in the dark and whispered, “Hello, Ro.”
Brody had been a permanent presence in my house for as long as I could remember. Ever since the third grade, he and Coop were inseparable. As the youngest in the family, I’d hero-worshiped him just as much as I did my brother. If not more, because Brody shined the brightest. He took all the dares, pulled the best pranks, and laughed the hardest. Even though he was only four years older than me, he probably viewed me as nothing more than an irritation, always trailing him and my brother around town. But when he’d grin at me, call me “small fry,” and gently pull my braids, I’d adore him all the more for it.
The boys in town used to call him “The Chosen One.” “The Golden Boy of Tuft Swallow.” And I believed it too, trekking out to Robin Springs with my brothers to watch his hockey games. As he carved up the county’s only ice rink, he was a god in my eyes.
I reached the top of the stairs, then turned into the landing, stopping to run my fingers over one crispy leaf on Mom’s favorite peace lily. It stood on the side table, constantly reminding me she wasn’t around anymore. I didn’t inherit her green thumb, but I”d kept the plant alive in the seven years since she passed away. Just. I’d given it some water this morning, but it struck me as poetic. Maybe I was the parched leaf, and Brody’s arrival in town would bring me back to life. Or drown me.
I sucked on my lips and dismissed the notion. Why did Brody always turn my thoughts all melodramatic? He didn’t know the hours I’d spent mooning over him. The times I’d replayed our old conversations in my head. And besides, I was doing just fine without him, wasn’t I? I huffed a bitter laugh. More like I was trying to convince myself. Trying to trick myself into believing I hadn’t walked around town for the last five years with a Brody-shaped hole in my heart.
When I was little, I’d seen him as another brother. Like Gran said—family. But as I got older, things became awkward between us. Like I just woke up one day, and his smile suddenly could make my stomach flip like a pancake. He was the only boy in town who wielded that superpower over me. Only he could make me feel all tingly and giggly inside.
And whenever Brody threw his drop-dead grin my way, I’d held the secret feeling close to my heart. Nobody knew, not even Eve.
“Ro? You okay, honey?” Gran’s soft voice interrupted my thoughts, her lavender scent tickling my nose. She’d come up the stairs without me even noticing. She, too, stared at the droopy leaf in my fingers. “It’ll bounce back with some TLC.” She understood. Since mum passed away, she knew how much the plant meant to me. She had given it a home along with me and my brothers.
I nodded, the corners of my mouth ticking up a little.
“Are you okay with Brody staying?” Her brow furrowed as she spoke. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
I honestly didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure how I felt. Trepidation? Regret? How could I explain to Gran what had happened all those years ago? About the one kiss we’d shared that turned my world upside down.
“I thought you two were good friends.”
I worried my bottom limp at the word “friends.”
“We were. We still are, I guess. It’s just I wasn’t expecting to see him.” And certainly not half naked in my kitchen. “He frightened the life out of me, but I’m sure I’ll recover.”
Gran placed her tiny hand on my arm, her touch featherlight on my skin. “I think he needs some friends right now. He’s having a tough time since his injury.”
My gut pulled. Brody broke his leg in a game months ago. When it happened, I’d only shown a friendly interest around my family. Then I’d scoured the news alone in my room, lapping up any information I could find. He’d spent time in physical rehab. I meant to send him a text. A get-well-soon note. Flowers. Something. But as time went on, that window closed, and I didn’t contact him. Now any concern or well wishes would be a little too late.
“He looks just fine to me.” A simmering heat hit my cheeks. Brody looked better than fine. His legs looked as solid as the oaks standing in the town square. As rock hard as the statue of Jericho Tuft that enjoyed their shade. If that was what an injured leg looked like, then…
“Rowena!” The furrow at Gran’s brow deepened. “Are you even listening to me?”
Damn, I needed to keep my thoughts on track and above the waistband. “Sorry. I’m just concerned, I guess.” The lie slipped out far too easily for my liking. What was happening to me? In the space of half an hour, I’d almost committed assault with a spatula, had impure thoughts about the legs of the man I’d crushed on for years and lied to the woman I loved most in the world.
Gran cleared her throat. “I’m just saying that looks can deceive. I want you to make sure Brody feels welcome.”
I took a breath, letting it out in a slow blow of air. “Okay, Gran. I promise I’ll be nice.”
“Thank you, darling.” She leaned in to kiss my cheek, and I gave her a half-hearted smile. I couldn’t muster the enthusiasm for anything more. Maybe I was still in shock from my late-night kitchen jump-scare.
“Good night, Gran,” I said, turning toward my bedroom. I slept down the hall from the rest of the family. When all my brothers lived at home, I’d have gone mad without my little slice of peace tucked away at the back of the house.
I pushed open the door and settled on my bed, picking up the crochet project I was working on. The pattern had bothered me for days now. Who knew a set of little owls could be so troublesome? Four orders for this item were waiting in my Etsy store. The pressure was on. I picked at the stitches, examining their structure. Usually, crocheting was my passion, my distraction. But tonight, my brain swam.
Brody Flockhart, “Flock” to his adoring fans, was back in town and staying in my house for the foreseeable future.
I flung myself back on the mattress, arms above my head, the little plastic stars on the ceiling glowing a tepid green in the low lighting. They matched the age of the feelings I’d buried deep within my heart. Ever since hockey took Brody away from Tuft Swallow. Away from me.
Brody always planned to leave. To reach for his dreams. For as long as I could remember, his whole life revolved around hockey. It still did, but something about Brody had changed. He was as tall and broad as I remembered, but his shoulders and chest were bigger and leaner. Any puppy fat melted away to be replaced with hard, chiseled muscle.
If he’d looked the same five years ago, I would never have had the guts to kiss him like I did. Like a fine wine, he’d matured nicely and how I wished I could sample a taste of him now. In the interests of staying Brody-sober, though, I’d keep our contact to a minimum.
My phone pinged in my pocket. I sat up, pulling it out. An irrational part of me entertained the fantasy that it could be him, but it turned out to be Eve, asking if I got home before my slushie melted. I looked down at the sticky stain on my shirt, and butterflies took flight in my tummy.
I tapped out a quick response.
Ro: I have news.
Maybe telling Eve about Brody being in town wasn’t the best idea, but I couldn’t keep the fizzing in my chest to myself. Besides, she was Flock’s biggest super-fan. She’d want to know.
I stood, but as the old springs of the bed creaked under me, I froze, shoulders lifting. Could Brody hear that? The den was right below my room. A flush rose in my chest. If he could hear every sound I made, I’d have to keep creaking to a minimum. Particularly any bed creaking. I didn’t want him to think I was up to anything naughty.
The buzz of Eve’s reply jolted me back to the here and now.
Eve: What news? Don’t tell me you’ve found some of your boss’s old movies online? Was Bessie’s hair even bigger than it is now? Does Bart have a giant [eggplant emoji]?
Despite my dour mood, a giggle escaped my lips. My bosses, the Flubbergeists, were often the subject of gossip around town. The rumor mill said they were eighties porn stars. Eve and I frequently made up crazy stories about their misspent youths and the naughty films they’d possibly starred in.
Ro: Ew! Eve!
Eve: What then?
I tapped out a quick reply and took a breath, letting it out through pursed lips. My thumb hovered over the send button. Was I ready for the third degree from my best friend? She’d be very thorough, and I wasn’t sure I’d have all the answers.
I crossed to the bathroom door, text unsent and phone still in my hand. The latch gave a satisfying click as it opened. With three older brothers in the house growing up, Gran gave me the only room with an en-suite. I’d never waited in line for the shower.
I turned on the light, propped my phone on the counter, and stripped off my sticky top. The lurid pink stain on its front offended my eyes, and a strong smell of raspberry syrup hung in the air. Unhooking my bra, I threw it into the laundry hamper with my shirt. I narrowed my eyes and examined myself in the mirror, twisting and turning to study my body. If Brody had changed. Turned into a proper man. What about me? Had I suddenly become all womanly?
Eve would know. She’d be honest. Tell me whether I’d blossomed into a small-town version of Taylor Swift or if I remained the awkward girl next door. I picked up my phone and pressed send.
Ro: Brody Flockhart is back in town. Staying at my house.
My phone buzzed against the tiles, and with my breath in my throat, I read Eve’s predictably rapid reply.
Eve: What the hell? Are you serious? Be still my beating heart!
Then, almost immediately:
Eve: How does he look?
My chuckle bounced off the walls as I put the phone back down. I’d wait to reply. I was still busy examining my curves, or lack thereof. Besides, Eve wasn’t going anywhere. I almost expected to hear her throwing stones at my window, demanding information.
I pulled my shorts off, kicked them in the corner, and studied myself again. I looked the same. Only my hair was longer. Maybe my breasts were a little bigger, but if I was Brody, and I was seeing me for the first time in years, there was nothing new and impressive. He was probably used to the cream of the crop. He’d have the best-looking girls with banging bodies lining up to date him.
I ignored the buzz of my phone. Instead, I placed my palms on either side of the sink, pulling close to the mirror to examine my face. To Brody, I must still look like the na?ve eighteen-year-old who practically threw herself at him the night of her senior prom.
The same na?ve eighteen-year-old stood dressed and ready to head out the door with Tommy Dovehill. The same girl Brody found on the porch, waiting for Tommy to arrive. Whose hand he’d taken, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. The girl he asked to be careful. Not to drink too much or get too crazy. And the one he’d raked his eyes over with a look of hunger that drew her in and sealed her fate.
Buzz.
With a sigh, I swallowed away a bitter taste. At that moment, all those years ago in the dark, I swore Brody had wanted to say something. Do something more. So I’d been captain of my own destiny and I’d gone on tiptoes and pressed my lips to his.
Buzz.
And he’d kissed me back. Melted my insides. Gave me sparks that fizzed on my skin, swirled in my brain, and stole my burgeoning heart. No other kiss ever lived up to Brody’s. It would be impossible.
I shook my head and picked up my phone to check Eve’s messages.
Eve: Details, please.
Eve: Please.
Eve: Rowena!
I let out a breath and tapped out a response. Eve was still crazy about Brody. Of course, she was. She hadn’t been the one to make the biggest fool of herself in front of him.
Ro: Sorry. Just jumping in the shower. Will fill you in tomorrow. Breakfast? Usual time?
Three balls bounced in the text box before Eve’s reply arrived.
Eve: Okay–but I want it noted you’re sending me to bed completely dissatisfied. I can’t find anything online about Brody being here. Only some pictures of him out with a model. They could be old, though. Will show you in the morning.
I’d rather she didn’t, but I sent her a thumbs up and turned on the faucet, running my toothbrush under its torrent of water. As the water gurgled in the drain, my thoughts raced back to Brody and my prom night humiliation.
About ten seconds into our kiss, he tensed, let go of me, and pulled away. The next moment, Coop stepped onto the deck with Tommy dressed in his tux. I never even heard him arrive.
I’d posed for the obligatory photos, cheeks ablaze and my body a squirming mess of need. I waited for Brody to catch my eye. To say something. Ask me not to go to the dance. To stay with him. Instead, he only stared at his feet.
When I stepped inside that limo, it was the last time I saw him in the flesh.
I dropped a note in his mailbox the next day. The prospect of Brody leaving to start college that week left me in a chokehold. I couldn’t let him go thinking I was a desperate teenager. So, I apologized for putting him in an awkward situation. I wished him well for his scholarship and spent the next few days licking my wounds in my room, hoping for a message or a call from him that never came.
I opened my mouth and dragged my toothbrush over my teeth, almost punishing myself with the ferocity of my strokes. A nagging feeling played in my chest. If you’d have asked me yesterday if I was over Brody Flockhart, I’d have said absolutely. But tonight, downstairs in the kitchen, when his breath hit my neck, a familiar tickle of energy played in my stomach.
I tried to get over him. I was one of Tuft Swallow’s most eligible spinsters, after all. But even after five long years, I couldn’t shake the memory of that night. And that kiss.
I finished my teeth and bent over to spit the bubbles down the drain. On the way back up, I caught my reflection. My eyes burned bright, almost feverish. Eve’s words about the photos with a model whirled around in my head. I wasn’t an idiot. Coop told me bout their exploits when he visited Brody in Denver. The nights out. The women.
Surely Brody hadn’t thought of me once in the last five years? At least not in the way I wanted. And now he was back, handsome as all hell, and sleeping ten feet below me.