Chapter 24
The weather is perfect that weekend, so I take Ozzie and Mica to Echo Park Lake to ride the swan paddleboats.
The sky is a pale blue, the clouds are gauzy, and the lake and surrounding park are filled with couples and families enjoying the day.
The small man-made lake gleams dark blue, and a breeze kicks up the mist off the giant fountain set into the middle of it all.
We’re in line, both of the kids eating paletas like they’ve never had sugar before—Ozzie’s strawberry one staining her mouth red already.
I’m slowly working on my mango one dipped in Tajín, enjoying the warm sun mixed with the cool breeze.
I always relish the days leading up to our endless summer, making the most of lightweight jackets and closed-toe shoes before I have to wear linen for months.
“I don’t want to wear a hat,” Ozzie complains in her little lavender bucket hat embroidered with a sloth.
She makes a move to take it off with a grubby, red-stained hand, but I grasp it just in time.
“Hey, hey, your mom will never let me near you again if you come back with a sunburn on your perfect little nose,” I say as I bop it for good measure.
She giggles. The routine for leaving Marcella’s house is insane.
Everyone slathers on sunscreen over every inch of their skin no matter what the activity, and no one leaves the house without grabbing a hat.
I don’t think kids today have had the sun touch their uncovered skin since birth.
Mica jumps from foot to foot. “Can I be the one to pedal?” The sugar’s hitting this one hard.
“You can definitely be one of them,” I say diplomatically. “It takes two to party.”
“Will Mama and Daddy be sad they couldn’t pedal?” Ozzie asks, dark brown eyes big and imploring.
“No, they will be quite happy for us.” Mama and Daddy are currently day-drinking their way through the central coast. Just then, a plop of Tajín lands on my white jeans somehow.
“Oh, crap.” When I bend over to wipe it off, a small dog comes bounding at me—salt-and-pepper fur with floppy black ears, lolling tongue, and trailing leash—and literally licks it off my leg. “What is even—!”
“Pickle!”
The dog looks behind itself with a naughty little wiggle. When I look up to see the dog’s owner, I almost fall over.
It’s Ellis. He’s running toward us, a pretty girl keeping up with him. His eyes are on the dog, and he doesn’t realize I’m there until he’s gotten ahold of the dog’s leash.
My insides churn at the sight of him. It’s like being dropped into a roller coaster seeing him this way.
He looks so good—the breeze ruffling that head of hair, his black sunglasses perched on the strong bridge of his nose.
When his head tilts toward me, all the angles of his face feel like a physical attack.
“Cass?” He’s shocked when he notices me.
I try and hide my utter devastation at his mere presence. “Is this your dog?”
“Yeah.” He reaches down and scoops the wriggly gray-and-white fluff in his arms. “Sorry, Pickle’s new. Still trying to train him.”
“He’s an escape artist,” the girl with Ellis says, her smile big and effervescent.
I look at her with a questioning smile and Ellis says, “Um, Cass, this is Avery. She’s actually training Pickle.
” Avery’s got that dog-person vibe—wearing cutoffs, a vintage sweatshirt, her dark hair in a low braid that manages to be messy and cute.
She’s beautiful in that freshly scrubbed way that you can be in your twenties.
And she’s got an ass that even I can’t stop looking at.
She’s scratching Pickle under the chin and looking at him with big heart-eyes. “Avery, this is Cass. Cassia.”
“Hi.” I look at the dog. “And hi to you, Pickle.” He wiggles his butt some more.
Ozzie and Mica are next to us in an instant, squealing over the dog. Ellis looks down at them, then at me. “Marcella’s kids—Ozzie and Mica,” I clarify. They ignore me as they are consumed by puppy love. Avery takes the dog from Ellis and crouches down so they can pet him.
“He’s very friendly,” Avery says to the kids, and they are enamored.
“Babysitting?” Ellis asks me.
I nod. “We’re starting our weekend of utter chaos with the swan boats.” I am very nervous suddenly. Has Daniel mentioned any interest in me to Ellis? Are there hard feelings? Of all the parks in the city…L.A. can be such a small town, sometimes.
“Good call,” he says. “Tire them out with manual labor.”
“Exactly,” I say with a smile. And then I notice Avery noticing us and I wonder if they’re dating. I’m sure that, at first glance, I just look like some woman he knows. But Ellis…the way he looks at me would make anyone look twice.
“Who are you?” Ozzie is suddenly between us, staring up at Ellis.
“Hey, I’m Ellis,” he says, as if he’s talking to a random adult at a party. “Do you like dogs?”
“I LOVE dogs!” she cries out. “But my dad is ’lergic.”
He frowns. “ ’Lergies suck.”
“They suck!” she relishes that word. He laughs, so incredibly charmed. Watching this interaction makes me feel turned inside-out. “Well, we have to get on the boat,” I say loudly. “Come on, guys. Say bye to Pickle.”
There are protests but I bulldoze over them, and we say goodbye. After tossing our popsicle sticks, we board our boat, and I try my damnedest not to look at Ellis, to keep my eyes on the kids and not have my gaze magnetically drawn to where he might be.
The boats are spacious, like little golf carts on water, and I sit next to Ozzie and pedal with her.
I handle the steering so that we don’t accidentally bump into other boats, or the fountain.
The kids are loving it, and I bask in their pleasure.
I’ve been a part of these kids’ lives since they were in utero, and I relish being their source of fun.
While we float along the perimeter of the lake, I spot Ellis.
He and Avery are standing far apart, clapping and urging Pickle to run between them.
I guess it could be dog training, but they also look like a couple playing with their dog in the park.
I shouldn’t be bothered by it—I have zero right to be bothered by it. But I am.
“Can I pedal now?” Mica asks, already standing and shoving his head between us.
“Sure, bud,” I say. “Let’s pull over to the side to switch it up. You ready, Oz?”
She nods. “Okaayyy,” she drags out.
I squeeze her shoulder. “Thank you, big generous girl.”
We get the boat over to an uncrowded spot near the docking area and I risk one more glance at Ellis. He and Avery are standing close, the dog between them. Their heads are almost touching. It’s intimate. Good. Good, she seems incredibly lovely and that’s exactly what he deserves.
Then I hear a splash and my head whips back to the kids just in time to see Mica’s head dip under the water.
“Mica!” I yell. Ozzie starts screaming and I say, “Oz, do not move!” and jump into the water. The water isn’t deep—maybe five feet, but Mica cannot swim. I know this because I’ve heard Marcella complaining about this over the years, and how stressful going to the beach is because of it.
The water is ice cold and probably full of unspeakable things, but I do not think about it as I reach him quickly, and he hasn’t drifted far. But he’s panicking, flailing his limbs, and he pulls on me like a deadweight.
“Mica, please calm down. I’m here, you’re fine,” I say as I try and get ahold of him.
“I can’t swim, I can’t swim!” he screams in my face, his hands grabbing at my hair.
“Babe, I know. It’s okay, I’ve got you,” I say calmly, trying desperately to keep us both above water.
Because I’m trying so hard to get a grasp on him, I don’t realize how close we’ve gotten to the boat and one of his flailing arms hits the side.
Hard. He screams out in agony, and this is when I start to panic.
Ozzie is now screaming her brother’s name and sobbing and I am trying to get him on the boat when I see blood streaming from his arm. Oh, fuck.
And then a pair of arms is hoisting Mica up onto the boat.
When I turn to see who it is, it’s Ellis, of course, beside me in the water.
Then, without saying a single thing, he puts his hands on my hips and pushes me up, too.
I grab hold of the railing and get up onto the boat.
I scramble over to Mica immediately, both of us soaked from head to toe.
“Let me see,” I say, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. He’s wailing and clutching his arm close to him. He shakes his head and just keeps wailing, pushing his body farther into the boat so I can’t reach him. “Mica, sweetie, let’s look.”
I notice then that the boat is moving—Ellis has gotten on and is steering us back to the dock, where a crowd has formed. He’s steering with one hand, his other arm looped around a crying Ozzie, keeping her tucked into him. His clothes are soaking wet.
After an inspection of Mica’s entire body, I see nothing else injured on him but the long scratch on his arm.
It’s still bleeding and I take my sweatshirt off and wrap it around his arm before I carry him off the boat, and Ellis helps Ozzie off.
One of the workers, a frazzled teenage girl, asks me, “Is everyone okay? Should I call an ambulance?”
I shake my head. “I think we can drive ourselves to the hospital. Thank you.”
Ellis is now carrying Ozzie, who is clutching onto him for dear life. “Hey, let me take you guys,” he says.
“Okay, thank you.” My voice is shaky, and I know I shouldn’t drive. I am so horrified by everything that I can’t even be embarrassed that Ellis has managed to save me—yet again.