Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
The following day, Willow was packed and ready to leave.
She’d been awake half the night, her phone kept lighting up with messages from her friends, excited that she was coming back.
She kept looking over the rehearsal schedule, feeling the butterflies in her stomach that she always felt at the start of a new season, all the promise to come.
But then at the same time, as she lay staring at her wallpaper and all her childhood possessions, she realized it was the first time that, while she was excited to get back to New York, she wasn’t excited to leave.
She came down the stairs with her bag, no one was around. She dumped it by the door and checked her watch, she had a couple of hours still.
She went and stood by the living-room window looking out. The sky was white behind the smokey-gray mountain, the red roof of the barn glistened from the rain, leaves lay golden on emerald-green grass. It was like gazing out at a postcard.
Suddenly, a ball smashed against the wall and she jumped. Then she heard the voices, the laughter and the accusations of foul play.
She went out onto the veranda to look and saw Logan, Noah and Brodie over by the old basketball hoop.
She thought about going to join them, but she was dressed for the city in tailored woolen trousers and a loose white shirt.
It was not basketball attire. But more than that, she hadn’t really talked to them properly since she’d shouted at them at the recital.
She felt self-conscious around them, like it was still somehow her against them.
She was about to step back inside, when Brodie saw her and shouted, “Hey, Willow, get over here.”
She hovered in indecision but then saw they had all stopped playing and were standing waiting.
Logan with the ball under his arm, wearing jeans and T-shirt, tired eyes smiling, Noah raking his sweaty hair back, shirtsleeves rolled right up, Brodie in his shorts and a bright turquoise sweater, hands wide, like, what was she waiting for.
She stepped off the veranda, still with some awkward hesitation, and walked toward them, shielding her eyes from the sun peeking out from behind the blanket of cloud.
“Wanna play?” Brodie asked, head tilted, half-smile on his face as he looked at her.
She narrowed her eyes. “Not if you’re just going to taunt me with the ball like usual.”
Brodie had to hold in a smile. “Me?” he asked incredulous. “I wouldn’t do that. Would you, Noah?”
Noah shook his head, face deadpan-serious. “Definitely not.”
Brodie glanced behind him. “Logan?”
“Never.”
Willow rolled her eyes.
Logan’s face broke into a smile, lines around his eyes like he hadn’t slept at all—he’d clearly come straight from the hospital that morning. He took a step forward and said, “We’re sorry, Willow.”
Noah nodded in agreement.
Then Brodie fell dramatically to his knees, hands clasped together and begged, “Please forgive us.”
Willow tipped her head back and groaned. “You’re so annoying!”
Brodie laughed, jumping back up to standing and swiping the dust off his knees. “So do you forgive us?”
He was smiling when he said it, but she could feel the underlying seriousness, all three of them looking at her with that same sense of hesitancy that she had felt a minute ago watching them.
She tried to think back to the years that they had been gone, but she could barely picture it now.
Other images had taken precedence; the photo of tiny baby Leo, the idea of Noah, Brodie and Dylan riding together to the Silver H, Logan holding Bella’s hand at the Hawkins ranch, Willow and her dad reflected back in the wall of studio mirrors.
Everything else seemed settled now into history.
It was hard to remember what she might forgive them for, but she appreciated them saying it anyway. “Of course I do!”
Brodie grinned wide. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad.”
Noah nodded his head, clearly relieved to have the matter dealt with.
Logan winked at her, and she found herself smiling bashfully down at the ground.
“Okay, two against two.” Brodie turned to Logan. “You and Noah versus me and Willow.”
Brodie never picked her.
“Yeah?” he glanced to check she’d play.
Willow tried not to smile but couldn’t help it. “If I have to.”
Logan chucked her the ball. “You have to.”
Later that afternoon, Willow walked into her first rehearsal.
Back in her leotard, tights, favorite shorts, and a wraparound top, she felt almost suited up for battle, her fingers tingling with nerves.
Then she walked into the room and was met with excited faces, tight hugs and buzzing chatter.
They were adult versions of Zoey and her friends.
All of them in variations of the same clothes, their hair pulled tightly back.
Willow had kept her curls, but she wasn’t sure for how long because when the artistic director saw her, he gestured to her hair and said, “This is an interesting development.”
When the rehearsal started, all the chatter died down and the work began.
Willow took her place. She was worried about her leg, she missed her family, she kept thinking fondly back to playing ball with her brothers, she missed Dylan with almost an ache—that hug, the feeling of his hand pressed against her back, holding her close.
But then the music started and there was no time to think about anything other than what she was doing right that moment.
She lifted her chin, she smiled wide, and she was back in the zone. Back where she belonged.