43. The Hard Line
THE HARD LINE
JOEY
I’ll Be Good by Jaymes Young
“He’s landing at LAX at two.” Maggie waves her phone at me from across the kitchen, her grin stretching so wide it borders on manic. “Two o’clock, Joey. That’s in one hour. I need to shower, do my hair, find something to wear that says ‘I missed you but I’m also effortlessly casual’.”
“You own nothing effortlessly casual,” I say from my spot at the table, scrolling through my phone with my good hand. “Everything you own has rhinestones or ripped seams.”
“That’s called fashion.”
Dad sets down his coffee mug. “You gonna bring Felix to meet us?”
Maggie laughs, bright and dismissive. The laugh dies when she catches his expression. “Oh wait, you were serious?” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um, I think he’s gonna be busy—”
“Busy sucking face with Maggie,” I offer.
Dad winces. “Please. I don’t need that mental image.”
Mom presses her lips together, fighting a smile as she stirs at the stove.
“Maggie.” Dad’s voice firms. “Bring the boy over so I can meet him.”
“Dad.”
Mom crosses to him and rests her hand on his arm. His shoulders drop a fraction, some of the gruffness bleeding out of his posture.
“I’ll be nice,” he says. “I promise.”
Maggie stares at him, unconvinced. She rolls her eyes with enough force to strain a muscle.
“Fine. Ugh.” She glances down at her outfit, an oversized band tee and sleep shorts, and lets out a dramatic squeal.
“I have nothing to wear.” She stalks toward her room, muttering about impossible fathers and impossible timelines.
“Oh!” She spins in the hallway, one hand braced on the doorframe.
“I forgot to tell you, I heard from my agent this morning. I booked a job. Cinematic album trailers for a major label.” She practically vibrates.
“It’ll keep me in LA for a while, but the artist wants footage shot in London, so I’ll be there for a few weeks.
” She presses her hands to her chest. “London, Joey. I’m going to London. ”
“That’s amazing, Maggs.”
“I know.” She grins, and her expression softens. “But I’ll be here for the baby. Unless you want to schedule a C-section like the celebrities do, so I can fly in and be in the delivery room. Very chic. Very modern.”
“I’m not scheduling my birth around your work calendar.”
“We’ll see.” She spins around, pointing at me. “You’re coming with me to the airport, by the way.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
“Joey.”
“I’m tired, Maggs. Go pick up your boyfriend. I’ll meet him when you bring him over for Dad’s interrogation.”
She crosses her arms. “You’ve been in this house for three days. You barely eat. You stare at your phone like you’re waiting for it to explode.” Her voice drops. “I get it. I do. But hiding in here isn’t going to make it hurt less.”
I want to say no. I want to curl up under my covers and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. But Maggie watches me with that stubborn set to her jaw, and she won’t leave until I agree.
“Fine.” I push away from the table. “But I’m not changing out of leggings.”
“Deal.” She disappears into her room, calling over her shoulder, “Be ready in twenty!”
Mom catches my eye from across the kitchen. She gives me a small nod, warm and encouraging.
“Go,” she says. “It’ll be good for you.”
The drive to LAX takes forever in afternoon traffic.
Maggie chatters the whole way, about Felix, about the album he’s been recording, about how they’ve been FaceTiming every night and she thinks this might actually be it.
The real thing. I make the appropriate noises in the appropriate places, but my mind drifts.
We pull up to arrivals. Maggie checks her phone, bounces her knee, reapplies her lipstick three times.
“Relax,” I say. “He’s not going to care if your lipstick is perfect.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. He’s been on a plane for hours. He’s going to be exhausted and gross and thrilled to see you regardless of your lip color.”
Felix emerges through the automatic doors—tall, athletic build, dark hair curling at his temples and eyes so blue they’re visible from twenty feet away. Maggie is out of the car before I can blink, launching herself at him with a squeal that turns heads.
He catches her easily, one hand cradling her head as he kisses her. She wraps around him like she’s been waiting months for this exact moment, and he holds her like she’s the only person in the terminal.
I climb out and lean against the car, waiting.
The hollow space inside me throbs. I’m happy for her, I am, but watching them cling to each other sharpens every edge I’ve been trying to dull. That could have been me. That should have been me.
“Joey.” Felix untangles himself from Maggie and walks over. He’s got an easy smile and kind eyes, and he’s more handsome in person than on Maggie’s FaceTime calls. He pulls me into a one-armed hug, careful of my sling. “Good to finally meet you in person. So you’re the sane twin.”
A surprised laugh escapes me. Maggie jabs him in the ribs.
“Ow.” He grins, rubbing his side. “What? It’s a compliment.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you in person.” I smile genuinely, and Felix leans in to give me a warm hug. A hug I didn’t know I needed.
I slide into the backseat with Felix’s guitar case while they take the front. Maggie drives, one hand on the wheel and the other reaching for Felix’s. He lifts her fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, and I turn toward the window.
Jesse used to do the same thing. His hand would drift across the center console and find mine, the way Dad always reaches for Mom, like it’s not a choice, just gravity. My hand closes in my lap. The phantom weight of his fingers threaded through mine aches worse than my shoulder.
“We need to make a quick stop,” Maggie says, catching my eye in the rearview mirror.
I frown. “What kind of stop?”
“There’s this little coffee place near the beach. I’m stalling before I have to bring Felix home to meet Dad.” She shoots Felix a glance. “You ready for that?”
“Parents love me,” he says.
Maggie snorts. “How many parents have you met?”
A pause. His cheeks flush pink. “Um. None. But I’m likable.”
“Uh-huh.”
I roll my eyes but don’t argue. Watching Maggie squirm through Dad’s interrogation might actually be entertaining.
The coffee shop sits on a quiet street a few blocks from the water, its windows glowing amber in the fading light. A chalkboard sign outside announces OPEN MIC NIGHT in looping script.
“Seriously?” I stare at the sign. “You dragged me to an open mic night?”
“Felix wanted to check it out. See the local scene.” Maggie’s already climbing out of the car. “Stop being grumpy and come inside.”
I shoot Felix a glance as we climb out. He shrugs, but there’s a flicker in his expression.
I can hear a guitar through the door before we even go inside, but it’s the voice that stops me on the sidewalk.
I know that voice.
My feet won’t move. Every nerve in my body pulls toward the door and away from it at the same time.
Maggie catches my eye and gives a small nod. Her hand settles at the small of my back, guiding me inside.
The coffee shop is small and warm, and Jesse is sitting on the stage.
He’s in jeans and a worn Henley, sleeves pushed to his elbows. The sunflower on his forearm visible as he plays, and he plays like he’s the only person in the room. My chest aches with how much I’ve missed him.
Something inside me cracks wide open.
I sink into a chair near the back. Maggie drops into the seat beside me, and Felix stands behind us.
“Did you know about this?” I turn to Maggie, barely a whisper.
She hums, practically vibrating. “Dylan reached out to me. Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad.” I don’t know what to think.
Jesse looks up between chords, and our eyes lock across the room.
My vision blurs. Maggie reaches under the table and squeezes my hand.
The words wash over me, aching and raw.
I walked the hard line between shadow and skin,
Convinced I was poison you’d never let in.
But you held your ground where the darkness ran deep,
Loved me awake when I wanted to sleep.
Tears spill down my cheeks.
I have waited so long for this version of him.
You held the reins when I was pulling away,
Called me by name when I wanted to fade.
I gave you my worst and you didn’t let go,
You played in the fire and begged me to stay.
His voice falters on the last line, something unguarded slipping through. The coffee shop hushes, attention drawn without effort, like everyone senses they’ve stumbled into something they weren’t meant to miss.
Broken without the touch of your hands.
I’m not drowning, I’m learning to swim.
You drew the line and you pulled me across.
I was already found when I thought I was lost.
The lyrics leave nothing untouched inside me.
“He’s really talented,” Felix murmurs behind me.
“Yeah,” I say. “He really is.”
The song ends. The room holds still for a beat too long. A few people clap, polite, uncertain, unaware of what they’ve witnessed.
Jesse sets the guitar aside and stands. He hasn’t looked away from me once.
Maggie leans close to my ear. “Hey. You good?”
I nod, unable to speak.
She presses a kiss to my temple, and she and Felix slip away.
Jesse makes his way toward me, weaving through the tables. People shift their chairs to let him pass, and he doesn’t notice any of them. His eyes are locked on mine, and each step he takes closes a distance I’ve been telling myself I needed.
I stand, and my chair scrapes against the floor. My knees buckle and I catch myself on the table’s edge, tears still wet on my face.
He stops close enough that the air between us changes. He smells like midnight rain on warm pavement, and the familiarity of it cracks something open in my chest. This close, his eyes are so blue it aches, and looking into them fills a hollow I’d stopped admitting was there.
“I’m sorry.” His voice catches on the second word. “I’m so sorry, Joey."