Please Stay for Me (The Brotherhood Series)

by M. W. McKinley

  “Doing anything fun?” I ask.

  Those three little dots appear indicating she’s typing. “Just wondering how long Rob waited before talking to you.”

  It takes me a few seconds to decide how best to respond. I don’t want to make Rob seem untrustworthy. “He didn't say much, just thought I should check on you.”

  Avery replies right away. “Didn't say much?”

  I let out a frustrated sigh she can’t hear. I don’t want to talk to her about this through a screen. “Can we meet somewhere?”

  Again, those three little dots. “I'm not in the best mood.”

  “I still want to see you.” I don’t want to be around her only when she’s happy. I want to know all her moods. I want to know everything.

  Another two minutes of pure torture pass before the screen on my phone lights up again.

  “Ok, but I don't want to be around a lot of people.”

  I know the perfect place.

  "Is this the quilt?" Avery asks.

  "The very one. It always makes me feel better, so I thought it might do the same for you." I later learned that Mum had in fact sewn every square of fabric together herself to create my quilt of blues.

  We’re sitting in a nearby park that’s mostly vacant this time of day. Sometimes, I come here to study. I love the sounds—bird calls, squirrels chattering and rustling through bushes, a soft breeze whistling through the canopy of trees, and the distant sounds from the streets of Oxford. It’s music without a single instrument.

  Avery takes off her flip-flops and sits bare footed with her legs crossed while looking around. There are no visible signs she’s been crying. The tension in her face and body is obvious, though. I just don’t know the source.

  I stretch out lengthwise but put space between us. The last thing I want is to make this seem like a date. I want it to be whatever she needs at that moment, but I have to figure out what that is first.

  "So, obviously Rob talked to you," she says quietly while picking at grass and not looking at me.

  "He only said he knew something he couldn't tell me, and I guessed it was about you."

  She lets out a breath. "It would be easy to say he just happened to be at the right place at the right time."

  "I do not care about easy."

  Her gaze finally collides with mine. "I'm learning that about you." She hesitates, but then motions to me. "I'm learning all of these things about you, and it's making me . . . a little crazy honestly, but it's also making me care." She looks away. "I don't want to care."

  My smile slips. "Because I'll leave?"

  Avery glances at me but then looks away again. "Because I'll leave . . . in a few weeks."

  It’s a valid point, but it’s not the point.

  "Anyway, Rob showed up just as I read an email from my dad that really upset me. I think it's easier to unload on a stranger compared to,” she gestures towards me, “someone that's more."

  More. That's all I want is for there to be more—more of this, more with her, just more. "You don't owe me an explanation. Rob was worried, which made me worried."

  She shakes her head in disbelief. "Guys aren't normally this considerate, not in the States anyway."

  "I don't think it's any different here.” I pause. “For Rob and me, we’ve already spent half our lives surrounded by people who don’t care. We’ve had a daily reminder of what we don’t want to become."

  "I guess I hadn't thought about it that way." She stretches out next to me, mirroring my position and leaving only a few inches of space between us. We’re both quiet as I enjoy the feel of her next to me. Then, she says, "Even though I don't want to care, I do."

  I prop up on my elbow. "Can we just agree we care about each other?"

  Avery's unique gray eyes dance all over my face before holding my gaze. "We can agree we care about each other.” Her tone is still cautious, though.

  A thin silver chain slips out from underneath her shirt as she shifts, and I reach towards it. "May I?"

  Avery looks down to see where my hand is headed and nods. She shivers slightly as the back of my hand touches her bare arm. I file that reaction away for later. On the chain is a small silver circle. I lean in closer to make out the design inside the circle.

  "W, A, and E," Avery says. "Our initials. Dad, Mom, and me. Mom gave it to me a few months before she died of breast cancer." Her voice is thick with emotion.

  I take her hand in mine. “I’m sorry.”

  She doesn’t pull away. “I never know how to respond to that.”

  “Well, with me, you don’t have to.” I thread our fingers together.

  She looks down at our joined hands. “You never said what happened to your parents the other day on the train.”

  “That’s probably because I don’t know what happened to them. Other than they left and decided not to take me with them.”

  Avery squeezes my hand. “It’s their loss, Liam.”

  With our faces so close, I can see a few faint freckles on her cheeks. Her irises are dark gray around the edges and lighter gray closer to her pupils. I could stare at her eyes all day and still not work out all the different combinations of gray.

  I try to answer her question better. “I spent a lot of time wondering about them. Where were they? Did they think of me? Were they even alive? But then I realized if I had them, I wouldn’t have my parents. Maybe I would have never met Hugh or picked up a violin. If they could abandon their child, they obviously weren’t the best people.”

  She nods in agreement while staring off at something in the distance, and I wonder what photograph she’s framing in her mind.

  When she doesn’t say more, I ask, “Will you tell me about your dad’s email?”

  “I only read the first line. It said, ‘I made a mistake.’”

  My brows knit together. “What mistake does he think he made?”

  Avery sighs and squints against the sunlight that breaks through the trees. “After Mom died, he pretty much checked out. At twelve years old, I could handle a lot of things on my own. But when Meme came to visit, she said he wasn’t able to take care of me. So, she brought me back to stay with her. He never came back to get me.”

  “He never came to visit or anything?” I ask, surprised.

  “He called. It took me a while to answer, though.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  Her gaze sharpens. “And when I finally did answer, I acted like nothing was wrong. Happy, even. I was just so angry. I didn’t want him to think I missed him or wanted to live with him again.”

  “Even though you really did?”

  “Then, maybe.” Her tone is nonchalant, but her eyes are still intense. “Now, no.”

  "Are you going to read the rest of the email?" I can't imagine an unread email in my inbox from my biological father. I would have already read it a thousand times.

  Avery shakes her head. "I'm not sure if I will. There's just nothing he could say at this point."

  When I don’t respond right away, she asks, "You disagree?"

  "You have to do what feels right, Avery. Personally, I have to know everything. I hate feeling in the dark."

  She rolls on her back with a frustrated sigh. "I'm not sure what feels right."

  I squeeze her hand. "There's no rush. Just sit on it for a while."

  "I guess."

  I think about when Rob said he offered to distract her. I reluctantly remove my hand from hers just long enough to stand up and offer it again. "In the meantime, ice cream makes everything better."

  When I gather up my quilt, I briefly think about the time I counted how many squares were sewn together. Three hundred and twenty-five. I remember feeling overwhelmed that someone cared enough about me to sew three hundred and twenty-five squares of fabric together using every shade of my favourite colour. That’s how the moment with Avery felt as we lay together on that same quilt. The same moment when she opened up and gave us a chance for more.

  Chapter Ten


  Avery

  When Katherine makes an irritated sound for the second time, I look over to the stage where Eric, as usual, is surrounded by people vying for his attention. "Something bothering you?" I ask her.

  "What would be bothering me?"

  Her nonchalant expression is almost believable. "Just go talk to him. He's been looking over here." Eric's gaze lands on Katherine again as she turns towards me. His white hair is now brown.

  "Actions, Avery."

  "Technically, looking is an action," I point out.

  "Not to me. If he's interested, he can ignore all those people and walk over here."

  I shake my head as I go back to texting Trinity touristy pictures without guys in them just to annoy her. Our study-abroad group toured the British Museum last week, so I have a ton of ammo.

  I send her a picture of a bronze statue of an Egyptian cat.

  She immediately replies, “New Pet? Nice piercings.”

  The Gayer-Anderson Cat has a pierced nose and ear. I type, “PETA would have a heart attack now.”

  Then I send her a picture of Oxford Castle I toured earlier that day.

  The chair next to me scrapes against the floor as I hear Liam's voice. "Hey, you."

  I put my phone down to give him my full attention. "Finished setting up already?" After telling him about my dad the other day, things have changed between us. We’ve been texting and talking on the phone daily. We’re in this strange place—more than friends but less than lovers. I still don't know where it can go, though.

  "I am, but we have a few more minutes until showtime."

  My phone lights up on the table with a text from Trinity that reads, "LAME." I laugh and show Liam the text. "Trinity agrees with your sticky note reviews."

  He looks at the pictures I sent her and smiles. "May I reply?

  "Go for it."

  Liam keeps smiling as he types, and I take this opportunity to check him out. He’s wearing a very worn-in Beatles shirt with faded black jeans. His blonde hair, which is on the wavy side today, is tucked behind his ears.

  Liam laughs loudly as he hands my phone back. "Apparently, I'm old news. I like your friend, though."

  I smile as I read their exchange. "Don't worry, she likes you, too."

  "Oh, really? She's heard all about me then?" he teases.

  I roll my eyes. "I’m not answering that."

  I can tell he’s about to tease me more, when two girls approach our table to get his attention. He politely turns towards them but puts his arm around the back of my chair. I try to listen to their conversation, but all I can focus on is the feel of his bare arm against my back—not to mention the fact he’s obviously making himself appear unavailable on purpose.

  When the girls leave, Katherine leans our way to say, "See, action."

  Liam gives her a confused look. "Did I miss something?"

  "She's just in a mood," I say while making a point to look in Eric's direction.

  Liam leans in closer to follow my line of sight, which makes his entire side press against mine while his arm is still on the back of my chair. My mind really tries to ignore how much my body likes the contact. "Ah, I see. I'm afraid Eric is usually the one being chased," he tells Katherine. That much is obvious based on the crowd surrounding him.

  "Well, so am I," she replies while looking everywhere except Eric's direction.

  Liam’s voice is low so only I can hear. "Should be interesting, then." He checks his phone. "Time to start. Please stay."

  "I'll hold her down if I have to," Katherine replies.

  "Not really the answer I was hoping for but guess I'll take it." His fingers lightly trail along my back as he stands up.

  I suppress a full body shiver as goosebumps appear on my arms.

  As he walks towards the stage, his seat is instantly filled again. Fiery red hair is the first thing I notice as a boho-style bag lands on our table. "Someone sure is making a spectacle of himself tonight. I can practically hear all the hearts breaking in this pub." Emily's dazzling green eyes meet mine. "Hiya!"

  "Hi!" I say.

  "Good to see you again." She gives me a side hug and then leans towards Katherine. "And you must be Katherine. Eric has mentioned your name a few times, which might as well be a million for him."

  "Don't get her started," I say at the same time Katherine says, "Still not action."

  Emily looks between us, amused.

  Katherine leans forward. “Why don’t you have an accent?”

  “I was born in the U.S. Our family didn’t move to Scotland until I was ten,” Emily explains.

  “Why?” Katherine’s tone makes it sound like there could be absolutely no acceptable reason to leave America.

  “Dolly the sheep.”

  We both stare at her. “What?” I ask first.

  “You know, Dolly the sheep. Stem cell research. My dad’s a scientist.”

  “Oh, wow.” I say. “Have you met Dolly?”

  “Sure, she’s basically like a part of our family now.” Emily laughs. “Kidding!”

  Liam's voice carries across the pub. "Hello everyone! Thanks for coming to hear us tonight. We appreciate all of your support, even if you're just here to drink." Several patrons raise their glasses and yell in agreement. "We have Eric on drums, Rob on guitar, Lei on bass, and I'm Liam. We are Brotherhood , and we hope you enjoy the show."

  The first song is up-tempo, and a handful of people bravely make their way to the small area in front of the stage to dance. Liam nods to the newcomers as he begins singing.

  As his fingers wrap around the microphone stand, I think about those same callused fingers playing the violin at the concert the other night. It’s as if he’s split two different ways—classical violinist and alternative rock star.

  When we talked on the phone earlier this week, Liam described his voice as passable and said Rob had the better singing voice out of everyone. It doesn't really matter because all four of them come together and deliver some sort of musical magic on stage. It seems as if they’ve been playing together for years, not just one year.

  Towards the end of their set, Liam hops off stage, and Rob steps up to the microphone. "We're going to slow it down a minute." He begins playing a beautiful melody on an acoustic guitar.

  Liam squats behind my chair and speaks near my ear. "Dance with me?" He holds out his hand palm up.

  When I look back towards the stage, several couples are swaying along with the music. I agree by taking his hand, and our fingers intertwine as we walk to the front. Of course, all eyes are on us, and I can feel my cheeks instantly heat. As Emily said, Liam is definitely drawing attention to himself tonight.

  Once Liam pulls me into his arms, feelings begin flooding in. As in all the feelings. I want to pull him closer and push him away. I want to stay in his arms forever. At the same time, I almost wish I never knew this feeling so it can never be taken away.

  "This okay?" he asks.

  "Overwhelming," I answer honestly.

  He leans back a bit to look me in the eyes. "Good or bad?"

  I struggle with just how honest to be with him, but from what I know so far, he wants to know everything. "Can it be both? Can it be incredible and terrifying at the same time?"

  "If it matters at all, it usually is."

  I can only nod in agreement as Rob begins singing the first verse. The song is about young love found through handwritten letters.

  "He wrote this song for Emily," Liam explains as we keep swaying together. "Even though he lived here, and she lived in Scotland, they began writing letters to each other in Year 8 through a random pen pal program at school. They finally met in person during Year 11, and the rest is history."

  "Wow. I didn't even know pen pals still existed."

  "I like to think the program was revived just to bring them together." His tone carries all the love he obviously feels for his friends.

  "I'm guessing you believe in fate and all that." Even though he teased me about Mr. Darcy, he
definitely has Jane Austen books stashed away in his room somewhere.

  Liam evades the question by saying, "And I'm guessing you don’t."

  "Even if I did, fate has never worked out in my favor."

  "I don't know, you're here . . . with me. ” I can feel where every one of his fingertips touches my lower back as he holds me a little tighter.

  "Then fate has a name, and it's Katherine."

  He laughs softly. "If fate is Katherine then I have a feeling it will definitely work in my favor."

  "No doubt," I agree.

  "This is probably the first time I've danced at one of our shows."

  "I guess it would be challenging while you're singing."

  "That, and I'm not really good at it."

  I pull back in surprise. "You mean there are things you're not good at?" Although, he totally is.

  He playfully pinches my side. "Ha, ha. You seem to be good at this, though."

  "Dad taught me. In middle school, I was scared of dancing in front of people, so he would turn off all the lights in the living room, and we would move to the music in the dark."

  The idea seemed ridiculous when Dad first suggested it. Turning the lights off would not miraculously make me a better dancer, but I humored him anyway. After all, no one would be able to see me.

  "What song would he put on?" Liam asks.

  “Anything by Bob Marley or B.B. King."

  I remember my body began automatically swaying to the familiar music Dad always played in the car. The first touch of his hand on my arm had startled me, but I let him take my hand in his as he began leading our dance. Before I knew it, we had danced through an entire song. The room was suddenly bright as Mom stood by the light switch smiling at us both. Dad had kissed my hand he was holding and looked down at me to say, "See, anyone can dance."

  Liam pulls me out of the memory as his hand lightly holds the side of my face. He brushes his thumb across my cheek. I briefly close my eyes to shake the sadness away.

  So many people offered me comfort after Mom died, but as I stand here in his arms, I realize it’s the first time I’ve let someone comfort me over losing Dad.