Lexi Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 25)

by Faleena Hopkins

  Dad didn’t care.

  He taught me anyway.

  I’ll never forget Ma’s shock when she found me, alone, lighting a match to kindling at three o’clock in the morning one night. She’d shouted in horror, “What are you doing, Gage! My God!” dashing downstairs to find the flue properly opened and everything in working order as if Dad had built the fire. “Why, I can’t believe it! Did you do this all by yourself?”

  I was four.

  Tonight she sighs with memories of her own haunting eyes the same color as mine. “Well I hope you don’t mind if I have a glass of wine!”

  I watch her head for the kitchen. “Ma?”

  She spins around, “Yes?” purple robe billowing at the bottom.

  I point at the mantle. “Isn’t that your glass?”

  “Oh goodness!” She blinks to where she left one by Heather’s Senior picture. “It is!”

  I walk over with her, compelled to look at my baby sister’s photo, one of dozens from that shoot. The photographer was very talented. She really captured Heather’s inner and outer beauty. I just wish my sis saw this when she looked in mirrors.

  Mom retrieves her wine, sipping with newfound sorrow as she stands by my side.

  I exhale, voice quiet. “First Dad. Then Heather.”

  Ma clasps her glass with both hands as a grounding agent. “I think that’s what sent her over the edge, losing your father.”

  “I lost him, too.” I grumble, anger edging in.

  “Gage…”

  “And what about you?! Didn’t she think about what it would do to you? Me, I can understand how she’d think I’d be okay. I’ve always been so damn stone-faced maybe she couldn’t know how much I loved her! But she knew you did, Ma! She knew you’d be crushed. That you’d just lost Dad, too! Heather had to know what it would do to you, losing him and her in a year!”

  Calm hands place the glass back on the mantle, and Mom meets my eyes with such patience it’s hard to believe she’s not a saint. “Gage honey, resentment hurts only you, no one else.”

  “I just—”

  “—I know. Believe me, I know,” she smiles with tears in her eyes. “You’re protective of me. And you’re hurt she made that terrible choice that left us both with this agony. So am I! But honey, you have to find a way to not let it eat at you.”

  Turning my back on the impossible advice and its giver, I walk to Dad’s chair and sit down, raking my hair as I stare at our old coffee table. “How?! You’re over here living with these ghosts, alone and staring at her picture. One day you seem like you’re fine. Then tonight you left a voicemail that scared the hell out of me!”

  I’d hardly recognized her voice. It was good that Lexi offered to give me space because the second I dropped her at home I listened to a message that had me breaking speed limits before I hung up.

  “Oh no! I’m so sorry, Gage! I didn’t mean to scare you!” She hurries over to kneel in front of me, searching my eyes. “You listen to me right now! You’re all I have left and I’m all you’ve got, too. I will never take my own life and leave you here all alone. I will never do that to you! Do you hear me? I promise!” She walks to her favorite chair, sitting down and closing her eyes. “I’m grieving. That’s all. It’s just this day. The anniversary. It was too much.”

  My jaw is clenched, teeth grating until I finally decide to do something useful, rising and walking to her wine glass. “Here Ma.”

  Her eyes squint open, “Oh, thank you,” and she rests it on her stomach, closing them again. Her irises stood out to me — especially bloodshot — because of what Lexi said about the crocodile shade of green. It’s an accurate description. One I’d never thought of.

  To see Mom better since hers and Dad’s favorite chairs are beside each other, I take a seat on the couch opposite, moving multiple pillows I’ve never seen the point of. Two is fine, but eight? I glance over and catch her watching me with a smile.

  “You always fight those.”

  “I’m outnumbered.”

  Ma chuckles, and takes a small sip. “I’ve been nursing this for almost three hours.”

  “It’s half full.”

  “My optimist.” That earns a laugh from me, and she smiles, peering at the glass “It was all the way full when I started in on it.”

  “Nice to know you’re not a lush.”

  “Wish I could be sometimes. Would be nice to disappear, wouldn’t it?”

  “Works for some. Not for most.”

  She stares at me, thoughtful. “Where were you tonight? You look dressed up. And dusty.”

  I drag my hand down my face, “I was on a date.”

  “Tonight?”

  Swiping warehouse-dust from my lap, I mutter, “Yeah.”

  Mom whispers, “Oh,” and it’s undeniably disapproving.

  Meeting her eyes, I explain, “I almost didn’t make plans tonight, but then I did.”

  “I see.”

  “Can I be honest with you?”

  Her expression clears. “Of course! You know I’ve always taught you to be honest.”

  “You may not want to hear it.”

  “I don’t always like to, but I want to.”

  “Fine.” Moving to the couch’s edge, I lean on my forearms. “I don’t want to remember this day every year.” Mom’s face scrunches with shock. “Don’t want to relive it again and again. It doesn’t feel right. I just think it’s better to celebrate her birthday instead. The day she came to be, not the one she left us on.”

  Mom’s facial muscles take five whole seconds to calm down. Feels much longer, as time does when you’re waiting for a reaction you can’t predict, but that matters to you.

  She lifts her glass, but decides not to sip, lowering it again. “That sounds awfully healthy.”

  “Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy your chardonnay,” I smile, trying to add a little levity. “Don’t have to get too healthy.”

  Her eyebrows rise. “You know what this is?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “But you drink beer.”

  “Craft beer, to be specific. But what’s that got to do with it? The only wine you’ve ever had probably since before I was born is chardonnay.”

  A smile dances in her eyes. “I didn’t think you noticed.”

  Leaning back, legs spread, I admit, “Not until I was in high school but I noticed.”

  Mom shakes her head. “Children are so self-absorbed when they’re growing, they barely pay attention to you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “No maybe!” She sips the wine. “Who are you dating?”

  I stand up and swipe at my pants to get them back in place. Less dusty, too. “Nobody.”

  “Are you leaving?”

  “I was thinking I might crash in my old room. Have coffee with you in the morning before I go to work.”

  “Oh Gage!” She flies up from her chair. “Really?”

  A grin flashes and I head for the stairs. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She hurries to follow, standing by the bannister as she calls up, “It must be someone special to get you all dressed up like this.”

  “Nope.”

  “And avoiding the subject!”

  She looks so much smaller from up here, but just as nosey. “Trust me, Ma,” I smirk, “Don’t get excited. It’s nothing.”

  “Maybe it’s something!”

  “No, it isn’t.” Walking to my old room, I mutter under my breath, “It’s just casual.”

  Chapter Twenty

  GAGE

  C an’t sleep.

  That conversation — every bit of it — is running through my head.

  Plus, it’s too early for bed.

  Not by much.

  But enough.

  Dropped her off just after ten.

  Came straight here.

  It’s only…

  What time is it?

  Eleven-thirty.

  Half hour to go before my inner clock says punch the time-card. Work ove
r.

  But it wasn’t all work.

  No.

  It sure wasn’t.

  Rolling over, I reach for my phone on the nightstand, and squint at a screen made brighter by darkness’s contrast. Paid for black-out curtains when I was a teen. They sure work.

  “Gage?” comes her smiling voice with no sign of grogginess.

  “Hey Cherry,” I relax back on the pillow. “Guess I didn’t wake you.”

  “It’s still early.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  “What’re you doing? Are you watching a movie… or reading a book?”

  I throw one arm behind my head to get comfortable. “Are they my only options?”

  “They’re what people normally do when they can’t sleep.”

  “What about phone scrolling?”

  With a smirk in her tone she accurately guesses, “You don’t seem the type.”

  “That obvious, huh?” I chuckle. “I can live with that. So what about you, Cherry? Movie or a book?”

  “Since I don’t live alone I’ve got more options.” Her voice becomes thoughtful as she admits, “Although we were going to watch a movie so I guess I’m predictable. But unexpected company dropped in, so now we’re playing a card game.”

  I frown, “What company?”

  “Say hi, Ryder.”

  A male voice ask, “Who am I saying hi to?”

  “Gage Holbrook. He’s having trouble sleeping.”

  Two female voices call out, “Hi Gage!” belonging to her sister and cousin, I assume.

  There’s a tightness in my muscles I don’t like. Who is this Ryder guy?

  “Since you’ve got company, I’ll let you go, Cherry.”

  “What? No, you don’t have to do that. Hold on. Sammy, play my hand for me. I’m going to my room for a sec.”

  I hear her sister argue, “But then I’ll know what you have!”

  “Okay, Zoe, you do it. I know you won’t cheat.”

  Sam cries out, “Hey!”

  Lexi laughs, “Then stop complaining,” and I hear the sounds of shuffling, which must be her getting up. Her tone becomes intimate as she describes, “I’m taking you through my hallway. We’re just passing the bathroom. Hey, who left the light on? I’ll just turn that off. And now we’re walking into my bedroom. I’m closing the door. Wait for it… and hello!”

  “Thanks for the tour.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Who’s Ryder?”

  “Jealous?”

  “Have no right to be.”

  “But are you?”

  “Be pretty weird you having a guy over after our date.”

  “Ew. No. Ryder is almost a cousin but not quite. Which is lucky for Zoe,” she laughs, and goes on to explain who he’s actually related to, where he came from, and the unrequited infatuation Zoe’s got for him. “He’s been here about an hour or so, and Sam and I still can’t tell if he’s into her or not. I’ll tell you the truth — it’s a mystery I don’t think we’ll ever solve. So what about you? What are you doing? Movie or a book, since you’re alone.”

  “I’m not alone.”

  A long pause. “What?!”

  “I drove to my Mom’s after dropping you off.”

  “Oh!!!” she says with what sounds like relief. But then she realizes why I’d do that, and adds a quiet, “Ohhhh!”

  “Yeah.”

  “How is she?”

  Throwing off the blanket, I walk to my curtains. “Not great.”

  “What’s that sound?”

  “Metal hooks on a curtain rod. I’m in my old room. Don’t have much of a view. Just some trees. The neighbor’s house. But there were a lot of stars out tonight and they’re better than what I was looking at.”

  “Which was?”

  “Darkness.”

  “Stars would be better.”

  “Yup.” I lean on my shoulder to stare at the sky. “You know what’s even better than these?”

  “Not many things.”

  “Watching you dance tonight, Cherry. That was a sight even stars can’t compete with.”

  An intimate laugh massages my ears. Even sounds a little shy. “Thank you, Gage. I’m glad you liked it.”

  “I liked it very much.”

  “So you’re in your old room?”

  “Yep.”

  “Describe it to me.”

  Taking a deep breath, I glance around, not sure what to say. “I’ve got the normal stuff. A bed. Dresser. Nightstands. Lamps.”

  “Everyone has those. Tell me something I don’t know. What’s in there that’s totally you?”

  Taking another look, I shrug, “Car calendar. All vintage.”

  “That makes sense. Is yours in there?”

  “Yeah, there’s a Bronco, but it’s blue.”

  “What else?”

  “Trying to remember. Uh, there’s a black Mustang—”

  “Not in the calendar! What else is in your room?”

  “Welding tools.”

  She says, “Welding tools?” like she’s scrunching her nose.

  “Yeah. A four-and-a-half inch and a six inch angle grinder. Helmet. Three pair of protective goggles.”

  “Three fashion statements?”

  I chuckle, “Yeah I’ve got them in different colors. One’s a zebra print.”

  “Stop,” she laughs, “I was teasing you! Wasn’t serious.”

  “I’ve got three because it took me two to find one I liked.”

  “Ah…what else?”

  “Stack of wire cutters. Some things I fused together in classes.”

  “Okay, I know nothing about welding! What in the world do you learn in a welding class?”

  I mutter, “Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t,” before taking a breath to think about what might interest her, “Well, let me see. One thing you learn is how different metals work together. Or don’t. If you combine the wrong kind, say you connect a copper pipe with a galvanized pipe, they will eventually corrode because they’re incompatible. You’ve got to connect them with an adapter or the connection won’t last.”

  “What’s galvanized?”

  “Steel or iron, depending on what you need them for. Or which you like better.”

  In the distance I hear her sister shouting, “Are you coming back?”

  She yells, “In a minute!” and lowers to normal volume. “Sam’s feeling like a third wheel. I’ve gotta go soon.”

  “We can hang up now if you want.”

  A silent pause. “Not yet.”

  I squint out the window. “You wouldn’t find my room very interesting.”

  “How do you know that, Gage? That was interesting what you just told me!”

  “I just know.”

  New silence.

  But a different kind.

  It’s in both of us now.

  Finally she says, “I should go.”

  “Yeah. Have fun.”

  “You going to sleep?”

  “Soon. Looking forward to having coffee with my mom in the morning.”

  Her voice softens. “I’m sure she’ll love that.” Taking a deep breath, Lexi adds, “There’s something about sharing coffee in the morning.”

  “You like coffee?”

  “Of course!”

  “I coined you more a tea girl.”

  “Nope. See, this is the difference between me and the yoga-heads. I love coffee and they’re all about the herbals.”

  “Black coffee?”

  She blanches, “No! Almond milk and raw sugar. That’s my jam. I bet you like it black, don’t you?”

  “Yep.”

  “I knew it!”

  “Not hard to guess. I fit a mold.”

  “What mold?”

  “Beer drinking mechanic who takes his coffee black.”

  “You think you’re a stereotype?”

  “I think I’m simple.”

  “You know what I think?”

  Not sure I want to know, but curiosity wins out. “What do you
think, Cherry?”

  “I think a beer-loving, black-coffee-drinking guy who drops off his date to go be with his mother on a hard night like this, and stays over to keep her company so she’s not alone in the morning, isn’t stereotypical in the slightest. I think there’s one thing I’d call him: Good.” My gaze drops as I blink at her compliment, not sure what to say. Lexi adds, voice quieter. “And I think your Mom must’ve done something right.”

  Samantha shouts, “Lexi! You’re losing!”

  She yells, “Oh, real nice!” and returns to me. “I’ve gotta go.”

  “Hey Cherry, what’re you doing on Sunday?”

  “Don’t have anything concrete just yet.”

  “Yeah you do.”

  “Oh I do?” she laughs.

  “Yep. Now go kick their asses.”

  “Sleep well, Gage.”

  “Night, Cherry.”

  We hang up and I stare at the stars for a long time, thinking about my sister, my mom, my dad, and how unpredictable life is. One day everyone’s alive. Another, they’re not. One night you’re drinking a beer after work, the next you’re waking up next to a ginger who keeps you guessing. And on another your dinner plans get scrapped and you’re in some abandoned warehouse eating takeout and watching a dancer turn a song you’ve never paid much attention to into a work of art you can’t get out of your mind.

  Like it or not, go with it or don’t, but as much as I can figure it, life has one constant.

  It’s fuckin’ unpredictable.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  LEXI

  N ow that church is over, the congregation is flowing out like water from a newly opened faucet, few droplets resisting the pull of donuts, coffee and light-hearted conversation.

  As the warm sunlight of a cloudless morning hits our three relaxed faces, Samantha and Zoe predictably veer left for the line.

  I veer right. “Um…”

  They stop and tilt their heads.

  I turn mine toward the street where a shiny red Bronco waits on idle, and meet their eyes after they notice him, realizing all at once that I’m abstaining from our weekly after-Mass ritual. “Just this once!”

  Sammy’s chestnut eyes narrow, smile tugging hard but held back. “Didn’t think to tell us earlier?”

  Zoe is gazing between my sister and me as I shrug an unapologetic, “No.” She remains quiet, not sure what to say.