by Ciara Shayee
“You…why would…you can’t say things like that!”
“Why not?”
“Because…” I flounder for a moment, shaking my head and speeding up to catch up with him. “Because it’s mean to tease.”
“Who says I’m teasing, short stuff?”
My poor brain can’t keep up.
One minute he’s slamming on the brakes, the next he’s teasing…or he’s not. I can’t even tell. The tiny smirk on his face gives nothing away, nor does the moonlit jade of his eyes. If he didn’t look so pleased with himself, and if he didn’t look so damn hot or even obviously smug, I might be able to muster some annoyance. As it is, I’m mildly frustrated.
“God, Kellan—”
“I’m sorry.” He stops, gently taking one of my hands to turn me toward him. I can see the regret in the curve of his frown; his hesitance and sincerity shine through his eyes. I’m just not sure what it is, exactly, that he regrets. “We’ve both had a few too many drinks to be acting completely rationally, I think.”
My heart sinks. So that’s the excuse he’s going with. Noted. I slip my hand from his, shoving both in my pockets.
I get it, I get it, I get it, I think, trying to talk myself out of falling into my usual cycle of rejection fueled self-depreciation.
Before he can completely crush my frail ego, I do it myself. “You’re right. No harm, no foul.”
Confusion knots my brows as Kellan’s expression shifts. He looks away for a moment, and when he turns back, he’s not the Kellan of thirty seconds ago. He’s closed off, blank-faced.
“You’d better get inside,” he says simply, dismissing me.
Looking up, I realize we’re at the foot of Mom and Dad’s driveway. The lights are all off except in the foyer, its welcoming glow sneaking through the glass in the top of the front door. Suddenly, all I want is my bed. “Thanks for walking me home.”
He nods, itching to leave. He shuffles his feet, rubs his neck, and glances in the direction that leads to his house a couple of streets over.
He’s already running but he hasn’t even moved yet.
“Welcome.”
“Goodnight, Kellan,” I whisper, heading up the drive.
When I peer out of my bedroom window a few minutes later, part of me hopes he’ll still be standing there.
He isn’t.
*
Every year on the Fourth of July, all the residents of Jackson Bay put together a parade.
Compared to some other places, it’s a pretty small affair. The businesses in town gather some floats, Burger Co. usually caters, and the whole town turns out in force to watch the fireworks on the beach.
I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I wake up on the fourth and remember that my boys are going to be right up there at the front of the parade. Swan’s Nest is the main sponsor this year, so Dad invited the boys, Danny, and the entire graduating preschool class of Jackson Bay Montessori to be the mascots.
“Momma, today’s the parade!” Jaxson crows, leaping onto my bed when the sun is barely shining through the drapes.
Groaning, I roll over and tug him with me. He giggles, wriggling around to sneak under the covers. I slowly ease one eye open.
Moppy-haired and still wrinkled with pillow lines across his cheek, Jaxson grins, leaning in to pop a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Mornin’, Momma. It’s the Fourth of July!”
“I know, baby,” I rasp, still half-asleep but waking up fast. “Are you excited?”
“Uh-huh. Papa says me, Finn, and Arlo are gonna be at the front.”
“That’s right, you will be—Danny, too. That means you’ve got to behave.”
Jaxson flashes me his father’s grin and crosses his heart. It’s then that I notice…
“Did you lose your pj’s while you were sleeping, kiddo?”
There is no sweeter sound than my boy’s giggles. Jaxson’s are way too loud for my still-waking-up ears, but they’re still glorious as I tickle his bare belly before burying my face in his neck and blowing raspberries against his skin.
“Momma, stop,” he whines, wriggling away from my tickling fingers. When I let up with one last, loud smooch to his forehead, he offers me the sort of long-suffering smile I’m sure I wear when my parents are embarrassing. “You’re silly.”
“But you love me silly,” I point out, snuggling back down under the covers with my biggest boy.
“Yeah, I guess you’re fun.” Before I can tickle attack him again, Jaxson twists to face me, tucking his hand under his head and resting it on the pillow. I mirror him, already obscenely sad about the fact that, one day, he won’t want to do this with me anymore.
“What’s up, kiddo? You’ve got your thinking face on.”
“I’m just wonderin’…can we go eat at Kellan’s restaurant again?”
My stomach twists. Since that awkward ending to a great night the other day, I haven’t seen Kellan. The day after I helped at the restaurant, he dropped an envelope of cash into the mailbox with my name and “thank you” scribbled on the front. He didn’t even come to the door.
It’s obvious that he regrets what happened. I can still remember the whisper-soft brush of his fingers against me, the trail they blazed down my stomach, and his strong chest at my back. It’s pretty clear he wishes he could forget it all.
I’m disappointed, but I can’t say I’m surprised.
“I don’t know, baby,” I sigh. “He’ll be at the parade today. You’ll see him there if you get hungry.”
“I’m already hungry.”
“Shock, horror,” I laugh. “What do you say, shall we get up and make some breakfast? You need lots of fuel in your belly to get you through today.”
“Can we have muffins? Ooh, and bacon?”
“Sure, Jax, whatever you want.”
After sending him off to fetch some pajamas, we head downstairs together. Nobody else is up yet, so we have the kitchen to ourselves.
“All right, kiddo. Do you remember what we need to make the muffins?”
“Uh, I think so…”
Stepping into the pantry together, I grin and congratulate him when he remembers all the ingredients except two—the cinnamon and milk.
By the time we’ve measured and mixed everything and started spooning the mixture into cupcake liners, Mom and Finley are up.
“Morning, sweetheart. Happy Fourth.” Mom plants a kiss on the side of my head before grabbing Jaxson’s face to pepper it with noisy kisses.
“Nana!” he whines, but his big grin tells me he’s loving it.
“What? It’s a nana’s right to give her grandbabies some love in the morning.” She turns her attention to Finley next, who flushes crimson but laps up her attention.
Once she’s done, Mom sits herself at the breakfast bar beside Finley. He’s still waking up, his eyes half-lidded and his hair an absolute mess as he rests his elbows on the counter and his chin in his hands.
“What are we making this morning?” Mom asks, eyeing the mess across the counter.
“Breakfast muffins!” Jaxson crows, adding a too-big dollop of mixture to one of the liners.
“Careful, don’t overload it, kiddo.”
He flashes me a smile and takes some out, dumping it in the next one. “Fixed it.”
“Can I help at all?”
“No, Mom. You sit and relax. Can I get you a coffee?”
She smiles and shakes her head—at my refusal to let her help, probably—before asking for her usual. Thankfully, she’s easy when it comes to coffee. Black, no sugar is the way she’s always taken it.
As I set the steaming coffee in front of her a couple of minutes later, Jaxson tells me he’s done and the bowl is basically empty.
“You can share the bits in the bowl with your brother,” I tell him, laughing when he groans. He should think himself lucky it’s just Finley. If Arlo were up, his big brothers likely wouldn’t get a look in. As it happens, I don’t
expect him to surface for a while yet. He loves his sleep, like me. We’re the bed hogs while Jaxson and Finley are my early risers.
With Mom sipping her coffee, the boys sharing the little bits of batter in the bowl, and the muffins cooking in the oven, I lean against the counter and sip my latte as I run through today’s to-do list.
“Momma, are we gonna be off the ground when we float today?” Jaxson asks around his fingers.
Handing him a spoon, I smile at his mumbled, not-very-sincere apology as he continues shoving whatever leftover batter he can into his mouth. His brother has given up now there’s basically nothing left, but not Jaxson. He’s nothing if not tenacious to the end.
“Off the ground? What do you mean?”
“You know,” he says in a way that tells me he thinks I should know what he’s talking about, even though I have no idea. “When we float?”
Oh.
“You mean when you’re on the float?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“You won’t be floating, kiddo. It’s called a float because…” Looking at Mom, I ask her because I haven’t a clue where floats get their name from. “Why are they called ‘floats?’”
“Well, don’t ask me how I know this because I really can’t remember, but I believe they were first introduced in the Middle Ages for a celebration, and they decorated boats and barges on the River Thames, which obviously floated.”
That would make sense, I suppose. “Huh. You learn something new every day.”
Jaxson frowns. “So we’re not gonna float?”
“No, kiddo. You’re not going to float. You do get to ride on the big trailer at the front of the parade, though. That’s cool, right?”
“Sure.” He shoots Mom a mischievous grin. “That means I get more cookies, right, Nana?”
“You little ratbag. How did you know I’m baking cookies for your float?” Mom laughs, playfully tapping his cheeks.
“I heard you and Papa talkin’ about it last night. I’d prefer chocolate chip, if that’s okay. They’re your best ones.”
This kid, I swear. “You’ll be lucky if Nana gives you any, speaking to her like that.”
Summoning his best innocent expression, Jaxson dumps the now-empty mixing bowl on the side and twists to sit on the counter beside it, facing Mom. “Pretty, pretty please, Nana, may I have some chocolate chip cookies?”
If I were Mom, I’d make him sweat a little, but she’s too soft. Her faux-serious expression melts quicker than ice cream in summer. “Of course you can, sweetheart. You all can. But first, how about we have this breakfast, which smells delicious, by the way.”
“I helped!” Jaxson puffs his chest out, still sans shirt of course, and beams.
“Well, then I’m sure it will be extra delicious, sweetheart.”
Sure enough, when we pile out onto the patio fifteen minutes later with two trays of muffins and a plate of crispy bacon, Dad and Everly are drawn out by the smell of yummy food. Arlo follows shortly afterward, crawling into my lap with a body-shaking yawn and cheeks still marked by his pillow as I run my fingers through his wild mane. “Good sleep, baby?”
“Good,” he mumbles, tucking his head under my chin and wriggling his bony butt to get comfy. It’s not particularly comfortable for me, but I’ll never turn my boys away if they ask for cuddles. Never, ever.
By the time I’ve shared a plate of food with Arlo, he’s much more alert. He’s also remembered that it’s ‘parade day,’ so his excitement and energy levels skyrocket. I can already tell that wrangling him is going to be my full-time job today.
Well, if anything is going to distract me from Kellan’s continued ghosting and his inevitable presence at the parade, Arlo will be it.
Eleven
Kellan
Salty sea air, late afternoon sun, and the whoosh of the sea rushing up to the shore. My happy place.
Or, my comfortable place.
The beach is my favorite part of living in Jackson Bay. Spending the afternoon and evening serving the people of the town is no real hardship for me when I have the sounds and smells of my favorite place to keep me fueled.
It’s not like I’ve got a family desperate to spend the holiday with me.
“There ya go, man. That’ll be thirteen fifty.”
“Thanks, KP.”
Leaning against the counter after serving another happy customer, I release a long sigh and look out over the beach through the hatch.
I have the prime spot. Right where the sand meets The Boardwalk—the main street which cuts through Jackson Bay—sits the Burger Co. food truck. It comes out a few times a year for big events like this or when people hire us to cater parties and weddings.
While TJ, Lily, and Jones man the restaurant today, I’ve got Kelly with me in the truck and Burger Co.’s newest recruit, Xavier—or New Kid, as he’s better known—serving the picnic tables. He’s been with us part-time for a couple months now. He’s slow to pick things up, but the customers love him.
From my vantage point, I can see Amelia Paulson serving cones from her freezer cart and the Samuels family selling donuts and pastries decorated in red, white, and blue.
The Georges are serving off the deck of their pizzeria, the smell of the pizzas cooking in their clay ovens almost making me want to send New Kid over to grab me a slice. Thankfully, the competition hasn’t impacted my business as much as I was expecting. The usual suspects still come over for their favorite burgers and fries.
Speaking of usual suspects.
“Hey, KP.” Sebastian saunters over with Danny clinging to his shoulders, blue icing smeared across his chubby cheeks.
With a small, wry grin, I ask, “Did you get into the treats, Danny?”
The boy giggles, wiping his face with the back of his arm. “The pretzels are so good. You should go get some before they’re all gone.”
I nod. “I’ll be sure to do that.”
“How’s it goin’ over here?” Sebastian lifts his son down, setting him on his feet as he asks to go see one of his friends at a nearby table.
“Good. I wondered if people would head over to the pizzeria, but we’ve been busy all afternoon.”
Sebastian grins, fishing his wallet from the pocket of his shorts. I’m dropping a fresh batch of fries and reaching for the 60-40 beef and pork patties before he can request his usual. “And I’ll take some fries for the little one.”
“Sure thing.”
He waits for his food mostly silent, asking an occasional question and laughing when I grumble a curse, both of us watching New Kid drop a tray of fries.
“For fuck’s sake.”
“He the new guy?” Sebastian tosses his thumb over his shoulder, chuckling as I scowl and drop some more fries.
“Not anymore. He was new two months ago.”
“Ah,” he mouths as New Kid slowly walks over, his hand in his hair and a sheepish look on his face.
“Sorry, boss. You can take that outta my wages—”
“I was going to,” I tell him, barking that he can comp the table their whole meal as an apology.
Thankfully, Kelly returns from her break by the time I’ve served Sebastian his Spitfire burger and given Danny his fries. She’s just in time to take over and run the new batch of fries to the table who, thankfully, were happy to wait. When she returns, she tells me to grab a beer from the cooler and take a break.
“But I’m—”
“Nope. Don’t wanna hear it, KP.” She shoves a bottle into my hand, then gives me a good push until I step out of the door and down the three little steps onto the sand. “It’s almost closing down time anyway. We can handle it from here. You’ve been non-stop since silly o’clock this morning. Go chill out.”
“Kelly—”
“Kellan!”
Before I can finish arguing with Kelly, a little voice yells my name about three seconds before a small body slams into my legs. Peering down, I find Jaxson grinning a
t me. Like his cousin, he has icing smeared over his sun-flushed cheeks and all around his smile.
“Hey, buddy,” I chuckle, hesitating just as my hand rests on the top of his head. The bright smile he aims my way relaxes me, so I ruffle his mane of dark hair and remind myself to chill out.
He and his brothers have been by the restaurant with Bethany a few times now, so I’m getting used to their personalities slowly but surely. Jaxson is the loud, never-sits-still one. Finley seems to be quieter, more introspective. And Arlo is the confident, no-fear type. He reminds me a lot of myself as a kid.
“Momma said I’m not allowed to ask for fries, but if you offer some, that’s okay,” he says frankly, mischief lighting his eyes.
“Well, all right then. What fries can I get you?”
“What’s the options again?” He stands on his toes and squints at the blackboard. Again, I hesitate, but before I can take the board down for him to read, he taps my arm in a silent request to pick him up.
I don’t know why I’m so nervous, but my heart thumps faster as I look around before putting my beer on the steps and lifting him up with an arm around his middle. The heavy, warm weight of him in my arms is foreign, but not unpleasant. I list some of the options written on the blackboard, pausing when he asks what brisket is.
“Beef. We cook it overnight with a bunch of different spices and flavorings, then we shred it all up in the morning and the sauce goes over the meat and fries.”
“Are they good?” He’s already licking his lips, so I nod at Kelly and motion for her to get started.
“Everything’s good from this truck, buddy.”
“Okay.” Turning to me, he cocks his head. “Do you wanna come sit with us for a while? Momma and Papa and Nana have a whole basket of treats. Nana made pretzels with red, white, and blue icing.”
“That sounds great. I think Danny mentioned those.”
Jaxson’s smile widens. “Oh yeah. Aunt Gigi put him on a ban ‘cause he got a sugar rush.”
“That sounds about right,” I chuckle. I don’t see Gianna as much as I see Sebastian—not since she returned to her nine-to-five job and he quit his to be a stay-at-home dad—but I do know she can be a strict mom to her rambunctious kid. He sure keeps them both on their toes. I guess it doesn’t help that, with Sebastian being his primary caregiver, he gets away with way more than Gianna would let him.
