“I’ve heard that before,” she says, tapping the pen on the paper.
I have known Trent my whole life. His brother, Doug, is Jack’s best friend. We have been thrown together during our brothers’ t-ball and football practices and games, as well as too many Cub Scout events to count. We would play together when we were little, but as we get older we tend to ignore each other, doing our own thing when forced to be around one another.
Mackenna is right though. If I am being honest with myself, I have had a crush on him my whole life. I have written “Mrs. Trent Basso” millions of times and scribbled over it a zillion more. Regardless of my current feelings toward Trent, he is always on my MASH list for a future husband.
Today I hate Trent because, during recess, Evan Graham said that Trent asked him to ask me if Mackenna liked him. I tried to act as though it didn’t bother me, but I wanted to march over to Trent and kick him in the shin. I told Evan I would ask and get back to him tomorrow. I already knew her answer without having to ask her; she would never do that to me. I am so mad at Trent Basso today that I knock him down from his number one spot to my fourth option for future husband. Baby steps.
At the end of my MASH, I am married to Jimmy Schmidt, the class clown, and drive a minivan around Alaska with only one child. Not even close to my best life. I throw my binder on the bench in front of me, leaning back to enjoy the sunshine.
“Let’s do it again,” Mackenna says eagerly.
“No, I’m tired. Let’s just relax.” I don’t open my eyes. I want to empty my mind and enjoy the peace, knowing it will end when Jack and I go home.
“You go ahead and relax; I am going to play some football.” Mackenna walks down the bleachers over to Bryan, Trent, and the other boys.
I open one eye, peering down at her. I am jealous of her confidence. She just walks right up to the guys, grabs the football from Trent, and throws it to Bryan. The boys seem annoyed that she is interrupting their game but they let her join in. I see Trent trying to show her how to throw a football, but she just pushes him away and takes the ball again. I love that girl.
About fifteen minutes later, Mackenna comes running up the stairs and grabs her bag. Practice is over and the football team is making their way to the gates that enclose the field.
“Move your asses, Littles,” Trent’s brother Doug yells over to us. All the latchkey younger siblings are called “the Littles”. MacKenna is ‘Little Ross’, Trent is ‘Little Basso’, Bryan is ‘Little Edwards’, and I’m ‘Little Jennings’.
None of us say anything as we venture down to the end of the gates to meet our older siblings.
“Let’s go Mad; we’re going over to the Basso’s for dinner,” Jack says, motioning for me to hurry up.
“I’ll be right there.” I hold up my finger and give Mackenna a hug, even though I will probably talk to her in a couple of hours. I walk over to where Jack is already climbing into his Mustang, and see that Doug and Trent are already waiting for me. Doug pushes the front seat forward so I can climb in the back next to Trent.
“Hey, Maddy,” Trent says, turning his head to stare out the window.
“Hi, Trent,” I respond, staring out of my own window. That pretty much sums up our friendship lately. I have tried to figure out what happened to us but have come up with nothing.
We arrive at the Basso’s ten minutes later. They live on the outskirts of town and have acres of land with horses. Their house has a wraparound porch with flower baskets hanging out of every opening. It looks like something out of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine. As the Mustang comes to a stop at the top of their gravel driveway, their yellow lab greets us the second we open the door.
I bend down, letting Dixon climb on me while I pet him with both of my hands. I stand up and Dixon follows me to the front porch and into the house. I know this house as well as my own, since I have probably eaten dinner here more than mine. As soon as we walk in, Trent goes up the stairs to his room, Jack and Doug head to the basement to play pool, and I venture into the kitchen.
“I was wondering when you guys were going to get here,” Mrs. Basso says to me over her shoulder while she prepares dinner.
I sit on the stool at the breakfast bar, taking out my homework. “Hi, Mrs. Basso. Thank you for having us for dinner.” I am grateful that I didn’t have to make it myself tonight.
“Oh Maddy, you are always welcome. You know that.” Mrs. Basso turns around, smiling at me. She is the epitome of the perfect mom. She works at the local library, always has dinner on the table for her husband and boys, and she volunteers for all of the school functions and fundraisers.
“I know,” I say, and then begin to focus on my homework.
I am able to finish all of my homework while Mrs. Basso finishes dinner, humming to herself. She is always happy. I wonder what she knows that my mom doesn’t.
“Dinner, boys!” Mrs. Basso calls, taking out her ponytail and shaking her golden blond hair back and forth. She is a beautiful woman and doesn’t look her age at all.
Four boys come running in while I am setting out the plates and silverware.
“Hey, Madgirl. Long time no see,” Trent’s older brother, Gabe, says as he messes with my hair.
“Hi, Gabe,” I softly say. Gabe is fourteen and is a freshman at the high school. He doesn’t have to wait for Doug at practices because he is old enough to come home by himself.
“Where’s dad?” Doug asks, while stealing a roll out of the basket and devouring it. I can’t imagine how much food they must go through in this house with three boys.
I wonder why Mrs. Basso stays at home when her husband isn’t around. Not like my mom, who is gone as soon as my dad leaves town for a couple of days. They couldn’t be more different.
We eat the chicken and rice with broccoli, while the three older boys fight over the food. Trent is quiet, never looking up from his plate. I don’t know what I did to make him hate me so much? After dinner, Jack says that he wants to play one more game, so I go into the family room to watch television. Trent and Gabe are already in there. I decide to sit down on the opposite end of the couch as Trent. A couple of minutes later, Gabe leaves, mumbling something about homework.
I take this as my chance to find out what Trent’s problem is and why he is so set on ignoring me lately.
“So, you like Kenna?” I ask, not turning my head from the television.
“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug.
“You don’t know? Well, why did you ask Evan to ask me to ask her then?” I ask, looking at him out of the corner of my eye to try and read his expression.
He sighs and says, “I wanted to see what you would say.”
“What do you mean? If you like her, go ahead and ask her out,” I say, even though my heart is screaming at me to say something else.
“I don’t like Kenna.” He moves closer to me on the couch. I am totally confused by this boy.
“Then why did you have Evan ask me that?” I repeat, turning to face him on the couch. We have been friends since we were in diapers. Why is everything so awkward now?
“I wanted to see if you would be jealous,” he says quietly, taking my hand and entwining our fingers.
“Did you get the reaction you wanted?” I ask, not removing my hand with his.
“No, I thought you liked me. Am I wrong?” He is staring at me now, his crystal blue eyes boring into mine. I couldn’t look away if I tried.
“You are right, I do like you.” I bite my lower lip, unsure of what happens now.
“I like you too,” Trent whispers and turns around to watch television, never letting go of my hand.
Chapter 2 – Present Day 25 years old
The plane dips down and both of my hands clutch the armrests. I have never liked flying but I am extra on edge this trip. I don’t want to go back home but I have no choice. My brother has decided to finally marry his college sweetheart, Lindsey Jacobson.
Don’t get me wrong. I love Lindsey and I coul
dn’t ask for a better sister-in-law. The problem is that they planned a week-long wedding extravaganza and, like every other wedding of the Bigs and Littles over the years, everyone is involved. Therefore, I’m not only spending a week with Jack and Lindsey and their wedding party, but I’ll also be seeing Bryan, Mackenna, and, from what I heard last night, Trent.
A hand squeezes mine gently. “It’s alright sweetie, just some turbulence,” Ian Fisher, my best friend, says quietly.
“I know. I hate flying,” I say. Ian and I became best friends our senior year of college when we worked together at the rec center. We both lusted over the same guy but unfortunately for me, the object of our mutual affection swung Ian’s way, not mine.
I made Ian take a week off work to come with me, and since he already knows most of the people, it will make things easier. I need him there with me to face everyone again.
“It’s going to be fine Maddy, just relax.” Ian looks at me, squeezes my hand, and then goes back to reading his magazine. We both know he isn’t talking about the flight, and we also both know that things won’t be fine.
The plane lands five minutes early. I am torn with wanting to get off or not, but I know I have to. Ian and I make our way to baggage claim and he stops on the way to get one of the luggage carts.
“Why do we need that?” I ask sharply.
“For our bags. I can’t carry them all,” he snaps back to me.
“How many bags to do you have?” I met him at the gate this morning so both of us had already checked our luggage.
“I don’t know,” he says, tilting his head down to look at me.
“Oh God, you probably have more than me,” I gripe.
“Probably. Now help me pull this through,” Ian says, yanking at the cart corral.
“Here, let me help,” a deep voice says from behind us.
I see the tanned forearm easily guide the cart out of the corral. My eyes roam upward, taking in a firm bicep, strong shoulders, and when my eyes reach the face attached to all of the above, I gasp.
“Hey Madgirl, long time no see,” Gabe Basso says, smirking at me.
“Gabe,” I say stunned. I’m not ready to face him so soon.
“I know, I caught a break at work in order to get here early.” His eyes leave mine, focusing on Ian. “Hi, I’m Gabe,” he says, extending his hand out toward Ian.
Ian looks as dumbfounded as I probably do, but puts his hand out to shake Gabe’s.
“Sorry, Ian this is Gabe Basso. Gabe, this is Ian Fisher.” I motion my finger back and forth between the two of them.
“Nice to meet you,” Ian says.
Gabe nods his head to him. “What baggage claim are you guys at?” he asks.
“Five, you?” Ian takes charge of the conversation, since apparently I have been struck mute. If I am this bad in front of Gabe, how will I make it through everyone else?
Gabe’s eyes shift to me and I see the concern in his eyes. “Six,” he answers. “Is anyone picking you guys up?” he asks, still looking at me. I can’t believe how much he looks like Trent, or more accurately, how much Trent looks like him.
“I rented a car. I didn’t want to rely on anyone for rides the whole week,” I say, divulging more information than necessary.
“Do you mind if I hitch a ride? I was going to catch a cab, but since you guys are here....” he says, his sentence trailing off.
“Sure, no problem,” I say with a shrug.
The three of us walk over to our respective baggage claims. I can see Gabe’s has already started moving, but ours is still quiet. A minute later, Gabe jogs over to us, holding a garment bag in his hand.
Although it’s only June, Gabe is already tan, which I assume has to do with living in Florida instead of the Midwest. I’d heard that Gabe moved down there after college with a couple of buddies, going in together on some real estate deals. I also heard that he’s doing pretty well for himself, especially for only being twenty-eight.
My bag is the first to come off, and I hope that’s a sign that this week won’t be too bad. Ian is waiting next to his cart; he has pulled off two bags already and is going for a third. His matching plaid faux designer-print luggage is a set of five and I assume he brought every piece.
“How much luggage did he bring?” Gabe asks, motioning his head toward Ian.
“I have no idea, but I bet he comes home with even more than he brought,” I say, smiling.
“I guess he’ll be prepared for whatever is going on. From what Doug told me, it’s going to be quite a week.”
“Yeah, I haven’t heard much of anything,” I respond, raising my shoulders and looking down at my feet.
“Knowing Jack, I’m sure he’s planned a fun time.”
“That’s my brother, party planner extraordinaire,” I say, smiling back up at him, noticing how perfect and white his teeth are.
“I’m looking forward to it; it has been a killer summer. All of our houses are booked for the season and we have been working like crazy getting everything ready. It was all I could do to get the time off,” he explains. “How about you, Maddy? What’s the decorating business like?”
“Hard to get into. I do most of my work for free, just to get my foot in the door. I tried to work as an assistant for another decorator, but they just want to boss you around and do their personal errands,” I confess. I have actually thought about switching careers lately, but I don’t want to go back to school.
“Yeah, I have heard that. I had a friend who graduated in fashion design and she had a hard time too.”
“What happened? Did she finally break through?” I cross my fingers, praying his answer is ‘yes’. I could use some hope to continue with my dream.
“Unfortunately, no. She ended up getting married to some investment banker she met and now lives in Connecticut with two kids,” he says, giving me a lopsided smile.
“Oh,” I murmur, deflated. I knew going into design that few people were able to really succeed in it, but since it’s my passion, I went for it anyway.
“But,” he says, nudging his shoulder with mine, “she wasn’t half as talented as you, Madeline Jennings.” He smiles down at me sweetly.
“Thank you,” I grin back, “but you have never seen my work.”
“Yes, I have,” he answers. Before I can question him further, we see Ian coming over with his cart overflowing with luggage.
“About time, Ian.” I turn around, towing my suitcase behind me. Suddenly, I feel my suitcase jerk to a stop behind me.
Gabe is there grabbing it. “You might as well take advantage of the cart,” he says, taking the suitcase from my hands and placing it on the cart. Ian huffs as though it is too much to push, but Gabe and I both chuckle as we walk to the rental car counter.
As soon as we get there, the young boy behind the counter motions for me to step forward so I walk over to him. I am surprised to see Gabe step up next to me.
“Can I help you?” the young kid asks.
“Reservation for Madeline Jennings.” I place my ID and credit card on the counter.
“Okay, we have you down for a compact this week.” The kid moves to take my ID and credit card, but a hand quickly covers them both.
“Can we upgrade to an SUV?” Gabe asks.
“What?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at him.
“His luggage isn’t going to fit in a compact,” he says, pointing to an exhausted Ian who is making his way over to the rental car place with all of the luggage in tow.
“We will have to strap it to the roof. I can’t afford to upgrade,” I admit, nodding to the young man to continue with the previously agreed upon transaction.
“First of all, I don’t think a compact has a rack you can strap luggage to,” he says, laughing. “Second, I would never make you pay. Let me get an SUV, and we can share it all week. We will be going to the same places anyway,” he adds, awaiting my answer.
I bite my bottom lip, contemplating my options. “I can’t let you do that, Gabe.
Not to mention, the reason I’m getting a rental car is so that I don’t have to rely on anyone this week.”
He pulls out his wallet, handing the kid his ID and credit card. “Go ahead and book us an SUV and put both of our names on it.” He grabs my credit card and hands it back to me. “You can keep the truck and come get me when we are doing something,” he says with finality.
Did I miss something? Since when is he in charge of me? The problem is, I knew Ian’s luggage might be a problem. I guess I will just go ahead with Gabe’s plan and then drop the truck off later for him to use. I don’t need or want his charity.
We lug all of Ian’s bags onto the shuttle van that will take us to the rental car lot. When we arrive, Gabe makes me pick out the SUV we are going to use. Of course, Gabe doesn’t just get a regular SUV; he has to get a full-sized one. I pick a nice blue Chevy Tahoe, but it is huge and I don’t really want to drive it. After living in New York for the past two years, I’ve gotten used to not driving, and to go from taxi cabs to this monster of a truck is too much for me to take. When Gabe tries to give me the keys, I tell him to keep them.
Gabe raises his eyebrows, but begins loading the SUV with luggage. When the last bag is in the back, I am astonished to see that it is jam-packed with luggage. Does he always have to be right?
We head down the freeway toward our town, which is about an hour outside of Chicago. I can’t stop nibbling on my lower lip. I don’t know what to expect when I get there. I have heard Gabe’s phone buzz a few times with text messages, and I wonder who they are from.
By the time we pass the sign “Welcome to Belcrest: population 1,531”, my lip is raw and I am starting to sweat. I can’t believe I am back in the one place I swore I would never return.
“Holy shit. You weren’t kidding when you said you came from a small town,” Ian remarks from the backseat.
“Belcrest is small but mighty. Right, Madgirl?” Gabe playfully nudges me with his elbow. That is how the football team has always been described, ‘small but mighty’. We’ve never had as many guys as the other teams, but we were still state champions five years in a row when my brother and Gabe played. By the time I graduated, the run ended.
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