by Clara Stone
I save the one where she’s cross-eyed, with a butterfly on the tip of her nose, to her ringtone. I run a finger across the picture and smile, studying her puckered lips and the way her shoulder tilts up to touch her cheek. These moments are what set us apart. So what if she’s seeing Vinny-the-pooh, or Joe Bag O’Doughnuts? At the end of the day, we have something that can’t be compared. We’re us, and nobody can take that away.
“Oh, don’t move!” Ace squeals. “You have the orange and blue one right there.” She points to my shoulder. She takes my phone and snaps a picture of us, her looking into the phone, me looking at her, grinning.
“I think I blinked,” I say. But before we can take another, the butterfly flies away. “Next time.”
“Not a chance! Stay right there.” Phone in hand, she half jogs, half skips to find a dude in a blue shirt. She speaks to him and then points at me. His gaze follows her finger, and he nods. With him in pursuit, she walks toward me. “We need to find more butterflies.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, ‘why’?” She looks bewildered. “You weren’t ready for that last picture. And I want a picture of us with the butterflies.”
Shaking my head, I follow her while the volunteer waits patiently. After a few minutes, she sighs in frustration.
“This isn’t working!”
I don’t like disappointing her. So I pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her, and kiss her forehead. “We don’t need another picture of butterflies. We have plenty.”
She pouts. “We have plenty of me and one of you. But not plenty of us with butterflies.”
“Okay, okay. How about we get one next to that bush . . . ?” I point to one on our left. “It has lots of them.”
She looks up at me, her eyes shining.
“It’s better than nothing, right?”
She wraps her arms around my waist and tucks her head into my chest. “Yay! Thank you.”
I ask the butterfly volunteer to take a picture of us while Ace and I make funny, exaggerated poses.
“That was fun!” Ace chimes as we step past the gates of the exhibit and back into the cold March air. “Let me see.” She sticks out her hand.
I shove the phone into my pocket and take her hand instead. “Let’s go check out the other animals.”
“But—”
I poke her in the area just under her ribs, where I know she’s ticklish. She jumps.
“Heath!” She snorts. “Don’t.”
“Well then, you better run, Smalls.”
She squeals and takes off toward the penguins. She looks over her shoulder to see if I’m about to make good on my promise. I count to five before chasing after her. And just like that, we turn into five-year-olds, enjoying a day at the zoo.
Around four p.m., we finally leave the zoo, cotton candy and hot dog in hand.
“Where to?” I ask, feeling more relaxed and happy than I’ve felt in days. Having this time with Ace was all I needed.
She shrugs, but doesn’t respond as she stuffs her face, alternating between bites of hot dog and bites of cotton candy.
“That’s gross! And how much food can you pack in there?” I poke her again, noticing how bony her mid-section feels. When had she started losing weight? She used to be so toned . . .
A tint of pink colors her neck. “Whatever,” she mumbles, her voice muffled by the food in her mouth.
I throw my arm around her shoulder and tuck her into the curve of my body. She fits perfectly against me, like a puzzle piece. “And God, do I love you for being so . . . gross.”
Holding up a finger, she says, “Wait.” She swallows. “You love me because I gross you out? That’s rich.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I mean, what other girl in the school would be sooo . . .” I wave my hand trying to come up with the right word. “Natural.”
“Um, Heath.” She raises her eyebrow, and pushes her shoulder against my arm.
I don’t budge.
“I’m not sure how girls fall for your idiotic charms, but that pick-up line sucked ass.”
I laugh and help her into my Jeep. “I always save the best for you, Smalls.” I can’t keep the teasing tone out of my voice. This is the real reason Ace and I are perfect. She isn’t one for drama and takes things in stride. And best of all, she isn’t afraid to dish it right back to me.
“Whatever. That’s like telling a self-conscious girl that she looks like a pig after a shower. It’s neither a compliment to the pig, nor the girl.” She shrugs. “Just saying.” She shoves the last of the hot dog into her mouth and grins through her food.
“Very sexy,” I tease.
She rolls her hand in a bowing gesture. “Why, thank you, kind sir.”
“That’s it! From now on, you should call me sir. It has a nice ring to it,” I say, running around to the other side.
“Ha! In your dreams,” she yells as I slide into the driver’s seat.
“Now, there’s an idea!” I buckle up and pull out of zoo parking lot, heading toward Ace’s home.
“Speaking of ideas . . .”
I glance over and catch her nibbling on the inside of her left cheek.
“Do you ever wonder what you’d do, if you weren’t restricted by time, money, or embarrassment?”
The question surprises me. Simply because there’s something hidden behind it, and I can’t tell what it is. “Have you?”
“Yeah,” she says.
I want to know what she feels she can’t do now. Because every fiber in me wants to make whatever that is a reality. But before I can ask, she responds:
“Well, not so much what I’d do, no. But I’ve got a wish list.”
I turn the corner to the suburb she lives in.
“I want to take a year off and go on a road trip. Just take it day by day.” She exhales heavily.
My eyes flicker to her for a second, before they revert back to the road. We’ve talked about the future plenty of times. She’s always been so excited about the idea of going to college. I wonder what’s changed.
“I know. I know. It’s crazy to do something so spontaneous. No plans, no guidance, and then there’s the whole ‘how to survive’ thing.” She seems to be talking more to herself than me.
She fidgets with her hands and I reach for them, lacing our fingers together. She gives me a tight-lipped smile.
“There’s nothing wrong with that idea,” I assure her.
“I know, right?” Her voice suddenly lightens up. “I want to travel around the states on the longest, most scenic route possible.” She scoots her butt forward, tilting her head back against the headrest, and places her feet on the dashboard. Her orange toenails wiggle. “I think it would be fun.”
“It would.” That’d be a great way to spend a year—just Ace and me.
“It’d be awesome if you could come, but I know you have a future and plans and there’s no way—”
I press down on the brakes, bringing the Jeep to a screeching halt right before her house. I step out and help her down.
“Anyway, I don’t even know if it’s possible. I don’t want to leave Dad behind, and I only have about two thousand dollars saved up. And even if I pick up an odd job here and there, I don’t know if it’d work. But it’d be cool. Knowing my luck, I’ll probably never get to do a lot of things, like kissing in the rain, and being irrationally loved by . . .” There’s pain in her voice when she says the last part. “Not everyone gets what they wish for, right?”
“Ace.” I grab her wrist as she walks past and twirl her back into me with more force than I expect. Her body slams against mine, and my arms wrap around her waist. She looks up at me with those ridiculously beautiful gray eyes and her lips part. She lays her hands gently over my chest, grabbing a good chunk of my shirt between her fingers.
Blood rushes in my ears and my gaze dips low to her plush mouth. My heart pounds against my chest. Calm down, Heath! But with her entire body pressed into mine, it gets hard to think. I know somewhere tha
t this is my best friend, but I’m also a hot-blooded teenager, and there’s only so much control I can have.
I don’t know how long we stare at each other before I finally speak. “Say the word, and I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. No questions asked.”
She blinks, and her chest rises and falls. “You will?”
“I will,” I promise. “And I have no doubt there’s someone out there for you, just dying to meet you so he can love you like you deserve. With irrational devotion. Trust me.” That’s the complete absolute-fucking-truth.
She trembles, her eyes turning misty.
I brush the back of my hand over her cheek, and she shivers, her eyes closing. The air around us shifts. “I’ll never let you fall, Ace. If nothing else, believe in that.”
She opens her eyes. “I do.”
SUNDAY WITH THE FAMILY. Sigh.
Hudson and Harrington are sipping their drinks on the deck, while I finish threading meat onto kebab sticks getting ready to grill. Their bickering becomes louder and more obnoxious by the second—something about bear pee being the ultimate rattlesnake repellent or not.
Shaking my head, I chuckle at the ridiculousness of their fights. For as long as I can remember, they’ve been competitive with each other. It’s like they can’t breathe easy if they can’t outdo the other.
The sun shines through the trees and onto the deck. I flip my hat forward to cover my eyes from the glare.
“Come on, kiddo!” Blake says, stepping outside with a plate of veggies. “Time to get cooking.”
I place the marinated kebabs on the grill. “What do you think I’m doing right now?”
“Are you giving my wife trouble, little bro?” Hudson says as he comes up behind her. He wraps his arms around Blake’s waist and whispers in her ear. She blushes, spins around, and kisses him on the lips. I turn away.
Even after all these years, they still act like newlyweds. Their relationship gives me hope that someday, I’ll find my Blake. Maybe I already have. The only mystery that’s left in the equation is how the hell I make a move without jeopardizing everything we already have?
“Girl troubles?” Hudson asks. He hands me a beer and takes a sip out of his.
“Thanks,” I say, a bit hesitant.
Hudson is—has always been—a stickler for rules, so I’m still caught off guard any time he offers me—the underage little brother—alcohol.
“You wanna spill your guts like a girl, or is that privilege exclusive to my wife?”
I glare at Blake.
She simply shrugs. “You know I’m not good with secrets.” Then she turns to Hudson. “Besides, it’s not just any girl. It’s Carrigan.” She mouths the last word.
Seriously? How is it possible to love this woman to death, but at the same time, wish I could strangle her in her sleep? I turn the kebabs and add some seasoning. “I can still hear you, you know.”
“So, have you made any progress?” Blake asks, giving up on trying to be discreet.
“Made progress with what?” Harrington asks, walking up. “And kebabs? Whose fucking brilliant idea was that?” He points to the grill, then rubs his stomach.
Three Lovelly boys all under the same roof. Blake must be thrilled.
Harrington, the middle brother—or the child that got screwed, as he likes to call himself—is four years older than me and a future Harvard Law graduate. But, just looking at him, he could easily be mistaken for a bum on the street, or maybe a hipster, with his tattoos and black-rimmed, square glasses. He and Dad haven’t been on good terms since Hudson and Blake’s wedding. It’s like he’s taken a blood oath to irritate our father.
But, then again, I’m the last person that’d blame him. I wish I had the guts he does. I’d show Dad I’m not a pawn in his game; that I do have the ability to choose my own path—the way Hudson did. He married the girl of his dreams, defying Dad’s plan after faithfully following it to become a successful doctor and Chief of Staff at Lovelly Memorial Hospital.
“I think you should tell her,” Blake says, placing the plate of kebabs she’d collected from the grill in the center of the table. She pulls out a chair and settles into it.
“Tell who?” Harrington looks between Blake and me.
“She might do you some good, little bro.” Hudson puts his two cents in, sliding into the chair next to Blake.
“Who might do who?” Harrington asks.
I scowl. “Nobody asked you for advice.”
“Just hold on a fucking moment. What the hell is going on?” Harrington slaps his hand on the table, making the glasses rattle. Someone’s pissy today.
“I swear you three are worse than old ladies in a salon. Your need to butt into my life is beyond tolerable.” I scowl again.
“Bro.” Harrington puts up a finger. “First off, don’t ever compare this hotness to an old lady. Secondly, I can’t butt into your fucking life if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on!”
We all look at him like he’s lost his goddamn mind. Then, like dominoes, we burst into laughter. Harrington loves his gossip more than any dude should.
“You think that’s funny?” He takes a kebab from the plate, pulls a hot piece of meat from it, and throws it at me. He aims the next one at Blake. Hudson, being the protective husband he is, shields her with his body, shooting me a look that clearly says, “He’s gonna pay for that shit.”
I jump Harrington from behind, but before I can get a good grip, he spins around me and puts me in a headlock. “You think you can take me, you piece of shit?”
“Oh, I don’t think I can take you, I know I can.” I grab his arm with my left hand, holding it in place around my neck. Then, with the other, I reach around and grab the back of Harrington’s neck. Using my core muscles, I tilt forward and flip him over my shoulder. Chuckling, Hudson joins the fun, pinning Harrington down in an all-out wrestling match, while Harrington spews strings of colorful profanity. If there’s one thing we Lovelly boys are good at, it’s that we can punch, and take a punch, like men.
A loud whistle startles all of us, and we freeze in awkward positions. We turn our heads to find Blake scowling at us. “Clean up. Now.” She points to the overturned table and chairs. “Hudson, you’re supposed to be the responsible one. What do you think you’re doing?”
We unwind ourselves from our precarious positions, dusting off and rearranging our composure as well as our clothes.
Harrington makes the mistake of commenting, “Oh, someone’s getting the dog house tonight.”
Blake shoots him the glare she used to use on us when we were kids. He smiles sheepishly, looking away. I chew on the inside of my cheek to bite back a chuckle.
“We were just having some fun, babe,” Hudson says. Then he pulls her into a hug, kissing her. “A little rough-play will keep those two in check.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and gives him that glare. He lets go and starts to pick up the mess.
“Sorry, Blake,” I say, kissing her forehead.
“Brown-nosing punk,” Harrington calls.
“Shut up, scumbag.” I shove him as soon as I see Blake head inside. “Unless you want me to own your ass again?”
“Boys, I can hear you bickering,” Blake calls from inside the house.
“Damn, that woman’s got the ears of a predator.” Harrington turns to Hudson. “Do you ever get away with anything?”
Hudson chuckles proudly. “Not a chance.”
Harrington makes a face. “God, that’s disgusting. See, this . . .” He points at Hudson, but keeps his eyes locked on me. “This is why I’m never getting married.”
I laugh, because they’re the exact reason I want to get married. To find that one person that’s the yin to my yang. And all the freaking arrows are pointing to Ace being that person. She’s the calm to my temper, the light to my darkness, the balm to my emptiness.
What the hell am I going to do?
Once everything’s picked up, we realize our dinner is . . . trashed
. I guess I should have let Blake do the cooking. We all sit down around the straightened patio table, popping open another round of beer. After taking a gulp, I sigh heavily.
“That hit the spot,” Hudson says, tilting his bottle in a salute.
“Yup,” Harrington agrees, letting a little burp slip.
Blake brings out a platter of triangle-shaped sandwiches.
“After all that hard play, I bet you’re pretty hungry.” She smiles warmly, placing the plate in the center of the table.
“Thanks, babe,” Hudson says.
“Yeah,” Harrington agrees, shoving three of the sandwiches into his mouth. He chews with his eyes closed, and swallows loudly. “Damn, these are good,” he says, shoving another piece into his mouth.
She laughs and ruffles his non-existent, buzz-cut hair. “Eat up, boys. I’ll go make another batch.” She hurries back into the kitchen.
“You lucky bastard.” Harrington shoves another piece into his already stuffed mouth.
Hudson chuckles, staring lovingly in the direction his wife had disappeared into. “I took a chance and lucked out,” he says, his eyes landing on me.
“Ace is going out with someone,” I blurt.
“She is?” Hudson chokes on his beer.
I sigh. There’s really no one else I can talk to about this. No one I can trust to give me advice. They’re family. So I tell them. “I think I’m kinda okay with that, though . . .”
“Then why do you look like someone shoved shit down your throat?” Harrington asks, looking dumbfounded.
“Shut up, Harry,” I snap, knowing he hates that nickname.
“What did I miss?” Blake asks, coming back with another tray of sandwiches and setting it down in the middle of the table.
My appetite fades and a hollow pit takes its place.
“We’re talking about Ace and how she’s dating another guy, and Heath here is okay with that.” Hudson fills in the gaps for Blake.
“Are you out of your mind?” She stares at me, disapprovingly.
