“Um… uh huh.”
Words, Harlow! Say words, for the love of God!
He was probably standing there thinking I was a freak of nature. Noah Murphy went out of his way to come over and say hi, and I was screwing it all to hell. I might as well have just mimed my way through the whole interaction. It couldn’t have possibly been any worse.
To my dismay, he didn’t run off in the opposite direction. His little grin turned into a full-blown smile, causing my knees to tremble. I had to lean against the lockers for support. I had already made a big enough fool out of myself, I’d be damned if I collapsed to the floor while he was standing right in front of me.
“I’m Noah. We’re in the same Geometry class, right?”
Dear sweet baby Jesus, Harlow, use words this time. Do not nod your head like a moron!
“Yeah!” I answered a little too enthusiastically. “I mean, uh, yeah. I think we do. I guess. I’m not really sure.”
I wanted to die. I wanted a hole to open up in the floor and swallow me whole. I would have given anything at that very moment for one of those ugly DeLorean’s just so I could go back in time and have a do-over.
“Cool,” he grinned. “Be sure to sit by me in class today.”
Outwardly, I schooled my features as best as I could, but inside I was jumping up and down, squealing like a twelve -year old at a Justin Timberlake concert. I shrugged one shoulder and tried to come off as nonchalant as possible. “Yeah. Sure. I can do that, I guess.”
He took a step closer. His scent invaded my senses and I promised myself right then that I was going to the mall after school to try and find whatever cologne he was wearing, and I didn’t care how weird that made me. “Awesome.” He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear causing my entire body to break out in goose bumps. “See you later, wildflower.”
With that, he turned and walked away, his stride confident and self-assured. He gave me a nickname. Noah Murphy… the hottest guy in school gave me a nickname and told me to sit by him in class! No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t contain my excitement as my inner twelve-year-old girl emerged dancing and squealing out in the open for everyone to see.
That was how my best friend, Chloe, found me. “Please tell me you’re having a seizure or something. Because if not, I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”
“Noah Murphy just asked me to sit by him in Geometry!” I squeaked. “And he called me wildflower!”
“No way,” she breathed, her eyes going wide. Chloe understood as well as anybody how important it was for Noah Murphy to talk to you. Every girl in Pembrooke High School wanted to date him. And he asked me to sit next to him in class.
That. Was. Epic!
“That’s so awesome!” Chloe declared, grabbing my hands and joining me in my squeal-fest like any good best friend should. Suddenly she stopped jumping up and down and sucked in a sharp gasp before flailing her arms around in front of her. “Ohmigod. I bet he’s gonna ask you out!”
My heart rate picked up as images of Noah taking me on my very first date flooded my head. “You think so?”
“Totally! You two would be so cute together! You better say yes!”
If Chloe was right and he did ask me out on a date there was no way in hell I’d say no. Noah Murphy was the first boy to ever spark my interest. The three years I’d lived in Pembrooke consisted of going to school, helping Grammy raise Ethan, and missing my parents terribly.
Neither of us could have known it at the time, but it was in that moment that Noah Murphy had just become someone very important in my life.
With an agitated growl, I sent the pen in my hand sailing through the air and straight into my brother’s chest.
“Well, I see someone’s all sunshine and unicorns this morning,” he said, his sleep-gruff voice full of humor as he wiped at the ink smudge on his t-shirt. As if being frustrated with the current upheaval of my life wasn’t already enough, I was also exhausted. It was as though memories of Noah were haunting me every single second of the day since moving back from New York. If I wasn’t awake and thinking about him, I was asleep and dreaming about him. After trying my hardest not to think about him for the past five years, the asshole was now invading every available inch of headspace.
“Shut it, turd breath,” I grumbled back as I crumpled up the newspaper on the table in front of me and stood to throw it in the trash. Scanning the help wanted ads in our miniscule town every day for the past week and a half was doing nothing but putting me in a funk. After my friends had packed up and headed back to New York, I told myself I wasn’t going to get depressed at the thought of them leaving me behind. I threw myself into getting situated in Pembrooke.
Navie had helped by packing up all my belongings when she got back home and shipping everything to me. I got my room squared away and felt a little more settled once I was surrounded by my things, but it wasn’t enough. Grammy’s life insurance, along with what Ethan and I received after our parents died, was enough to keep the bills paid and food in the fridge and pantry, making sure there was enough to get us by for a few months while I job hunted. It wasn’t that we were hurting for money. The problem was I needed something to do. I was going stir-crazy sitting in this house day after day.
Ethan had a life of his own. Even though the school was out for Thanksgiving, and the football season was over, he still managed to have a schedule so full it kept him out of the house most days. If I didn’t find a job soon I was going to lose my mind.
The problem was, Pembrooke—or Jackson Hole for that matter—wasn’t necessarily the epicenter of the fashion world. Back in New York, I’d worked as an executive assistant for a clothing franchise. It had been a world away from what I wanted to be when I started college. I’d had dreams of becoming a fashion photographer when I was younger. I was going to be the next Annie Leibovits. Unfortunately, photographers were a dime-a-dozen in the city, and dreams and wishes didn’t pay bills.
I hated being an assistant, and I certainly didn’t miss anything about my job. But at least it was something. And with that being the only job on my resume, I was embarrassingly underqualified for the only available assistant positions in the surrounding area.
Who’d have thought a law firm or doctor’s office wouldn’t consider being able to sort blouses by season and making the quickest coffee runs to be marketable skills?
“And I thought you were supposed to be the mature one.”
“I am mature. I’m just sick of being stuck in this house with nothing to do. I need a job. And don’t piss me off. I’m still mad at you.”
“Me?” Ethan asked in confusion. “What’d I do?”
“I can’t believe you never told me Noah was your coach.”
Ethan laughed as he made his way to the coffee maker, a sarcastic grunt emanating from his chest. “Why’s that so hard to believe? It’s not like we ever talked about anything serious the few times you’ve come home over the years. And I always got the sense talking about him was off limits anyway.”
I could hear the hurt in his voice, even though he tried to mask it with sarcasm. God, I was a shitty sister. I never stopped to think that Ethan would notice that I hardly ever came home. I was so wrapped up in my own life that I ignored what was left behind.
“I’m sorry, Ethan,” I whispered, my eyes trained on the ground.
“For what?”
“For letting you down.”
I felt his arm loop around my shoulder and I lifted my eyes to him. “You didn’t let me down, Low-Low. I got it. Yeah, it sucked you weren’t here and I missed you like crazy, but you’re here now, right?”
“Right.” I grinned as he dropped his arm and moved back to the coffee maker, filling his mug before dumping a heaping spoonful of sugar into the dark liquid. I scrunched my nose in distaste at his blatant disregard for the beloved coffee bean. He just ruined a perfectly good cup of coffee. “Wait… aren’t you too young to be drinking coffee?”
“Need it to stay awake.” He sh
rugged casually, taking a large gulp. “Coach wants us at the gym every morning during break. He said we have to keep our endurance up, even during off-season or he’ll kick our asses next year if he catches us slacking.”
“You’re only fourteen, Ethan. You’re too young to be putting all your focus on just one thing.” The idea that Noah could be pushing the kids—especially my brother—too hard didn’t sit right with me. Weren’t teenagers supposed to spend their breaks sleeping until noon and eating crap food? So far, all I’d seen Ethan do was work out, run, and hang with his football friends. Even though the season was over, Ethan still ate, breathed, and slept all things football. I remembered Noah being the same way in high school and the thought of my brother even turning into one tenth of what Noah Murphy had been back then, twisted my stomach into knots.
“Yeah, but I’m the only freshman on the varsity team, too. I have more to prove than the other guys.”
“Noah shouldn’t be putting so much pressure on you,” I remarked, bitterness coating my words. “Just because he was a football God back in high school doesn’t mean he has the right to push those same expectations onto other kids,” I ranted, losing myself in my anger that Noah could possibly be trying to turn Ethan into a version of what he was. “If I have to kick his ass to prove my point, I will. But—”
“Whoa,” Ethan chuckled, pulling me back down into reality. “It’s not like that, Low-Low. Coach isn’t pushing any of us more than any coach would.” He went silent for several seconds as he stared at me, his young eyes studying as though he were trying to figure out the answer to an impossible math question. “Look, I know I was young when things went down with you guys—”
“You’re still young,” I interrupted.
“Whatever. You know what I mean,” he grumbled good naturedly with a roll of his eyes. “What did happened between you guys? I mean, first you’re like, all in love and stuff, and getting married, and the next thing I know, you’re going to college all the way in New York, and Grammy’s telling me you’re getting divorced but won’t tell me why.”
I wasn’t sure the right way to answer that question. There was a part of me who wanted to confide in my brother as any sister would. But then there was the side that kept telling me he was only fourteen. I was the adult and it was now my job to make sure he kept hold of his childhood as long as possible. In the end, all I could come up with was, “It’s nothing you need to worry about, okay? Sometimes things just don’t work out. That’s all.”
“Yeah, but you hate him. And he’s my coach, Low-Low. You get this is kinda weird for me, right? I feel like I’m stuck in the middle here.”
“I don’t hate Noah,” I answered candidly, because the truth was, I didn’t. My heart hurt. I was angry at him… God, was I so damn angry. Seeing him was more difficult than I ever could have imagined, but I didn’t hate him. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. And honestly, part of me wished I could. It definitely would have made things easier.
I refilled my own coffee mug before resting my hip on the counter next to him. “All I’m saying is football isn’t everything, you know?”
“I know football isn’t everything,” Ethan said after draining the last of his coffee and placing the empty mug in the sink. “Kate Upton’s boobs are everything. But until Kate realizes her undying love for me, I have to kill time somehow.”
I choked on the sip I’d just taken, scalding hot coffee coming out of my nose. My eyes watered uncontrollably as I reached out and swatted a laughing Ethan in the back of the head. “Oh God, gross! I think the worst thing to ever happen was you hitting puberty. Never, ever talk about another woman’s boobs in front of me. In fact, don’t talk about sex. Period. As far as I’m concerned you have absolutely no clue about any of it. Ignorance is bliss. And while we’re at it, to let me stay in my bubble of oblivion, you’ll be doing all your own laundry.”
Ethan stopped pealing the banana in his hand to fall forward in laughter. I didn’t understand what he found so amusing. I was perfectly content spending the rest of my life pretending he was a virgin.
“You know, if you’re interested in finding a job, the photography teacher at school went on maternity leave a few months ago, and we found out just before break that she wasn’t going to come back. You’re still into all that photography stuff, right? Maybe you should email the principal about it.”
“Are you kidding me?” I responded excitedly as I wrapped him in an enthusiastic hug. “Ethan, you’re a genius! Who knew your brain still worked underneath all that testosterone!”
“Very funny, Low-Low,” he mumbled as he pulled out of my hold just as I went to give him a noogie. He managed to get his hair back in order just as a car horn honked outside our house. “That’s Kyle. Gotta go.” Leaning in, he gave me a quick peck on the cheek before heading out to greet one of his teammates.
Being the supportive big sister I was, I followed him and stood just inside the open door as Ethan pulled the passenger door of Kyle’s truck open. “Be good, baby bro!” I yelled at the top of my lungs from the doorway, waving like a maniac. “I love you! Have a great day!”
The car door slammed and I could see Ethan’s face, beet red from embarrassment as Kyle fell forward against the steering wheel, his howl of laughter echoing from the truck’s cab.
And my work was done.
It was official. I was going straight to hell.
There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. My ass was gonna fry.
But I had a plan. It was time to commence Operation Get-Harlow-Back.
The circumstances surrounding her return were heartbreaking, and I hated thinking that she was in pain at the loss of Lucille. But that didn’t stop me from lying in bed at night, trying to come up with a perfectly logical excuse to run into her once or five times every day.
I just hadn’t managed to find my in yet. But as the guys began filing into the weight room, it was as if a light bulb went off in my head. The plan to kick-off my special op was genius, really. I just had to figure out the most delicate way to approach the subject.
The boys got down to their workouts with minimal bitching and whining, and I was able to get in a few reps here and there in between trying to keep the chaos organized. It was when I finally reached the bench press that brilliance struck.
“Prewitt!” I hollered over the thrum of voices that echoed through the weight room.
Ethan turned from where he was standing by the free weights with a few of the other players. “Yeah, Coach?”
“I need a spot. Can you cover me?”
He jogged over and took his spot at the head of the bench while I laid back and gripped the bar over my head. I pushed it off the rack on an exhale and paused before lowering to my chest and back up. Ethan’s eyes—the exact same unique hazel color as Harlow’s—stayed diligently trained on the bar as it raised and lowered.
“So,” I started on a grunt. “How’ve you been? You’ve had a lot going on lately.”
He gave me a small shrug before helping me re-rack the bar. I sat up and turned to look at him. “I’m good, honestly. I mean, it sucks that Gram’s gone, but I’m okay. At least Harlow’s back, right?”
And there was my in.
“Yeah, you’re right.” I laid back down and started on my second set. “How is she, by the way?”
“Harlow?”
I breathed through my nose and offered an, “Uh huh.” I began to feel that familiar burn in my arms and chest, relishing the slight sting of a good workout. There were very few things I enjoyed on this planet more than pushing myself to my limit and surpassing that expectation. Football used to be one of them. So was Harlow.
Both of those things were gone now. But I couldn’t help but think that maybe I was getting a second chance at one of them.
“She’s good. I mean, all things considering. Going a little crazy if you ask me.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked as I rested before my third set.
Another shrug. “She kind
a lost her shit this morning. Said she’s going stir crazy, or something. She wants to get a job to get her out of the house. I told her about the photography teacher’s position here, so she might apply for it. Who knows?”
Sure, digging for information about my ex from her fourteen-year-old brother could be viewed as fucked up in some people’s eyes, but I had to take what I could get. I hadn’t gotten shit in almost six years. I was feeling a little desperate.
I knew the moment Harlow left that she and Lucille had kept the whole truth about what happened between us from Ethan, only telling him what they felt he needed to know, so if he was the only ally I had in getting her back, I wasn’t holding back any punches.
I laid back and started my last set, trying my hardest to sound casual. Even though my pounding heart and prickling skin had shit-all to do with working out. “You think she’s interested?”
Another shrug. “I dunno.”
Jesus. Did kids now a days do anything other than shrug? Two years of working at a high school made me cringe at the thought that I’d ever been anything like some of the little shits I had to deal with on a daily basis.
I finished my last set and racked the bar. Standing up, I wiped my damp forehead on the sleeve of my t-shirt. “Well,” I pressed, “did she seem to like the idea when you mentioned it?”
By the way his eyes narrowed skeptically and his head tilted to the side—just like his damn sister’s used to always do when she thought she had one up on me—I knew I’d pushed too far. Damn it.
His voice was heavy with exasperation when he spoke. “Dude, are you seriously trying to grill me for info on my sister?”
Yes.
“No,” I scoffed.
One part of my brain said ah hell, be cool, Murphy, while the other shouted, Divert! Divert! I went with the second option.
“And don’t call me dude. You talk to every adult with respect. You got me?”
I breathed a minuscule sigh of relief when his expression shifted and he mumbled, “Yes, sir.”
That was another thing kids seemed to do all the damn time. Fucking mumble. Shrugging and mumbling, that’s all anyone between the ages of thirteen and eighteen did anymore. How my players got any dates was beyond me.
Wildflower (Colors #4) Page 3
