by Laura Burton
My nose throbs on the impact, but I’d rather be hit by Wyatt’s warm pectorals than Leila’s heavy front doors.
My ears ring, but I can just make out the sound of a ruckus. I turn around. Wyatt still has his arms wrapped around me, as if to shield me from danger.
“Leila! Tell Blaze to stop! He’s hurting poor Gary!”
Chessy squeals, clutching her face in horror as Gary tumbles down the steps. Blaze stomps after him, his shoulders rounded and fists clenched. Leila stands beside Chessy, looking at Blaze with a glint in her eye.
“No,” she says simply.
“Now, get off my property, before I send the dogs on you,” Blaze roars like a lion.
Wyatt’s fingers flex and he squeezes my arms, but stays silent. I wonder if he’s jealous he didn’t get to Gary first?
I don’t care. Being held in his arms is so much better than watching him pummel some dweeb to the ground.
Gary stumbles backward and straightens out his shirt, his jaw jutting out and one of his cheekbones swelling up. If he were bald, he’d kind of remind me of Popeye now.
Chessy wails dramatically. “I’m so sorry, Gary! I’m so sorry!” She tries to run after him but Leila grabs her by the arms. Several guests start milling out of the doors to watch the commotion.
But before the drama can get really exciting, and while I’m getting super comfortable in Wyatt’s arms, Gary stalks off down the road. Chessy cries out for him, but he raises a hand and shouts, “It’s over, baby! I got more than I needed.”
There’s a collective exhale as everyone watches Gary disappear into the distance. Then Chessy lets out a little hiccup that breaks the spell and Leila turns to the rest of the guests.
“Back into the garden, everyone!” The guests mumble to each other as they take the steps and make a beeline for their cars instead.
“Come on, guys, there’s no need to leave!” Blaze says, spreading his arms and tilting his head like he’s John Travolta. “I’m just about to take the brisket out of the smoker.”
Wyatt hums and it vibrates my body as I’m still pressed up to him. “I like brisket.”
Within minutes, the entire party has vacated the property. Meanwhile, Chessy runs back into the house. Leila follows her, but halts by the door and smiles serenely at Wyatt. “I hope you will stay, Wyatt. It turns out we have much more food than we need.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Wyatt says, slowly letting me go. “I won’t say no to food, that’s for sure.”
“Great.” Blaze approaches Wyatt as we break apart and places a huge hand on his shoulder. Surprisingly, Wyatt doesn’t buckle under the weight, but stands firm and strong, like an equal. “I’ve got a job for you.”
Blaze gives me a cheerful grin. “You don’t mind me borrowing your boyfriend for an hour, do you?”
I shake my head, my brain scrambling over the word “boyfriend.” Wyatt doesn’t argue against the title and that confuses me even more.
“Go ahead.”
Wyatt follows Blaze round the side of the house and I turn to Leila, who’s giving me a death stare. “What?” I ask.
She pinches her brows at me. “It’s time we have an intervention with Chessy.”
I groan.
This is something Leila and I have been talking about for years. But now the time has finally come––I definitely can’t argue with that––I’m less than enthused.
So much for having my first kiss with Wyatt.
I follow Leila into the house. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Chapter Seventeen
Wyatt
Blaze Hopkins is a beast. He swaggers to the edge of a forest, leading me to a line of old oak trees, then stops by a chopping block with a huge axe propped up against it.
If this was a fairytale, Blaze would be a huntsman by day and an alpha wolf by night. I’ve seen him in all the big Hollywood movies, and a part of me is struggling to grasp the fact that I’m meeting the famous actor in person.
Lucy turned away for a moment to talk to her sisters, and Blaze decided this was the perfect opportunity for some “male bonding time.”
I should have known he would choose an activity like chopping wood for said bonding. Luckily, I grew up with a dad who loves the outdoors. He taught me to chop wood in my teens. Unfortunately, it’s been about that long since I actually chopped wood.
My body doesn’t hesitate to remind me how long it’s been since I’ve done anything with this much exertion. Three swings and sweat is clinging to my temples. I pause to pull my shirt over my head.
The cool evening air whips my skin, and a rush of wind from inside the trees ruffles my hair. I take a deep breath, inhaling the crisp scent of pine cones and dewy grass. Then I look at Blaze, who gives me a grin before he sets to work on a log.
I’m not a skinny guy. I make sure to bench press three times a week, and I’m no stranger to a protein shake. But next to Blaze, I look weak.
His biceps bulge as he grabs a split log and rips it apart. He makes it look easy, like he’s tearing a piece of bread in two.
The smell of the man’s sweat is overpowering, like spice and wood. I have to take several steps back to stop myself from blacking out.
“So, Wyatt. Tell me what your intentions are with Lucy,” Blaze asks, as he steps back and swings the axe. It lands with a mighty thud and the log chops clean in two.
I understand what he’s doing now. Blaze has brought me outside to play the role of big brother. An irrational part of my mind pictures my neck on the chopping block and him swinging down if he doesn’t like one of my answers. I almost chuckle.
For some reason, I’m not intimidated. I guess it’s more of a relief to know that Lucy is surrounded by such a great family; these are people who look out for each other. It gives me flashbacks of my own folks and the townspeople in Snowdrop Valley.
“I have good intentions,” I say, trying to keep my expression neutral. I want to smile, but I also don’t want to make light of the situation. Just because I’m not intimidated by the idea of Blaze looking out for Lucy, does not mean I’m keen on riling this guy up. I would probably put up a good fight, but this man will still beat me hands down.
Blaze picks up another log and sets it on the chopping block. Then he hands me the axe.
I take it with both hands, and roll my shoulders back.
“I enjoy spending time with her,” I add, sensing that the first response was not enough. Blaze hums so deep, it sounds like a growl.
“She’s a great person. Kind, funny, caring…”
I nod along as he checks off the qualities. “I know. I think she’s amazing.” With a puff, I throw the axe down and it almost entirely splits the log. Blaze hums again.
“Amazing?”
He crosses his bulky arms across his broad chest. “Tell me about yourself.”
I give Blaze the highlights.
I grew up in a small-town. My parents are crazy, creative, and love the community. They raised me to have high morals. I’ve got one best friend, who’s been my best bud since childhood, and I own several businesses.
“Here’s a question,” Blaze says, scratching his chin and studying me like I’m a piece of art in a gallery that he hasn’t decided what to think of, yet. “And don’t laugh, because this is a serious question.”
I put the axe down and pat down my pant legs. “All right.”
Blaze leans forward and lowers his voice. “Are you a fan of The Lord of the Rings?”
I smirk, surprised by the question. My smile drops at the intensity of Blaze’s stare. I clear my throat.
“Huge fan. Read the books, watched the movies. And between you and me…” It’s my turn to lean forward now. “The reason I plucked up the courage to speak to Lucy was because of her bag.”
Blaze looks back at me like I’m a crazy person. He’s clearly not following.
“The one with the dragon on it, from The Hobbit,” I explain.
Blaze narrows his eyes at me for a second, l
ike he’s a human lie detector.
I must have passed the test because he stands back and his face breaks out into a smile.
“You’re a good man, Wyatt.”
I exhale with relief and Blaze picks up the log I just cut. “But if you hurt Lucy…” He tears the log apart with a mighty grunt and sprays me with spit. “Have I made myself clear?”
I wipe my face, resisting the look of repulsion that’s pulling at my features. “Crystal,” I say.
Blaze grins like a maniac. “I think that’s enough wood, how about we make a little wager?”
Chapter Eighteen
Lucy
Leila and I find Chessy perched on the edge of a bed in one of the spare rooms. Her tears have wet her navy blue dress and she’s holding a champagne glass loosely in one hand. The bubbly is wobbling precariously close to the rim, threatening to splash over onto the cream colored carpet at any moment.
Leila and I take our positions, standing side by side, with our hands clasped out in front. I expect we look more like prison guards than loving big sisters at the moment.
Leila’s eye twitches as she watches the glass. It’ll only be a matter of time before she launches for it. “Chessy, it’s time we have a little chat,” she says.
Chessy looks up, as though she’s seeing us for the first time.
“What?”
Leila and I have had this conversation planned for so long, I know the speech Leila is about to give by heart.
But my baby sister looks so broken right now, I have to reconsider our approach.
If I had to have an intervention, I wouldn’t want it to be dragged out with a “First can we begin by saying how much we love you…” opening. I’d want the bottom line. Immediately.
Like ripping off a band aid. Just do it. Fast.
I suck in a breath and touch Leila’s arm to stop her. She shoots me a look. But I ignore her and turn back to Chessy.
“You have terrible taste in men.”
The words sound far harsher, now I’ve said them aloud, than they sounded inside my head. Chessy looks at me with a mixture of sadness and respect. She knows I’m just trying to help. Leila couldn’t get away with being so direct. My sisters know me for my bluntness. It is expected of me. But Leila and Chessy are sweet, kind people who tiptoe around other people’s feelings.
Which is great. But today, Chessy needs some honest talk.
I join Chessy on the bed, and wonder whether to pat her on the back, or offer her a tissue. Undecided, I start stimming just so I can do something with the nervous energy in my hands.
Chessy sniffs and more tears leak out of her eyes.
I can’t handle it, even when it’s my own sister showing emotion.
Once again, I don’t know where to look or what to do. I just want the crying to stop. It’s jarring and makes me crazy uncomfortable.
Which is weird, because I have no issues wailing and crying in front of other people. At least, in front of my people.
“You’ve got to stop falling for guys the minute you meet them.”
Chessy rests a hand over her heart and looks at me imploringly. “I can’t help it. I only see the good in people.”
That’s true. Chessy is totally the princess that would fall in love with the beast. Even if he did horrific acts, like lock her up in a dungeon and almost kill her father.
She’s the one who’ll take a bad boy and try to “save” him. It’s a quality I admire, but one that makes her so vulnerable, I want to wrap her up in cotton wool and hide her in my gaming room.
Speaking of gaming, it’s been three days since my last gaming session and my fingers are getting twitchy. Oh, what I’d give to be having this conversation while I play several rounds of Fortnite. Chessy can cry all she wants and talk until sunrise.
Leila joins us on the bed and carefully takes the glass out of Chessy’s hand, then strokes her hair in a motherly way. She’s always had to be the mother hen. Our real mom didn’t want anything to do with us. Not since Dad died. She did the basics to keep us alive, but she was never really there. No warmth or eye contact. It was like being raised by a vegetarian zombie.
So Leila took up the job. She was the one who shushed Chessy to sleep whenever she woke up screaming from a nightmare. She bought me noise cancelling headphones so I could go to prom. And no matter what Chessy or I did, her love has always been unconditional.
“We love that about you, Chessy,” Leila says, keeping her voice soft. “But you need to be a little more careful. I mean, look at Gary!”
She doesn’t need to explain what she means by that. Chessy looks at the floor with a sigh and a snotty sniff. “I’m so sorry, Leila, I would never have brought him here if I knew...”
“If you knew him. Exactly! Look, I’m not going to pretend I know all about guys and relationships, or whatever. I don’t. But I do know that it’s a dangerous world and not everyone’s heart is as pure as yours.”
I’ve had to learn the hard way, and though my sisters often call me naive and too-trusting, I do adapt after painful experiences. Chessy, meanwhile, does not learn.
Chessy frowns at me, her bottom lip sticking out, and I’m reminded of one time during the summer, back when she was still a toddler with big brown curls. She was holding a popsicle in the raging sunshine, licking at it occasionally and making little squeals of delight, but she couldn’t eat it fast enough. Pretty soon, the rapidly melting mess fell on to her jelly shoes and covered her feet in sticky red slime. She looked down at herself and back up at me with the same angry frown she’s wearing now.
“I’m not some delicate flower you have to protect,” she says.
Leila nods. “Right, right. We know that. And my gosh, you have helped us both in ways we can never repay you. I mean, all the fashion advice, the pep talks… You’re our little ray of sunshine.”
Chessy stands. “I’m not little anymore.”
Leila and I exchange looks. The intervention isn’t going as well as we had hoped.
But what did we really expect? Chessy crying on Leila’s shoulder, while I recited meaningful life quotes? And then Chessy thanking us both for being such caring older sisters?
Even in my head, it’s a fantasy. Does an intervention ever go well?
“I made a mistake with Gary, I’ll give you that,” she starts, now doing laps around the rug. “I was nervous about meeting Wyatt, and when I lost my wallet, I panicked. My knight in shining armor turned out to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing this time. But I’ll never turn cynical. I will always look for the good in people. I would rather have my heart broken a thousand times because I believe in the wrong people, than live my life skeptical and resentful––like you two!”
Leila and I stiffen.
“Now come on, that’s a bit…” I start to say, but Chessy is on the warpath, her eyes flashing dangerously.
“You are lying to your boyfriend; he doesn’t even know who you are! And you’re using him to write a stupid article teaching women how to be manipulative.”
I lean back. She turns to Leila, who stares at her in horror. Probably making frantic mental guesses at what she could have done wrong.
“You were in love with a guy you never even met! And then you changed everything about yourself just to get his approval. Do you think any of us buy the good wife act?”
Leila opens and closes her mouth like a fish out of water. “I haven’t changed…” She looks at me for back up, but I can’t argue. I’ve heard the term 'keeping up with the Joneses’ but I never really got it until Leila started to act like the Queen of England.
Leila shakes her head. “Stop making this about us. We are talking about you, Chessy, and how we can help you make better choices in men and stay safe.”
Chessy throws her head back with a laugh. “You two? Help me? That’s rich.” She ups her pace to the point that I swear she’s going to wear a hole in the carpet. “I’ve been stuck in the same lousy job, working as a teaching assistant in this stinky town, just so I
can stay close to my sisters. And you think it’s because I rely on you both? Well, you’ve got it totally upside down.”
Leila raises a hand, but Chessy continues. “It’s always Chessy help me with this, Chessy help me with that. I don’t know what to wear to impress a guy. This guy humiliated me... and boo-hoo-hoo.” She stops and looks at us with such ferocity, it’s almost scary. Almost. “When have either of you ever called me up just to ask how I’m doing?”
Leila and I glance at each other again.
“That’s not fair,” Leila states. “We’re sisters. We talk on the phone every day. You’re always telling us your problems without giving us a chance to ask.”
I stand up, unable to sit still with all the nervous energy pumping through my veins. I’m still reeling from her attack on me. “If you disapprove of what I do so much, why do you spend all that money on gossip magazines each week?”
The question lands on Chessy like a slap. She walks up to me until her face hovers inches from mine and her breath warms my cheeks.
“Just because I like sausages, doesn’t mean I want to see how one’s made!”
I squint at her, confused. “What on earth has this got to do with sausages?”
And if Chessy doesn’t feel comfortable knowing how a sausage is made, then she should seriously reconsider eating meat. I’m about to voice the point, but Leila lets out a heavy sigh.
“I hate fighting with you two.”
This is fighting? No. This is bickering at best. What Blaze did to Gary was fighting.
But I keep my mouth shut as Leila wraps us up into a group hug.
“The bottom line is we love each other, we all have issues, and we forgive each other. So let’s do that last part, right now.”
She says it with a note of finality. The big sister has spoken and that is that. Neither Chessy nor I argue. We put our foreheads together like we used to do when we were younger.
Just then, we hear something between a shout and a roar from outside. Chessy wipes under her eyes and sniffs again, while I follow Leila to the door. “Leila,” I say. “That story about the wedding set up… that was true, right?”
