“Get out of my way.”
“Look,” he said calmly, “I know why you’re upset. Your brother—”
“You don’t know a damn thing about my brother; you never met him!” I screamed, pointing my finger. “Don’t you dare wave my past at me like some kind of party trick that’s going to make me vulnerable so you can try to smooth things over. You lied to me, cheated on me, and had sex in my car!”
“Dammit, Lexi, I’ll buy you a new fucking car if that’s the deal.”
A hard sigh flew out of my mouth and I walked around him. He grabbed my arm and I shoved him away. “Let go,” I said, fuming. “I’m warning you, Beckett. You do not want to mess with me tonight.”
His jaw clenched and he surrendered, holding up his hands. “Fine. But we’re going to talk,” he said slowly, meaningfully, in a way that said we both knew this wasn’t over.
“Fine,” I lied. It wasn’t fine, and we were
definitely
over.
April lingered by the door, cupping her elbows with a wistful look in her eyes that expressed her desire for a man who would tear up his prized vehicle to stop her from running away. She didn’t mind about the cheating part and had once declared that no man could be faithful to just one woman. I wasn’t having much luck disproving her theory, but I wanted to believe integrity and honor existed. Her acceptance of that lie would only make her a doormat for love. Never expect anything less than devotion from someone who has claim on your heart.
That’s why I cut Beckett off like a malignant mole.
The key slid in the lock and the cheap vinyl creaked when I sat on it. I glanced in the rearview mirror at the back seat and shuddered. Memories infiltrated my mind like a plague and I throttled the engine, threw her into gear, and eased up on the clutch.
The car lurched and died.
God, the embarrassment. I could see Beckett laughing in the mirror and I flicked a hot gaze at him. After two years, I still fought with that stupid clutch. Beckett had bought the car as a surprise and I’d had no say-so in selecting it. We’d argued for a week while he tried to teach me to drive a standard.
“I hate you,” I grumbled, finally speeding away.
I didn’t know if that was true or not, but I’d never get over what he did to me. Not when memories of him holding me at night and telling me there was no other girl were still fresh on my mind. Women flirted with him all the time at the bar because he was the bouncer with all the muscles. But when I was there, he only had eyes for me.
Apparently, his dick had eyes for someone else.
When I showed up at my mom’s house the next morning, it felt like the funeral all over again.
The yellow sun glimmered off the black mailboxes, and a light breeze knocked some of the hot pink blooms off the crepe myrtle trees. It created the fantasy of a summer snowfall, and I stood on the cracked sidewalk staring at the front yard, remembering the tire swing that used to hang from the oak tree on the right side of the lawn. Wes had loved spinning me around on that thing until I got dizzy. Sometimes I could still hear his laugh.
The door swung open and little Maizy came dashing out of the house in a bright yellow dress that was three shades darker than her hair. “Lexi! Lexi!”
As soon as she made it to me, her exuberant face tightened with all kinds of excitement. Her blue eyes widened with anticipation when she saw my right arm curved behind my back.
I bent over and whispered in her ear, “Don’t tell Mom.” As soon as I brought my hand around, she grabbed the bag of assorted candy, giggled, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and stuffed it inside the top of her dress. I snorted, following close behind as she ran back inside.
Maizy was the result of my brother’s passing. Sometimes good things come out of tragic events, and she reminded us of that every day. I’d never seen a child so full of life and happiness as my Maze. Our parents weren’t very sprightly to be dealing with a new baby, but they’d had Weston when mom was sixteen, so they weren’t
that
old. The pregnancy came not long after his death, and Mom called Maizy her little miracle baby because five months later, she had a medical scare and underwent a hysterectomy.
“Mom,” I called out, “I’m here.”
“Yes, I just saw my well-endowed six-year-old dash into her bedroom and thought as much,” she said, coming out of the kitchen. “I’m going to assume that’s a bag of candy tucked in her dress and not an early growth spurt.”
She was wearing a dark blue dress with a black belt and a silver necklace I gave her two years ago on her birthday. Mom had been lightening her shoulder-length hair since it started going grey and put it in rollers at night so it would hold a curl. We were close to the same height but looked nothing alike. I hadn’t inherited her generous cup size or her Montana-blue eyes.
“You really need to stop bringing that girl candy. I’m too old to be chasing after her when she’s all sugared up.”
I kissed her cheek and breezed into the kitchen. “Oh come on, Mom. She
just
turned six. Who else is going to spoil her if not her big sis?”
Her kitchen had pale blue tile on the floor and a matching backsplash behind the sink. The cabinets were red oak and lined the wall above the counter all the way to the window on the left. Mom loved blue and the kitchen looked like a bluebird’s nest. Tiny vines branched out across the wallpaper like an enchanted forest, but everything else was accented in blue, including the knitted toaster cover she’d bought at a craft fair. I reached in the fridge and grabbed a bottle of cold water.
“Lexi, it’s just going to be us today.”
I stared at the counter. “Why?”
“Your grandparents put their foot down.” Mom sighed deeply, painfully. “I had a long talk with your grandma and she said it’s too difficult and they don’t want to relive this every year.”
I whirled around. “Relive the fact they had a grandson?” I said in a hurt voice.
She calmly placed her hands on my shoulders. The dinner had become a tradition, although I was usually upset by the end of the party.
“
We’re
his family, Lexi. That’s all that matters. If your father were here, he might have agreed with them. I called off the dinner, so no one will be coming. It’s just going to be a quiet day with us three girls.”
I should have been happy because dinner always consisted of a few aunts and uncles, not to mention dysfunctional cousins I saw only at funerals or weddings, and several neighbors my parents had known for years. My biggest complaint was that no one talked about Weston at the party. It was just a casual get-together and then a sorrowful “damn shame that happened” goodbye at the door. Now it felt like this was evidence that no one really cared about remembering him but us.
Which was a lie. At some point, people had to move on from grief and tragedy. I knew this, and yet I struggled more than anyone with accepting his death. Over the years, my mom had acquired a coping mechanism I just didn’t have when it came to Wes. He’d been more than a brother—he’d been my protector, my friend, and someone who would be there for me long after our parents left this earth. Wes and I had been as close as siblings could be. I’d confided to him that he was going to walk me down the aisle because our dad would probably pick his butt and then give some embarrassingly long speech about how I’d never amount to anything but a barefoot and pregnant wife. Dad had never been the most encouraging man, and maybe that’s why Wes took over that role in looking out for me.
Three years after Wes died, my dad left us. All of us, including Maizy—who would never grow up with a father. Maybe it was for the better, all things considered, but it stung. Mom was in constant denial, and it showed in the way she talked about him like he was deceased and not living in Florida. At least, that’s where we last heard he was. I tried thirty-six times to contact him via phone and mail, but never got through.
Sometimes I wondered if Wes would have liked the idea that Dad split. I should have been upset, but we girls made a great team. Mom was much too young to retire, so she held a part-time job in order to take care of Maizy. I’d helped as often as I could in the beginning because daycare was too expensive. Now that Maizy was in school, life was a little easier.
Aside from our family tragedies, we led normal lives. I talked to Wes in my head a lot and didn’t pine over his death, except on
this
day, because it had always been made into a big production. It was the only time I visited his grave, because seeing it made his absence too real.
Maizy’s white shoes clicked on the blue tile and I lifted her up onto the cabinet, twirling my fingers in her blond hair. It wasn’t bright like April’s—more like the color of sunshine smeared across the floor at sunrise.
“You look
garjus
today. Like a little diva fashion model.”
She squealed out a giggle. “Mommy bought me a pretty ring. See?”
Maizy held up her little fingers so I could admire the pink stone. I winked at my mom. “Mommy has good taste.”
“Someday, I’m going to marry a prince and he’s going to give me one just like this.”
I softly kissed her cheek. “Yes, you will. Now why don’t we… race to the car!” I splayed my fingers across her belly, tickling until she screamed, jumped down, and went flying across the house.
“I’m going to beat you!” she called out.
“Lexi!” my mom scolded. “The whole neighborhood can hear that child when she screams.”
“Well, guess that means you don’t need the tornado sirens. Just give her a bullhorn and we can put her on the roof—”
Mom popped me on the butt with her hand and I chuckled. I might have been in my late twenties, but that woman still saw me as the smart-mouthed little girl who once stood up on a counter at a department store, folded my arms, and announced to everyone that perfume made you smell like a stinky pig. It was a protest because my mom wanted to buy me a bottle of the little girl’s stuff that smelled like overripe bananas.
Ever since then, I’ve despised bananas.
“Let’s go before it gets hot,” I decided. “Do you want to eat at Dairy Queen or come home and make sandwiches?”
Mom grabbed her purse and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. I reached out and hugged her tight.
“Let’s eat out.” She sniffled against my hair. “Maizy can get a chocolate-dipped cone. She likes those. I don’t ever want her to go through life not having the things she wants. Sometimes I still feel guilty for not buying Wes a skateboard when he was nine. I should have given him
everything
,” she said in a broken voice.
Tears welled in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. “It’s okay, Mom. I know. You gave him love, and that was all he needed.”
We sniffed, sighed, and laughed at each other.
“My makeup is ruined,” she said, sliding a finger beneath her lashes to wipe away the mascara.
“That’s okay, Halloween is only four months away.”
“You’re never too old to be grounded, young lady.”
***
We made a brief stop at the cemetery to lay down a bouquet of beautiful white lilies. Maizy climbed on the statues for a while and then we watched her pluck tiny yellow flowers (which were really weeds) from an open patch of grass and place them on Wes’s grave, arranged in the shape of a heart. She’d never met her big bro, but he would have loved her to pieces.
Afterward, we swung by Dairy Queen. It was a new location that had opened earlier that year, and we stopped in once in a while to pick up a sack of burgers and fries, and of course a hot dog for Maizy.
We were sitting at a table by the window, watching Maizy color with a green crayon, when my mom gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh my God, is that who I think it is?”
I swiveled my head around in the direction she was looking. Sunlight reflected off the glass as the door opened and made me squint. Stepping through the front door of Dairy Queen… was Austin Cole.
Also known as my brother’s “best friend for life.” They’d met in the first grade and had been inseparable ever since. He and Wes had run with the same crowd, sometimes dated the same girls, and could finish each other’s sentences. Austin used to spend the night at our house and we’d treated him like a member of the family. In fact, when I was thirteen, I secretly decided we were going to get married. I had doodled Alexia Cole inside my notebook where no one would find it.
As kids, Austin used to pick on me without provocation. He once plucked off all the eyes on my stuffed animals and would dip his finger in my juice glass at the breakfast table and flick the drops at me. He didn’t have a sister, so he probably didn’t know how to deal with girls. Austin wasn’t doing it to be cruel—he just enjoyed getting a rise out of me. I
was
a dramatic little girl.
“He’s changed,” Mom said in a quiet voice.
Her sullen expression at his unexpected appearance told the story. The last time we had seen him was seven years ago at the funeral. He’d left town that week without any explanation. No phone call, no letter, and that hurt. We’d been like his second family.
The visual of his body standing in front of the door burned into my retinas. His swagger in those loose jeans, the way his tight T-shirt had come untucked on the right side, the black leather Oxfords, and most notably, the ropes of muscle in his arms. Austin no longer resembled the boyish young man I had last seen seven years ago. He had filled out in all the right places. While I couldn’t see his eyes behind those mirrored shades, I knew they were still crystal blue and the most remarkable feature he possessed, although the slight cleft in his chin came in a close second. Something about those pale eyes against his brown hair and thick brows could make a woman forget her own name.
He was dangerously handsome and held the attention of every woman of age in the room.
“Is she pretty?” Maizy asked, holding up her picture.
I blinked.
Princess in a green dress with an orange face. “She’s beautiful, Maze.”
My heart pounded against my chest and Mom stabbed the ice cubes in her cup with a clear straw. When her eyes lifted and locked, I knew right then and there he’d spotted her and they were engaged in a staring match. I waited expectantly for him to come up from behind and say an awkward hello.
Instead, I glanced out the window and saw Austin walking briskly to the adjacent parking lot where he had parked his classic Dodge Challenger. It was a badass model with black paint and tinted windows.
“Mom?”
I didn’t even know what I was going to ask. I just felt like something had to be said to deaden the moment.
He had been a second son to her, and maybe having him around after Wes’s death might have helped her get through it. I knew that thought crossed her mind, so I shot up to my feet. “I’m going to get some ice cream.”
“Yay!” Maizy cheered.
I marched over to the counter and right out the door, staring at his tinted windows with my hands on my hips. The tires spun, throwing gravel across the parking lot as he tore off.