By the time Wednesday rolls around, I’m beyond done with the social buzz around school. Yes, Nate and I hang out.

Whoopty-fucking-doo.

It’s not like it’s a big deal. Nate ‘hangs out’ with a lot of girls. Plain and simple. If I was a guy as attractive and talented as he is, and had girls throwing themselves at me left and right, I’d probably do the same thing. Tupac said it right, “I ain’t mad at cha.”

Seriously, though, do they not realize the only reason he’s still hanging around me is because we haven’t had sex? Everyone knows his golden rule is to hit and quit it. He’s the king of the smash and dash.

To say I don’t understand what the fuss is all about is the understatement of the year. Which is exactly why I skipped football practice today.

I need a fucking break.

From everything.

I ran five miles and did mad crunches in PE, but my mind is still racing, so I throw on my running shoes and head out the door.

A few hours and dozens of achy muscles later, I’m lying on my bed, watching my fan go around and around when a text comes through. Picking up my phone, I see it’s from Nate.

 

Handsome: you missed practice.

 

I roll my eyes.

 

Me: you’re perceptive.

 

Handsome: what are you doing?

 

Me: nothing.

 

I sit in beautiful silence for a few minutes before his next text comes through.

 

Handsome: can I come do nothing with you?

 

Me: no.

 

My reply is instant. All that’s left to do now is wait for his persistent ass...

And three, two, one... my phone rings. Shocker.

As soon as I answer, I hear his laughter boom through the speaker and something inside of me eases. A breath full of tension I didn’t realize I was carrying releases.

“Why not?” he asks, laughter fueling his voice.

“Because, we’re supposed to have fun, and I just want to sit here. You don’t need to be here for that.” You shouldn’t be here for that.

When he doesn’t respond, I pull the phone away from my ear, making sure I didn’t lose him.

“Nate?”

I hear some shuffling and then he answers. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry, I was stepping out of the locker room real quick.”

Glancing at the time on my newly purchased, music-operated, alarm clock, I see it’s ten past six. Practice just got released.

“It’s fine.” I begin counting as the fan circles above me.

Nate clears his throat. “What if I want to do nothing with you?”

“I don’t really care. I said no.”

Twenty-five, twenty-six...

“Kalani...” His voice is gruff, determined.

I already know how this is going to go. I say no, he shows up anyway.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I answer, “I’ll unlock the door. Let yourself in.” I hang up quickly so I don’t have to hear his crap about leaving the door unlocked, blah, blah, blah...

I do as I said I would, then climb back into bed and assume the position.

Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five...

I hustle back into the locker room with more of a punch in my step, grab my shit and hit the showers. Not wanting to be a smelly bastard, I try to take my time washing, but knowing Kalani’s door is unlocked has me on overdrive, so I’m out of the shower in record time.

“Pussy on the brain, Monroe?” Jarrod jabs from his locker three spaces down from mine.

“Shit,” Joey, one of my offensive linemen begins, “one pussy’s more like it. Boy’s whipped.” He laughs and playfully swats me with his towel.

Of course, I was expecting it and make quick work of snatching it from his hands.

“You not denying it, then?” Jarrod asks, his eyes pinched at the side.

I know he’s still got a hard-on for Kalani, that much is obvious in how jumpy his eyes are every time she’s around.

I should knock him out.

“Nothing to deny, Hollins. I know where I want to be and yeah,” I pull my shirt over my head, grabbing my wallet and keys, “that happens to be where she is.”

“Safe to say you won’t be heading to Wicker tonight?” Austin asks, jumping into the tail end of our conversation with a smirk.

Walking backward toward the door, I give them a sideways grin. “I’m done at Wicker, boys.” I salute them and walk out, ignoring their jabs and catcalls.

On my way to Kalani’s, I run by the grocery store to get some reinforcements.

I’ve noticed she has these moments where she…I don’t know. It’s almost like she allows herself to be free, but when she stops and thinks about it, realizing she’s enjoying herself or…enjoying me, she pulls back.

I’ve seen it happen on the field before. She’ll smile and get a small light behind her beautiful blue eyes, but as soon as it takes over her features, lighting her up the way she was meant to shine, she turns to stone.

I decided a long time ago that I want her, but I want my Kalani tonight. The Kalani I know only I get to see.

The one that smiles through her eyes and drops her head back on a laugh, making that long dark hair seem impossibly longer. The laugh where she raises her soft little hand over her heart while the other playfully rests on my shoulder.

Yeah, I want to see her tonight.

Once in park, I kill the engine and jog to the door.

The second I turn the handle, a woman yells out from behind me.

I turn around, and my eyebrows jump into my hairline.

Holy shit, Kalani looks just like her mom.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Damn, Kalani’s gonna age real nice.

“Hello?” The dark-haired woman waves as she walks closer. “Why are you just walking into this house?”

I’m cooking up a lie in my head when I remember Kalani said she lives alone, so I go for bold and pray to the football gods it’s the right move.

“She’s waiting for me.” I hook my finger over my shoulder. “She left it open so she didn’t have to get up.” I unintentionally crack a grin when I say this.

That girl loves her some sleep.

It’s clear she’s not necessarily happy with my response considering the way her brows pull in and she glances off. We both stand there for a moment before she nods to herself and turns, heading back to the car parked on the curb.

After a deep exhale, I walk in and find Kalani lying on her bed in an oversized pair of sweats and t-shirt.

I set the bag from the store down next the bed and drop beside her.

She doesn’t say a word, so neither do I.

After a good ten or fifteen minutes, she breaks the silence.

“I had to restart.”

I turn my head toward her in question. Without looking at me, she gives a small jerk of her chin.

“The fan. I was almost at seventeen-hundred.” She shrugs, then turns to me.

As soon as her glacier blue eyes are on me, I smile. “Hi.”

Kalani gazes at me for a moment, her eyes vacant, but I keep my smile in place and I’m rewarded when her blue eyes grow brighter and a small smile plays on her lips. And, of course, a playful eyeroll.

“Hi, Handsome.”

I smile wider and feel like a jackass, so I turn to the fan.

“Handsome?” Her voice, so quiet, lost, and unsure, slices right through me.

“Yeah, Gorgeous?” I palm the center of my chest.

“I’m going to tell you a story, but I need you to distract me after.”

“I can do that,” I mutter into room.

I place my hand on the mattress, so my left pinky is brushing hers.

“She’s not my mom.” My brows pull in and I turn back to her, but she’s staring at the fan now.

“My window’s open, so I overheard.” Her voice is different right now. Almost hollow. I don’t like it, but I know her well enough to know if I ask the wrong question, she’ll make a joke and shut down on me.

“That was my Aunt Kara, Mia’s mom. My parents are dead.”

Shit. I never thought about why Kalani lived alone. I guess I just figured her parents were assholes and not around or something.

“My Aunt Kara?” she begins. “She was my mom’s sister. Her twin.”

I swallow.

“Identical.”

Fuuuck. I’m trying real hard not to react, but… fuck! My hand is twitching to reach out and touch her, but I don’t. Instead, I dig my fingers into the comforter beneath me, and hold my breath, waiting – hoping - to hear the story that broke my girl’s heart.

“My parents, they were cool. Photographers. We traveled all the time. It was fun at first, but after a while, I was tired of missing all the normal kid stuff. Friends’ birthdays, school functions, and crap. Stupid stuff that I could care less about now, but back then…it mattered.

“I kept complaining, so my grandpa, my Papa - he was my dad’s dad - said he’d stay with me for the few months a year that he could, and on some of his off weekends. He had been wanting to for years anyway, but didn’t want to step on my dad’s toes.”

I wonder if she even feels the story she’s telling me? Her idle tone tells me she doesn’t.

“So, the day I turned fourteen, I begged my parents to sign papers to emancipate me, so I could always stay home, even when Papa wasn’t around. I was a good kid, as far as I didn’t get in any actual trouble, so they agreed.” She shrugs into the pillow, her eyes still following the fan around.

“I had to get a work permit, and a little job to get the state papers signed off on by the courts, but it worked.”

“After that, my parents hardly ever came home. I didn’t mind. I got to do whatever I wanted, and hang out with my gramps more often than ever before.” She adjusts her pillow and crosses one leg over the other.

I stay frozen in place, waiting for the hit.

“They came home three times a year. Super Bowl, Fourth of July, and my birthday…” She takes a deep breath, then turns her head toward mine.

I don’t move.

She searches my eyes, for what, I’m not sure, but once she’s satisfied, she continues, her eyes still trained on mine. “My grandpa showed up to surprise me the day before my seventeenth birthday. My parents were due in that day, but their flight was delayed, so they wouldn’t be getting in until the next morning. He didn’t want me to wake up on my birthday by myself.” She turns back to the fan.

“When I woke up on my birthday, I found him hunched over in the kitchen. He was making me French toast.”

I remind myself to breathe.

“Once we got to the hospital, he went through hours of testing before they finally told me he had congestive heart failure, CHF. Apparently, he’d had it for the past few years and he’d had a heart attack. They kept draining the fluids from his lungs, but it wasn’t working. They couldn’t keep him stable; said I only had a couple hours with him.”

Her head jerks toward me and she glares.

“Why don’t you ever say goodbye to me?”

My brows jump at her sudden and unexpected question.

“I pay attention. I hear you say it all the time, to other people, but you never say it to me.” Her tone is accusatory, as if she’s upset by it, but I can see the importance of the question in her eyes. I don’t even think she realizes how badly she wants my answer, maybe even needs it, but I can feel it.

Cautiously, I lift my right hand and tuck her silky black hair behind her ear. Flattening my palm, I let it rest there against her soft skin.

I prop myself up on my elbow and slowly lean down to press a kiss against her lips. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t give in either.

I whisper against her lips, my eyes locked onto hers, “Because, for some reason, the thought of saying goodbye to you does something to me. I don’t like it. It makes me feel like I’m losing something.”

Her lids lower the smallest of fractions and, for a split second, she allows herself to lean into my touch, then quickly looks back to the fan, forcing my hand to drop.

“My grandpa didn’t allow goodbyes; said that’s not something he and I would ever have, a goodbye.” She releases a sharp breath. “Anyway, he was about to die. Just after midnight, the nurse came in to add the cherry on top.”

I can’t handle it anymore, I reach out and pull her to me, tucking her little body into my arms.

Now I can breathe.

“Anyway, he was about to die. Just after midnight, the nurse came in to add the cherry on top.”

Nate’s strong hands grab ahold of me and he pulls my body against his. I can feel his heart beat against my palm. It’s kind of…soothing.

When his hand comes up and begins running through my hair, I get lost in my words and the memory I haven’t allowed to surface in over a year.

“You can go to sleep...” More tears stream down my face, but I have to be brave. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake up for you.”

“Ms. Embers?” A soft, hesitant voice calls from the doorway, and I drop my head back down.

Beep.

“Please, go.” I hear the desperate plea in my voice.

When I hear a soft cry, I look up at the nurse standing in the doorway.

Tears fall from her eyes as she shakes her head back and forth, opening her mouth, then closing it. She says nothing.

Beep.

“Please, just…can you give me this time?” I say, my voice getting louder, tighter. “I just need more time.”

“Ms. Embers, I’m afraid there’s been an accident…” she trails off, her eyes focusing on the floor.

My body tenses and I immediately place my other hand on top of Papa’s, caging it. Shielding him.

She continues, her voice pained, “It’s your parents...” When her eyes finally meet mine, I know. It’s clear as day, right there on her pretty, round face.

“They’re dead, aren’t they?” I think I say aloud, but I can’t be sure, because the moment the last word leaves my mouth, the beeping stops and the searing sound of a flatline drones on.

I look down and my grandpa... My Papa. My best friend.

Gone.

My body starts to convulse, my mind flipping like flashcards, as dozens of thoughts and images fly through my brain. I can hear my pulse in my ears and nothing else. The nice woman’s lips are moving, as are the officers now standing behind her, but I don’t hear them.

Then, suddenly, my body seizes, air flows through me, and I feel…nothing.

Standing, I offer a nod to the men and women in the room, thank them, then walk out. Never once setting foot in that hospital again.

 

Nate’s grip tightens around me and I allow myself to settle into his arms.

“How did they die?” he asks in a tight voice.

“Car accident. Nothing spectacular. Just bad timing, I guess.”

I can’t help but scoff at that. Bad timing alright. My parents and grandpa all died on my seventeenth birthday. All because they wanted to be there to celebrate with me.

“So, your aunt…”

I nod into his chest. “Is a perfect picture of my mother.” I release a deep breath. “She tried to pull the guardian card, since she was the only adult left who I was related to, but my lawyer shut her down quick. Turned out, she had no idea my parents had emancipated me. She did everything she could to have it overturned, but it didn’t work. It was all in good faith on her part, but it was the last thing I wanted.”

“So, you lost your grandpa and parents in the same day, then stayed there alone?” His voice is thick with emotion. “Why, Kalani?” His arms tighten around me protectively.

The answer is simple.

“Twins, Handsome.” I don’t say anything else because that alone is enough.

He whispers after a few minutes, “So, you’re eighteen...”

I nod. “I had good enough grades when everything went down, so I didn’t have to finish out the last two months of my junior year. They dropped, obviously; went from solid A’s to hardly passing C-minuses, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t about to go back, regardless.” I shift, laying my chin on my hand so I can look at Nate’s face.

“When my senior year started, I signed myself out and took the year off. I had a lot of business things I had to handle, since everything that belonged to my parents and grandpa was signed over to me. After that was done, I just hung around.”

Nate starts running his hand through my hair again and I smile.

“Anyway, Mia and my aunt ganged up on me and begged me to come here and finish out school when, really, I should have just gotten my GED, but whatever. I knew they were worried and I had nothing else to do for a while anyway. So here I am,” I say, rolling my eyes.

We lay there in silence for a few minutes, staring at each other, before Nate kisses my hair and shifts out from under me. “I have something for you.”

I look up at him as he makes his way to a bag I didn’t see him bring in.

“What is it?” I ask, curious.

“Nope,” he smiles, and I could kiss him.

He’s trying so hard to act nonchalant after everything I told him and, once again, I find myself wondering why that makes my body seem… lighter.

I make my way around my bed and step into his chest.

Instantly, his arms come around me, barricading me in their safety. I tilt my chin up and we seal our lips together.

Mine, thanking him. His, telling me - showing me - that my words were heard and felt and appreciated.

When a small crack forms in the center of my chest, right where my rapidly beating heart lives, I pull out of his embrace.

Nate says nothing, but grabs the bag, asks me to get my shoes and a sweater, and meet him in his truck.

I change into a pair of black yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, choosing my Uggs over my Chucks.

I hesitate at the front door.

My brows pull in as the fingertips skim slowly over my lips.

A smile pulls at my mouth, but my phone beeps from my boot before it takes over.

 

Handsome: it’s okay to want something. No pain, no gain.

 

I’m wondering if he’s right.

 

 

“What are we doing here?” I ask when we turn down Nates long driveway.

He glances at me quickly, a nervous smile on his face, before focusing back on the dirt road. “We’re hanging out.”

I roll my eyes, of course, but I can’t stop myself from smiling.

I like it out here.

“Alright.” Nate parks his truck and unbuckles his seatbelt. “Give me a minute.”

My brows jump and I try to object, but he’s gone too quick.

Not a minute later, a soft light flicks on, illuminating the swing, and my anxious feet take me right to it.

When I reach the top stair, Nate walks out the front door with a goofy grin in place, two blankets in hand.

I follow him the last few steps to the beautiful escape.

He folds one blanket, laying it across the seat part of the swing, then motions for me to sit. He reaches for my feet, removes my boots, then joins me, covering us both with the other blanket. We settle in next to each other, his feet planted on the floor to sway us, mine tucked underneath me.

He sets the mysterious, white grocery store bag in my lap.

I smile at the bag.

“I have cousins who are twins, Mason and Arianna.”

My lip twitches and I peek up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yep. Same age as us.  Mase plays football, too.”

“Hmm... what’s Mason look like?” I smirk and he glares, earning a laugh.

“You know,” I sigh. “It sounds stupid, but the worst part wasn’t even losing them all, like you’d think it would be.”

“No?”

“Nope.” Releasing a deep breath, I continue, “The worst part was that my Grandpa didn’t tell me he was sick.” I tilt my head and look over at Nate. “How could he not tell me? He was my best friend and he didn’t tell me he was dying.”

Nate’s hand moves to rest on my thigh. “I can’t say for sure,” he gives me a small smile, “but if I had to guess, I’d say he didn’t want you to worry.”

I nod, my lips in a flat line. “Yeah, I figured that, too.”

Nate lifts his hand and rustles the plastic bag, drawing my attention back to my lap.

I untie the knot and peek inside.

Once I see it, my head falls back against the wood, my laughter echoing around us. I don’t lift my head, but turn it to look at Nate.

He’s staring at me with parted lips, his eyes bright and unblinking.

When I see his hand move out of the corner of my eye, my lips twitch in anticipation.

As expected, maybe even wanted, it skims across my cheek until he reaches my hair, where he tucks it gently behind my ear. His hand rests there, in his spot.

And all I want to do is lean into him, get as close as possible, and maybe stay there... for a while anyway.

The thought alone is enough to make my throat grow thick.

“What are you thinking right now?” he whispers.

“You first,” I croak out instantly.

His whispered response is a quick as mine. “I’m thinking about how beautiful you are.” His eyes roam my face and I bite the inside of my cheek. “About how soft your skin is.” He runs his fingers down the side of my neck, my body shivering under his touch. “How, as strange as it may seem, I want to see you smile this way every day, for me... at me.”

It’s my turn to search his face and, as I do, it’s the first time I don’t see the overzealous playboy, but a guy searching for something more in a girl who has nothing to give.

And for the first time in what seems like forever, I feel a ping of sadness, right in the center of my chest. Because right now, I wish I could give him whatever it is he’s looking for.

He sees it, but in true Nate fashion, he doesn’t push. He gives me the pass I need. “Okay, you have to share,” he says, snatching the bag from my fingers.

I laugh and wait as he opens the prepackaged cubes of Nestle’s chocolate chip cookie dough. Setting the package on his lap, he winks and passes me a few pieces.

All I can do is stare at him.

When he turns to me, tilting his head in question, I simply smile and face forward again.

An hour or so later, we’re pulling in my driveway.

“Thanks, Nate,” I turn to him. “For tonight, all of it. I haven’t talked about any of that since it happened. Not to anyone.” I shrug.

His face gives nothing away, but he jerks his chin in response, silently thanking me for trusting him.

The moment my feet pass the threshold of my house, I feed Nauni and am overcome with nostalgia.

Unwilling to wallow, I throw on my running shoes and head out the door.