CHAPTER THREE

 

While one of her sons ate a burrito with a new and interesting woman, Elizabeth was enjoying the echoing silence of her home.

For as long as she could remember, she’d always wanted to be a mother. Raising her three sons was the most fulfilling and most rewarding thing she’d done to date. But that didn’t mean she didn’t truly savor the time she spent alone in the deafening quiet. The noise of three boys was something she’d never quite gotten used to.

Her back porch, screened in by Jackson and Raphael and lovingly furnished by Seth, was her favorite place on earth on an early fall evening. The air was dry and scented, the sky was that deep, glowing blue of twilight. Dinner was still warming in the oven because when she was on her own, she preferred to eat late. She warmed her fingers on a cup of tea and propped her Chuck Taylors up on the railing of the porch. She tipped her head back to close her eyes for a moment and some of her hair fell into her face. She’d been growing her salt and pepper hair out for a while now and she was tempted to go inside and hack it all off again.

She pushed at it impatiently, pulling it up into a bun at the top of her head. It was a style she hadn’t worn in years, and wouldn’t in public. It was too girlish. And at age fifty-five, she was anything but girlish these days.

She’d been only twenty when she got custody of Jackson. He was her best friend’s child. And at two years old, he’d been suddenly and completely orphaned. The only thing that had gotten Elizabeth through the pain of losing Diana was the fact that Jackson had needed her. She figured that if Diana could figure out how to be a mom at age eighteen, Elizabeth could figure it out at twenty.

And she had figured it out. Elizabeth knew she was a great mother. But sometimes she wondered if it had been at the expense of other things. Like dating and dancing and flirting. Because of who her sons were, because of their… special needs, Elizabeth had held the entire world at arm’s length for the last thirty-five years.

Now, with her black and silver bun high on her head and her shoes dancing on the porch railing, she indulged herself in the briefest fantasy that she was young again. That she had somewhere to be on this Saturday night. That she had a man waiting somewhere for her. Ordering a drink for her. Waiting to hold her tight on a dance floor.

Elizabeth sighed. Nat and Kaya had been trying to convince her for years that she didn’t have to forfeit those things any longer. But Elizabeth wasn’t all too sure of that. It wasn’t that she thought of fifty-five as too old. It was just that the romantic part of her brain and heart had been dormant for so long, she wasn’t sure it could be woken up.

Nat had even downloaded some horrible dating app to Elizabeth’s phone and implored her to create a profile.

Elizabeth hadn’t even opened it. But she knew that when she created the profile, she’d be required to upload a photo of some kind.

She picked up her phone and, refusing to do what kids did, she ignored the front facing camera and snapped a picture of her with her phone facing away. She turned the screen back so she could see the picture and laughed at how blurry it was, only her forehead visible.

She tried again. And this time she was actually pleased with the photo. Her hair actually looked kind of nice, sweepy and artsy, like a distinguished author or something. There were shadows on her face, lines that showed her age, but who was she trying to fool? She was fifty-five and looked fifty-five. Actually, she thought she looked rather pretty. But then she imagined posting this image on an app and her stomach iced over.

Yeah. She was not ready for all that.

Elizabeth was just slipping her phone back in her pocket when she heard a stick crack outside her porch. She froze and she was certain that whatever had made the sound froze as well.

Slowly, she reached out to the lamp beside her and clicked it off, letting her eyes get used to the vacuous dark. There were still a few lights on in the house behind her, but for the most part, she could see clearly out into her backyard.

There weren’t more noises as much as there were small, perceptible movements of whatever it was in her backyard. She reached slowly to her side, arming herself with the pellet gun she’d been using to scare the squirrels off of her sunflowers earlier that evening.

Though she’d been raised on the east coast, Elizabeth had been living in Boulder for almost 34 years now. She was extremely familiar with the flora and fauna of the Rocky Mountains. She’d seen bears on her property before, a coyote or two. She’d even come across a mountain lion on a hike many years ago. And whatever was rustling five feet from her porch wasn’t human. And it was big.

She caught a flash of movement, something light in color and quick on its feet. She realized, with a catch in her throat, that the screen door was propped open. A broken hinge often kept the door eight to twelve inches ajar.

She slowly sat up in her chair, the butt of the pellet gun firmly on her shoulder. Her plan was to inch back inside her house and throw the locks, but if the animal charged, she wanted to have the gun at the ready.

The door creaked and Elizabeth was certain that there was something pushing it open. The animal was below the bottom half of the door, which obscured her vision with a wooden panel. She was almost all the way to the door of her house, one foot inside the threshold, when she saw it.

Gray, raised fur, as tall as the bottom half of the door, came into her vision. And then the tops of two pointed ears.

She froze, halfway back into her house, toward safety, when the animal pushed the rest of the way onto her porch.

Elizabeth found herself six feet away from a wiry gray coyote. The coyote found itself on the business end of what appeared to be a cocked and loaded shotgun.

The coyote sat back on its haunches and flattened its ears against its head for a moment.

The painfully familiar scent of animal hide drifted to Elizabeth’s nostrils as her heart jackhammered in her chest.

“It can’t be,” she whispered, staring down at the unfamiliar coyote. “The full moon… it just can’t be.”

But then, even as she watched, even as she pointed the rifle straight at its heart, the coyote bent down, lowering its amber eyes. The coyote touched its muzzle to its front paws. Unmistakably bowing to Elizabeth.

 

 

***

 

 

The next morning a sleepy-eyed and surly Sarah flung her door open, yawning and scratching at the messy pile of hair on her head. “What in God’s name are you doing ringing my doorbell at the ass crack of dawn?”

She scowled at Seth, glanced over at Raphael, then shook her head, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes for a second.

“You’re not seeing double, darling,” Raphael assured her with his trademark grin on his face. “We’re identical.”

“Wow.” Sarah looked back and forth between them, studying the two men in front of her. “Well, not completely identical. He’s built. You’re scrawny.” She pointed to Raphael first and then to Seth. Both brothers burst out laughing.

“I like you,” Raphael said, holding out a hand. “Raphael Durant. At your service. Apparently. Or so says my brother when he kicked me out of his guest room half an hour ago.”

“If you’re gonna crash at my place in the middle of the night, the least you can do is help me with a project.”

“Sarah Moyer.” Sarah shook hands with Raphael and continued to study the brothers. Seth was in casual clothing, for him at least, with blue jogging sweatpants and a crisp white T. Raphael wore torn basketball shorts and old tennis shoes that had probably, at one point, been white. His top half was covered in a John Mayer concert T that had the sleeves ripped off.

“Big John Mayer fan?” Sarah asked wryly, yawning again and using the doorjamb for support.

Raphael looked down at himself, shrugging. “Nah. Just something to talk to girls about. So, I guess the real answer is that I’m not, unless you are.”

Sarah laughed and shook her head at him. She usually steered well clear of sleazeballs, but there was something about Raphael that put her at ease. He was a sloppier version of his brother, but whatever it was that relaxed her around Seth, Raphael had that in spades as well.

“What the hell are you guys doing on my front porch at sunrise?”

“Good lord, you two,” Seth said, shaking his head. “8 am is not sunrise. And we’re here to get started on painting. We have to get cracking if we’re gonna finish before they deliver the furniture this week.”

Sarah gaped at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Seth, I don’t expect you to paint my house. I can hire someone to—”

“Waste of money,” Raphael said, cutting her off and surprising her in equal measure. “We’re here. Nothing better to do on a Sunday anyways. All the good girls are in church.” He grinned at her. “Just feed us and we’ll call it even.”

Sarah really was surprised. Even as she stood there, she felt her understanding of Seth reorder itself. He was a neat freak, overly friendly neighbor who had an obsession with home decoration, who was also incredibly generous with his time and labor? She needled her bottom lip while she tried to figure out what exactly it was that he was trying to cash in on.

Her father’s voice played in her head like it was on a recording. He wants something from you, Sarah. Just because you haven’t figured it out yet doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Nobody is that nice.

For a moment, she almost refused the help from the brothers. Her father’s voice rang in her ears, and a lifetime of listening to him was a hard habit to break. But then, in the end, she forced herself to do the exact opposite of what her father would have advised.

Instead of viewing these two people as men who wanted to take something from her, she viewed them as two people who wanted to give something to her.

She stepped back and let them come inside. “My cooking skills extend to protein shakes and hard-boiled eggs. Oh, and I can make a killer sandwich. But beyond that, I’m pretty much a boss at ordering in.”

Seth pulled out his phone and typed some stuff in before he handed it to her. “This diner delivers breakfast. But your homemade sandwiches for lunch sound perfect.”

By the time she’d finished ordering enough breakfast to feed an army, she walked back into her living room to see that the brothers had already spread out plastic to cover up her hardwood floors and had started spackling all the little divots in the drywall. She disappeared upstairs, threw on a pair of old athletic shorts, a sports bra and a tank top, and joined them.

They broke for breakfast when it arrived, stuffed their faces and then worked their asses off again. Sarah made obscenely large sandwiches for each of them for lunch and Raphael insisted he needed a nap in the sun before he got back to work. Seth, however, pushed his sleeves back up and was back to work the moment he was done with lunch.

Sarah stood in the doorway, finishing off her iced tea and watching him. He was already sanding down the walls of the living room. He’d told her at lunch that he hoped to be able to wash and dust the first floor by dinner time and then they could start painting after work tomorrow.

“Seriously, how am I supposed to pay you back for this?” Sarah asked him.

He turned to her with a grin and a shrug. “Be my friend?”

Sarah laughed. “How very grade school of you.”

Seth laughed with her. “I miss grade school. Things were simpler back then. Play with someone on the monkey bars? Boom. Friends. Kiss a girl on the walk home from school? Boom. Girlfriend. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.”

Sarah considered that for a moment and decided that with a personality as friendly as Seth’s, grade school probably was just that easy for him. “I can’t imagine you have much trouble making friends these days, Seth. Or getting girlfriends.”

He gave her a long, slow grin that was a little wolfish by the time it stopped creeping across his face. “Is that a compliment?”

She shrugged. “It’s an observation. You’re friendly and pretty. Two things that people like in the people they choose to be their friends or boyfriends.”

He cocked his head to one side. “So… not a compliment, then?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re just trying to get me to say you’re pretty again.”

He grimaced. “I’m not pretty. I’m… something else. But not pretty.”

She raised her eyebrows and laughed. “Sorry to break the news to you, but you’re pretty. Like, Abercrombie pretty. Your brother, on the other hand, looks like he could be starring in Sons of Anarchy. But you? You’re model pretty.”
Seth frowned and Raphael snickered as he inched past Sarah.

“Dude, your girlfriend just burned you so bad.”

Seth scowled. He pointed one finger at Raphael. “Sarah and I are just friends.” He pointed that same aggressive finger at Sarah. “And I am not pretty.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

Raphael hooted with laughter and Seth threw his hands up, turning back to his work. “Maybe I need a few scars or something. Something to toughen up my appearance.”

“Maybe you need to stop matching your socks to your underwear,” Raphael quipped, starting to sand down the wall closest to him.

Sarah barked with loud laughter. It was a delight to be in the midst of two brothers. She was an only child and had never had the kind of dynamic that she was witnessing right now. Prickly and humorous and loving and comfortable and irritated all at once. It looked good on them.

“You do not do that… right?” she demanded of Seth.

He turned back to face her, sheepish grin on his face. He yanked up one ankle of his jogging sweatpants to expose a navy blue athletic sock. Next, he rucked up the white T-shirt to show a matching navy blue strip of underwear peeking out from the top of his low-riding sweatpants.

But that wasn’t all that she saw. There was a six-inch strip of tanned skin exposed. His smooth side was golden and a shadow arced down over his hip in a V straight under his pants. He was already dropping his shirt, but not before she caught sight of a blond happy trail, the hint of a six-pack.

She’d been to the Olympics twice, she’d seen the hottest, most fit bodies that the world had to offer. But one glimpse of Seth’s stomach and Sarah’s brain went, guh.

It was clear to her that though he wasn’t as thick as his brother, Seth was by no means thin. When he reached his arm up to keep sanding the wall this time, Sarah watched. And yeah. There was definitely some muscle there.

She averted her eyes. It felt wrong to perv on a guy who was being so friendly and generous to her. Especially one who, in no uncertain terms, had just firmly friend-zoned her.

Sarah walked into the room and picked up a sanding sponge. She set it back down. She turned to one wall and then the other. One of her feet started tapping.

“You all right?” Seth asked from behind her, watching her over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” she said, but her voice wasn’t even convincing to herself.

He raised an eyebrow and turned to face her. “You sure? We can get out of your hair if you want your space back.”

“No, no. It’s not that.”

“Sarah,” Seth started. He said her name as if he’d been saying it for years, as if they hadn’t just met the other day.

“I really need to go on a run is all,” Sarah said, cutting him off. “But it feels like maybe it’s rude to do that while you guys are doing all this free labor for me?”

“Nah,” Raphael said, still facing the wall as he worked. “Go ahead, girl. Do your thing. We’ll be here when you get back. Besides, you’ve already more than paid us in sandwiches. I’ve never had a triple decker before.”

Seth nodded his agreement. “Totally. You go ahead. No big deal.”

Sarah took them at their word and went and changed into her running shoes. They were a pair that had begun to show a little bit of wear. When she sat on her front porch, lacing them up, she couldn’t help but just stare at them for a minute. She’d never, ever worn a pair of running shoes for more than two months before.

One, because you’re not supposed to wear out running shoes—they lose their support if you do. And two, because up until this summer, she’d always had endorsements with athletic companies that sent her free swag up to her ears. She literally couldn’t remember the last time she’d paid for athletic equipment of any kind.

She sighed.

Well, that was gone now. The Olympics had ended just a few weeks ago and her endorsements were gone along with her hopes at a medal. The only thing left of her legacy was the body she was sitting on the steps with. And, of course, the silver medal that her father refused to let her take with her when she moved out west.

So, her body then. That was the only thing left that she still owned.

She stood up, stretched for a minute, and took off at an easy jog down the street. She didn’t want to think about that anymore. All the things she’d lost.

Instead, she’d think about all the things she had. She composed the list in her head. She had Aunt Lynn, the only family member she had who wasn’t drinking her father’s Kool-Aid. Moving to where Aunt Lynn lived had been a no-brainer. Sarah would be closer to a family member who loved her, and she couldn’t help but feel like Lynn had some magic forcefield that kept her father away.

What else did she have? Ah, she was a home owner now. She had a kickass house that was gonna be even more kickass once Seth was done with it. She was gaining a new friend. Who was extremely pretty but also sneaky hot. Whoops. That was a no go. The last thing she needed was to get a crush on her neighbor who was not interested in her.

She ran faster and harder, the way she hadn’t done in a month. She was out of shape, by her standards, and thus, she punished herself by running harder, faster, never letting up. Her lungs screamed and her father’s voice rang in her head. You’re looking a little thick. Why don’t you go for a run? Rise and shine, tubby, time for a run. Your last run time was slow. Do we have to change your diet again?             

Sarah was tempted to run harder, to try and leave her father’s cruel words and twisted ambitions behind her. But, instead, she did something new. She slowed her gear down. She went from a sustained sprint down to a jog. She was jogging at a speed he never would have approved of. He’d mock her for going so slowly. He’d convince her that she didn’t care about the health of her body as much as he did. He’d make her run until she literally puked. And then he’d tell her it was okay because she’d eaten too much that day anyways.

Bastard.

Again, her anger had sped her up to an untenable pace and she forced herself to slow the heck down. The houses and mailboxes were still whizzing past, so she knew she wasn’t going that slow. But she was going slow enough that the wind wasn’t whipping away the heat of her skin. Her racing heart wasn’t erased by the pounding of her feet. She could actually feel the work her body was doing to get her here to this very moment. The one she was so freaking grateful for.

It was harder to run this way, she realized. Sprinting, pushing herself to the threshold of what she was capable of, that had been her only gear for all the years she’d been exercising. But this? Allowing herself to acknowledge her own discomfort, listening to her body, refusing to compare her success to anything else… it was harder for her.

But that didn’t mean that it didn’t feel good. After a mile or so of this slower pace, she felt her body fall into a new rhythm, a natural one that she hadn’t really known she had. Her breaths were even enough, and her heart didn’t race so much as beat strongly, with purpose.

By the time she made it back to her own front porch, she was drenched in sweat, her body was loose, and she had absolutely no idea how long or how far she’d run. If she was running at her Olympic pace, she could track herself without a phone very easily. But at this new pace? She had no clue. It was thrilling.

She stretched on the front porch and then knew it was time to head back in. The afternoon was starting to fade. It was hot in the clear, sunny patches, but chilly in the shade. Besides, she needed to either convince these guys to quit for the day or continue to help them.

She took a deep breath, said a prayer of thanks to her body and went inside.

 

 

***

 

 

“I thought you worked at the shelters on Sundays.”

Raph and Seth had already finished sanding all the walls on the first floor and were back around just washing and dusting now. Necessary prep work if they wanted the paint job to look perfect. Which, of course, Seth did. And Raphael, as disheveled as his appearance might be, truly did care about the quality of his work. No matter how complicated and exacting a plan Seth might dream up for one of their landscaping projects, Raphael executed it with ruthless precision, not giving up until it was utterly perfect. It didn’t hurt that Raph had the steadiest hands of any person Seth had ever met. Seth knew already that Raph would be able to paint all the trim in this house without needing to lay down tape. Just one swipe of his hand and it would be a perfectly straight line.

Seth had seen his brother get a bullseye on a dartboard without looking. He’d seen him make a half-court shot during the halftime show at a Nuggets game. Raph could juggle, he won every carnival game, he could thread a needle with frayed thread. Some people just had it, and whatever it was, Raph had it.

Seth was extremely grateful that his brother had agreed to help him out. If he hadn’t, the Sarah painting project would have taken twice as long. “I usually do, but I rescheduled because I really wanted to get a jump on Sarah’s house.”

“Why?”

Seth knew his brother well enough to know that there were actually a whole bunch of questions wrapped up in that ‘why’, so he chose to answer the easiest one.
“Because she was living in a pig sty with no end in sight. And I know that for a lot of people, if you don’t set up your house right away, it stays mediocre forever. And I’ve always liked this house. So, I wanted to help get it right.”

Raphael shook his head. “Right. You just got the itch to do a little random home improvement. It has nothing to do with your cute-ass neighbor.”

“She’s cute, but not my type. And no. My neighborly friendliness does not depend on whether or not the neighbor is cute, because I’m not a perv, like you.”

Raph continued on as if he’d barely heard Seth. “And it definitely doesn’t have anything to do with what happened with June. Right?”

There was a beat of silence. “June has nothing do with this.”

“You’re not doing anything to keep yourself busy while you get over her?”

Seth, scrubbing at the walls, refused to look at his brother. Sometimes it was so freaking annoying having a twin. And what was even worse than that? Having an intuitive twin. Who wouldn’t ever let anything rest.

“You know I’m not still getting over June, Raph,” Seth finally said quietly. “It wasn’t June that got me so down. It’s just the…”

“Inevitability?” Raphael supplied. “The fact that we’ll never get to have a girl in any meaningful way? The fact that any time we get close to someone we have absolutely no choice but to kick them to the curb? Yeah. That’s the part that gets to me, too.”

Seth grunted. Raphael’s aim was true when it came to a dartboard and when it came to telling the truth. Sometimes he hit the nail on the head so freaking hard that Seth felt cleaved in two.

“Yeah. I guess that’s it. Just kind of lonely, I guess.”

Raph nodded. “Me too, man. Why else would I crash out drunk in your guest room.”

“Because my guest room kicks ass,” Seth quipped, shooting for some levity. If they got to talking about all the things they could never have because of who they were… well, it always bummed them out. “And Sarah’s house is gonna kick ass too, if I have anything to do with it.”

“Seriously,” Sarah’s voice came from behind them. “Am I on a hidden camera HGTV show or something? Two hot twins fix up a neighbor’s house for free? Any minute some washed-up, aging star is going to emerge from my bathroom and shove a microphone in my face?”

Seth laughed and turned, but his laughter jammed in his throat the second he caught sight of her. She was so sweaty she was shiny, the end of her long ponytail darkened and wet where it lay over her shoulder. Her mouth was slightly open as she panted, her color high on her cheeks and her hands on her hips. She looked strong and active and holy shit, she smelled good. He caught that girl-sweat smell from all the way across the room and liked it. He couldn’t explain it and he sure couldn’t deny it, he just liked it.

She wasn’t model pretty. She was more muscular than thin. She was a little skeptical, a little surly, a lot hungry. But there was something about her standing there, flashing all sorts of toned lines and the straps of a sweaty sports bra.

He just liked it.

“Dang, girl,” Raph said. “You’ve been gone for a long time. How far did you run?”

She shrugged. “Not sure exactly, I didn’t track it. But I ran to that bike park and back. I think it’s called Valmont?”

Both brothers just stared at her for a second. Seth shook his head to get his brain jumpstarted again. “You ran to Valmont and back? That’s gotta be at least fourteen miles.”

She shrugged. “Cool.”

Seth looked at his watch. “You were only gone for a little over an hour and a half.”

She stared at him blankly as if to ask what’s your point?

He stared back at her. “That’s, like, a seven-minute mile. For fourteen miles.”

She shrugged again, this time a little sheepishly. “So, I’m a little out of shape. I’ve been taking a break for a few weeks.”

Seth and Raphael made eye contact, the surprise apparent on both their faces. “Sarah,” Seth said slowly. “I was complimenting you, not criticizing. A seven-minute mile is really fast. And to do fourteen of them? I mean, Jesus.”

“Oh.” She shifted from one foot to the other, like she wasn’t sure what to do with that information. “I need more friends,” she blurted. And then went instantly pink, covering her eyes with one hand. “That was awkward.”

Seth and Raph made eye contact again, this time while chuckling.

She brought her hand down. “What I meant is that the only friends I’ve ever really had are other really intense athletes and I’m kind of trying to… cleanse myself of that right now. And if I can’t even tell the difference between a compliment or a criticism, then I think I really need some friends to kind of, I don’t know, teach me about life. Normal life.”

“Well, you’ve got two friends standing right in front of you, girlie,” Raph said. “But if you want, why don’t we take you out later this week? We can get some dinner. There’s a few places where some of our friends usually hang out. We can introduce you around.”

Seth snapped his attention from Sarah’s hopeful face to his brother’s. “Where are you talking about?”

“Coretti’s.”

“What? No. We’re not taking her to Coretti’s.”

“Why not? They’ve got great pizza.”

“It’s a hook-up scene, Raph.”

“Um. So what?”

“Raph!”

“What’s wrong with a hook-up scene? She said she wanted to meet people. I assume that includes men.”

Seth put his hands on his hips. “Have you seen her? She’s obviously capable of meeting men on her own. She doesn’t need you to pimp her out.”

Raph laughed and cracked his neck to one side. “Taking her to a pizza joint at 6 pm on a random Tuesday or Wednesday night isn’t exactly the same as slapping some ripped up tights on her and making her march around on a street corner, okay? Coretti’s is fun! Who cares if it’s a hook-up scene?”

“Not me,” Sarah cut in. “Pizza sounds good. And I’m not exactly Virgin Mary. If your friends are gonna be there, I’m in.”

Seth’s brow furrowed. This had gotten out of hand very fast. “Sarah…”

“Seth, it’s fine. You think I can’t handle myself?”

Involuntarily, his gaze skated down her body. She was toned and soft and strong and a drop of sweat coasted over her golden chest and disappeared into her sports bra. She looked like an ancient Greek goddess of war. Ready to kick ass and have sex. He cleared his throat.

“Yeah. No. I mean, sure, we can go to Coretti’s.”

She nodded. “That’s great! Look, I’m gonna shower and then I’ll be back down to help.”

Seth turned back to the wall to finish up work, ignoring his brother’s gaze the entire time.