Page 7

I hadn’t seen Alex approach. Sneaky bastard came from behind. Like a coward. He disrupted my peace, like always, and I was halfway out of the sandbox before he could fully settle next to the spot I’d just vacated. Immediately, his hands were out, held placatingly.

“I just want to talk.”

He looked vulnerable sitting on the ground while I loomed above him.

I considered it. It would be the adult thing to do. Mature. I had no idea what had happened between our earlier fight and now. Clearly something—if he was approaching me with a white flag raised.

But I simply wasn’t interested.

“C’mon Mavis, let’s go find your mom,” I said instead of acknowledging him. Alex blinked, obviously surprised. Mavis ignored me, even going so far as to wiggle to the other side of the sandbox so she could build another castle away from us .

“George—” Alex tried.

“I’m not talking to you.” I cut him off. Half in the box and half out, I was at a crossroads. This was not a conversation I wanted to have with Mavis around. But then again…she acted as a buffer. Forced him to behave, at least somewhat.

Unless Roderick had been lying when he’d said Alex liked kids.

“Look—”

“No, you look.” I jabbed a finger at him, honestly so fucking done with this entire fucking day. Hushed enough Mavis wouldn’t hear, I spoke again, enunciating every syllable. “I haven’t been home for eight fucking years. Eight. Years . And after the shittiest year of my life, all I wanted was to come here—to see my mom—to get to pretend for one fucking week that my life isn’t a goddamn shit show.”

Alex’s eyes were wide. He looked caught in a way he hadn’t before.

“And you …” I sucked in a breath, then deflated. “Jesus. I’m not going to pretend like I wasn’t at fault too, but we both know you were fucking with me—why? I have no idea. And frankly, I don’t care.” Surprisingly mature, I know. “I can’t be around you. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to make peace with you—if that’s why you’re here. In fact, I want to be as far away from you as fucking possible for the rest of this goddamn trip.”

Alex was quiet.

Uncharacteristically quiet. Like until that moment he hadn’t realized how far he’d pushed me. He opened his mouth, blue eyes swimming with complex emotion. “I…” He sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry, George.” There was a lot packed into that simple apology. “I didn’t mean to.”

It caught me off guard how much I wanted to believe it. But I didn’t have it in me.

“Yes, you did,” I said in reply. “Now will you please just…leave me alone?” And then, because I was making a point, I plopped back down into the spot I’d abandoned .

Alex rose from his seat, folding that big body up, then straightening. He blocked the setting sun from view as he shuffled in front of me, dark brow furrowed like he didn’t know what to say. Our positions were mirrored. In a way it felt poetic.

That was fine.

“I…” Alex trailed off, awkwardly standing there. For the first time since I’d met him, he looked off-kilter. The spark in his eyes was missing entirely. “Okay. Sure. Whatever you want.” His hands clenched at his sides, big fists squeezing anxiously, once, twice, three times.

And then he left.

Like I’d wanted.

And I could breathe again.

He didn’t go far, flirting with one of my mother’s friends in the center of the yard, and then my mother herself. I kept an eye on him—for insurance. But even I could tell the flirting was half-hearted. There was a droop to him that hadn’t been there before. And he kept giving me these sad puppy eyes. Way fucking worse than when I’d left him alone on the plane.

I was tempted to storm over there and separate him from Mom, but I didn’t. Not when she looked at him fondly, nodding along to whatever he was saying—even going so far as to reach out at one point and lay a hand on his arm. I had no idea what he was telling her. Something stupid, no doubt. Even if…judging by her expression, it was sincere.

Alex knew my family.

Maybe better than I did, considering how far away I lived.

It pissed me off to no end how attractive he looked. And also? It wasn’t fucking fair that seeing him talk to my Mom ignited a flurry of butterflies in my belly. Butterflies I squashed as quickly as they appeared.

I hadn’t been lying when I’d told him I was done with him.

And I was…kind of proud of myself. I’d only ever stuck up for myself once before, when I’d broken up with Brendon—and that had been after a pa nic attack or two, and actual real physical evidence that proved he was a goddamn liar.

So, it was odd that with Alex, I’d managed it so easily.

How was it fair that the only man I’d ever been fully honest with was such a fucking dick?

And what about him made me feel safe to speak my mind?

None of this made any sense.

Breaking my bubble of peace, a screech filled the air. It was the most sincerely heinous thing I’d ever heard—at least since the last time Mr. Pickles had needed a bath. The horrible wail rattled my ear drums. Mavis slapped her sandy hands over her ears, scowling toward the kid with the baseball bat—the culprit behind the noise.

Apparently, he’d injured himself.

His mom, a woman I didn’t recognize, was consoling him, but it wasn’t doing much. Due to the commotion, the festivities were at a standstill. Mom frowned, a tenseness around the corners of her mouth, and immediately, I rose to my feet to help.

“Is he okay?” I called, crossing the yard, ignoring the weight of Alex’s gaze as I did so.

“He scraped his knee,” she said, smiling at me, before turning her attention back to her child. “It’s just a scratch, baby. You’re okay—” I could hear the kid’s mom’s reassurances, but her words were soon drowned out by his anguish once again.

“There’s so much blood —” Baseball-kid wailed, clutching his injured leg like it was broken—when in reality, it was barely scraped.

“There’s a first-aid kit in my backpack,” I promised. “Give me a second to find where my brother stashed it on the porch and I’ll grab it for you?”

The kid sniffled as he nodded. Relieved, I swiveled to face the porch where I knew Joe had wandered with my bag. Only…apparently Dad had overheard. Because he was no longer manning the grill, and with abject horror, I watched th rough the gaps in the railing as he bent over to retrieve it.

Shit.

Shit.

He better not open it.

Oh my god.

No.

No.

If my dad opened the pocket, he’d see Neil. He’d see Neil. He’d see?—

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

This could not be happening!

Murphy’s Law was a sad, vicious bitch.

Dad reached for the zipper, but before I could protest, or throw up, Alex was pounding up the steps to the porch. He was fucking fast for such a large man. Agile. Which I suppose made sense, considering how active he’d said he was when we’d chatted on the plane. I was right below, and therefore could hear and see just fine when Alex yoinked my backpack out of Dad’s hands with a blurted, “I got this!”

Somehow, this was even worse .

I didn’t know what to expect.

Had Alex seen an opportunity to humiliate me again?

Was this his way of getting back at me for not forgiving him when he’d apologized earlier? I’d been the one who hadn’t wanted to bury the hatchet. It would be the perfect revenge for him to yank my bag open, grab my dildo, and wave it around for the whole world to see.

My life flashed before my eyes.

Visions of shiny silicone hell nearly blinded me as a cold sweat broke out across my forehead. Frozen still, unable to even react, my cry of panic stuck in my throat. There was nothing I could do to stop Alex. I was simply too far away.

This would live in infamy at every family gathering for the rest of my life. I could see my future now. George-Arthur, the size queen, exiled from his hometown for bringing a dildo to a barbecue.

I grimaced, waiting, expecting him to open the bag.

But…

He…didn’t.

Instead, Alex jogged down the stairs and to my side, big chest heaving. “Here,” he said softly, handing me my backpack before surreptitiously stepping in front of it to block it from view. “I got you.”

I remained frozen, shocked. Just like at the airport, Alex had come to my rescue. I…didn’t know what to do with that.

So I did what I did best.

Ignored it.

I was careful not to jostle Neil as I pulled the first-aid kit out and quickly zipped up the bag. My heart was pounding, an unhealthy flush on my cheeks as I offered the kid’s mom the kit, and Alex stepped out of the way.

He hovered, but didn’t speak to me again—even though I could feel the weight of his gaze like a brand on my face. I looked away, unsure of what to do with the ache of gratitude that filled my heart.

Alex had saved me.

Again.

The kid blubbered as his mother murmured softly to soothe him. She was gentle as she cleaned the, frankly, tiny scrape.

“It hurts!”

“I know, bud.” Alex made a soothing sound, crouching down by the kid. Now bandaged, the child lay on the ground like a dead fish. The silence had drawn on too long, and I opened my mouth to offer the kid something—anything—to distract him, but…once again, Alex beat me to the punch.

“Wanna hit me with your baseball bat?” he asked, smiling down at his splotchy, tear-streaked, ruddy cheeks. “Would that cheer you up?”

“How many times?” Baseball-bat-kid sniffed suspiciously .

“As many times as it takes for you to forget about your knee.”

“Deal.” The kid launched to his feet, thoroughly distracted by the promise of violence. He tugged Alex away by the wrist, hunting for the inflatable bat he’d abandoned prior to his minor maiming. Alex gave me one last lingering glance over his shoulder before he turned away again.

And I genuinely did not know what to think.

Not about him, or about all of this.

Not about his apology, or the fact that he’d come to my rescue.

I simply couldn’t wait for the day to end.

After the party had wound down, and I’d helped clean up, Mom awarded me with a kiss to the cheek and the command to go rest. I didn’t argue. I was way too fucking tired to do anything other than nod and follow her upstairs.

Hours later, I lay awake on my twin bed, tucked into the same sheets I’d had in high school, freshly washed—courtesy of Mom of course. Through the window, I could see the lights on at Roderick’s house across the street. They were all still preparing for the campout the following day.

Tonight was the only night I’d be spending in Chesterton. After that, it was seven days in the wild—a fact that absolutely horrified me.

My mom was also awake. I could hear her downstairs ordering Joe and Lacey about—both of whom hadn’t said a single word when Mom had exiled me, even though it meant they had to do my work too. Maybe I’d looked as wrung out as I felt.

Either way, they’d offered me some grace.

Mom’s yells were intermittent, scattered between bouts of silence as everyone worked to pack up the food and kitchen supplies we’d need to host a large group for such a long period outdoors. Mom was in charge of the food. Not because she was officially a caterer, but because she’d insisted it was her wedding gift to Roderick to take care of him like she had when we were kids.

It was no surprise that even well past midnight, Mom was bossing our entire household around like she was their sergeant and Roderick’s wedding was war. She took her promises seriously. She always had.

I’d missed her.

I’d even missed her nosiness.

She was— incredibly nosy.

“You and Alex looked cozy in the sandbox,” she told me as she’d been making my bed for me a few hours earlier. I’d offered to do it myself, and she’d looked so offended I’d shut up. “Maybe you can ride with him to the venue tomorrow.”

“Cozy” was a stretch and she knew it.

“Ha. Very funny,” I replied, too exhausted to say much else.

“It’s not a bad idea to clear the air,” she gently prodded. I could still remember how massive Alex had looked towering over her, a contrite expression on his face.

“What did he tell you?” My heart skipped a beat. “Whatever it was—was most definitely a lie. He’s a manipulative lying son-of-a?—”

“He told me not to blame you,” Mom cut me off, tucking the sheets around the corners of the bed. “That he’d provoked you, and not to hold it against you.”

I blinked.

A beat passed, silence echoing between us.

“He said that?”

“He did.” She moved to the other side of the bed, working at the other corners. “He wanted me to know he was to blame for the entire argument.” With a grunt, she straightened up, turning to look at me. There was a knowing glint in her eyes I wasn’t sure I liked.

I was surprised, to say the least.

Confused, mostly.

I didn’t know what to make of any of this .

“I’m not riding with him,” I replied, because I had no idea how to confront…any of that. Shame sat like lead in my stomach at the reminder of how I’d let her down. “And I’m…” I sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“You didn’t do anything to be sorry about,” Mom shook her head, quirking a brow. “Flirting is not a punishable offense.”

I flushed. “I wasn’t flirting.”

“From where I was standing, you were.”

So apparently I hadn’t offended her like I’d thought I had. That was good. Even if it was embarrassing.

“I’m not riding with him,” I reiterated, because she’d ignored that bit.

“Mhm.” Mom did not sound convinced.

“I’m not.”

“We’ll see.”

“Mom,” I cut her off, shuffling from foot to foot as she turned back to the bed to tuck in the comforter. “Please tell me you’re not also trying to hook me up with Alex?” I already knew she was. Juniper had confirmed it earlier, but playing dumb was the easiest way to confront her.

Mom’s silence was all the answer I needed.

“I don’t need you, or Joe, or god forbid, Roderick to set me up. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

She sniffed, “I never said you weren’t.”

“I don’t need a boyfriend.”

“Of course not,” she replied noncommittally.

More silence.

“ Mom .” And now I was whining, like a petulant child.

“It’s been a year since you broke up with Brendon, George.” Mom peeked up at me through her off-center, overly glued false eyelashes. “Besides…Alex is nice .”

“Uh-huh. Sure .” I tried to hide my smile, but I couldn’t help it. “And I’m a leprechaun. ”

“You could do a lot worse,” she wheedled.

It didn’t take a genius to understand the implications of that statement. Mom had never liked Brendon. Ever. I knew what she’d wanted to say. She’d wanted to say, “You’ve done a lot worse,” but had been too kind to outright call me out.

She looked cute when she was guilty. Like a naughty pug. Her figurative tail was between her legs, her face scrunched up, and her skin was flushed splotchy. Huh…I was now realizing that it was probably genetic.

“I’m riding with Mavis,” I reiterated.

“Fine, fine.” She sighed, giving up on me. She paused, her blonde hair bouncing. It was clear she was debating whether or not to speak. Braving my ire, she added on, “But you can’t blame me, can you? I worry about you, that’s all. And that ex of yours was a real piece of work.”

Her face did the scrunched-up pug thing again, and I hid my smile against my shoulder, shaking my head.

“You just want more grandbabies,” I accused to lighten the mood.

“ George !” She slapped my arm, but then her face twisted into a wry grin. Her blonde hair bounced again. Like Jell-O.

“You’re not as sneaky as you think you are,” I teased as I leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“So you think,” she said, though she did pull me into another hug, showing me that we were okay. It’d been so long since I’d felt this warmth, I almost didn’t know what to do with it. Her meddlesome kind of care was as welcome as it was foreign. The perfect edges of the sheets she’d folded were another reminder of how deeply Mom loved me.

Deeply enough I couldn’t be angry—not when she so obviously only wanted to see me happy.

I figured the whole thing was resolved.

I was wrong.