Page 25

I shrug, thinking back. “I like a challenge. It started off mainly as a way to irritate my mom. She bought a fiddle leaf fig like five or so years ago and swore she could keep it alive. My mom has never, ever managed to keep a plant alive in her entire life, and when it inevitably started to die, Noah bet me fifty bucks I couldn’t bring it back to life.

So, then it became an honor thing. I did a ton of research on reviving plants, and it took a couple weeks, but I managed to do it.

Every time she saw me for the next month, she would mutter about me getting lucky. Noah too.”

She grins at me. “So, you set out to prove to both of them that it wasn’t just beginner’s luck.”

“You bet. It became a kind of habit, and it turned out it helped when I wasn’t having great mental health days, so I stuck with it.”

“It’s a really impressive collection. Do they have names? My dad loved to garden, and he named all his favorite plants.”

“Sure do. I named them all after famous people born in Boston.”

She laughs. “I love that. Later you can introduce me to them.”

“To my plants?”

She shrugs. “Why not? You obviously love them. I want to know all the things you love.”

“Then I want to tell you,” I manage through the emotion tightening my chest.

“Do your brothers know?” Amelia asks suddenly.

“About the plants?” I know exactly what she’s asking, but it’s my least favorite subject to talk about, so my instinct is to deflect. I should have known I couldn’t get away with that from her because she just gives me an unimpressed look.

“No, El, not about the plants.”

I blow out a breath and scrub a hand over my face.

“I know. And no, they don’t. I’m not proud of it, and trust me, my mom has read me the riot act a million times in the last decade or so.

Growing up, the four of us all kind of had our roles.

Jordan’s the oldest. Noah is the goofy joker of the bunch.

Cooper is the quiet caretaker. And I’m the details guy who remembers birthdays and important dates and the name of the associate Coop is feuding with at work.

I organize all the things and make sure everyone’s hanging their clothes on padded hangers like adults, and I’ve always been the one everyone tells their shit to.

I guess part of me was afraid that if I let them in, they would treat me differently, and I don’t know what that would feel like.

I haven’t been ready to find out. Also, when I go dark, I mostly like to be alone. ”

Amelia sets her mug aside and draws her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. “You’re not alone right now.”

We lock eyes, and the warmth that flows between us makes it feel like we’re in our own little bubble. “No, I’m definitely not alone right now. I think if I could have you with me, I would never want to be alone again.”

Amelia’s eyes go soft, and she tilts her head to the side, her long brown waves falling over her shoulder. “I understand the instinct to keep the big things to yourself, more than you could possibly imagine.”

“The PhD program?” I ask.

She nods. “There’s that, but it started before that.

Like I told you, I never wanted to make life harder for Gabe, so I was always fine, even when I wasn’t.

I kept all the big stuff from him, and then it got to the point where I was keeping the small stuff from him too.

I guess I tried so hard not to be a burden that I became the kind of person who never tells anyone anything.

It’s ironic because I was the opposite of that person before my parents died.

My mom and I talked about everything, even when there was nothing to talk about.

That’s the reason I was in San Francisco the day I met you on the plane. ”

“You went to talk to your mom.”

She nods, smiling a little. “It’s a ridiculous thing to do when I have a brother who is alive and well who would be happy to talk to me anytime about anything, a sister who I adore, and a sister-in-law who loves gossip like it’s her job, but a few times a year, when I feel overwhelmed, I fly out to San Francisco and go sit with my parents at their graves and talk to them.

I guess it kind of keeps the pressure from rising so high it explodes. ”

“What happens when the pressure explodes?”

Amelia rests her forehead on her knees and mumbles something unintelligible, and I chuckle. It feels good to laugh. “You want to say that a little louder, Ames?”

She lifts her head and scrunches her nose, looking so disgruntled that I have to laugh again.

“I do things like accidentally create the number one app in the Redwood store without telling my brother. Or anyone else.” She heaves a sigh as my curiosity piques.

“Sorry again for making this about me when this was supposed to be all about you.”

“Mystery Girl, I’m not embarrassed to say that I’m crazy about you and sitting here telling secrets with you right now is my favorite thing on this earth. I’m going to need to know more about this app, like, yesterday.”

Amelia flops backwards and throws an arm over her eyes dramatically, her feet still planted on the couch and her knees pointed up at the ceiling. “Okay fine, but if we’re doing this, I need emotional support snacks.”

I sit up and put a hand on each of her knees, pushing her legs down until I can crawl over her, my own knees on either side of her hips and my hands pressed into the couch, bracketing her head.

I look down at her and her breath hitches, her pulse fluttering in her throat.

“Oh, we’re doing this,” I murmur, no longer talking just about her dramatic confession.

When she nods, I know she’s not just talking about her confession either.

This is happening.