Page 14

Chapter fourteen

Emmett Foster

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be in New York at the same time as me?” Jason, one of the friends I occasionally play video games with and often question my sanity around, asks over the phone.

He called me after June and I finished dinner. I made the mistake of answering.

I sigh. “How was I supposed to know you’d be in New York?”

“I don’t know, maybe by looking at the group chat where I told everyone that Willow and I would be in New York this weekend for a magazine interview?” He sounds offended at first, but there’s a touch of laughter in his tone that betrays he’s not that mad.

Beard hairs scratch against my palm as I scrub my face with one hand. After playing a full game today, I’m ready to relax and go to bed early. Instead, I’m arguing with a twenty-four-year-old who behaves half his age.

“I stopped reading the group chat,” I say.

The line goes silent. I glance at my phone to see if he hung up, then put it back to my ear as he’s mid-sentence.

“--been an emergency? We’re friends, E.T. You can’t shun us completely.”

“Friends wouldn’t call me E.T.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “How many times do I have to tell everyone I hate nicknames, especially that one?”

“As many times as we have to tell you to talk to us, I’m betting.”

I sigh, letting my head fall back against the tufted hotel headboard. June lies at the foot of the bed watching Cinderella , absolutely oblivious to my argument with her ‘Uncle’ Jason. When I told her she wouldn’t have a sleepover with Hazel tonight, she cried for a good fifteen minutes. Then she fell asleep–sugar crash, probably–and woke up asking for pizza and Cinderella . Apparently, she can’t watch Rapunzel without Hazel.

My stomach tightens as I recall Hazel’s tired eyes and pink face peeking out beneath the brim of my hat. I don’t know what came over me. A boundary line was crossed by me giving her that hat. And then again when I texted one of the team managers asking them to have a jersey delivered to her hotel room before the game tomorrow.

Jason sighs, making me realize I haven’t responded.

“I don’t know why all of you are obsessed with talking. Silence is nice. Peaceful.”

“ Yeah ,” he drawls. “That’s a word I’d use to describe our group. Peaceful .”

“If we get lunch tomorrow before the game, will you quit bothering me?” I grind out.

“Only one way to find out.” The mischief in his voice is irritating.

“Fine. Pick a place and text me the address.”

“Where are we going, Daddy?” June asks, tuning in at the worst time.

“To lunch with Uncle Jason.” I sound as defeated as I feel.

“Yay! Can Miss Hazel come? I want her to meet him and Auntie Willow. She’s coming too, right?”

“Hazel?” Jason questions, immediately sounding far too curious for my liking.

“Her nanny ,” I emphasize, then look at June. “We’ll see.”

She smiles as if I said it was a done deal. “This trip is the best ever!”

I hang up on the sound of Jason chuckling in my ear. This trip is something, all right.

June plays Hazel’s door like a drum.

“We went over this,” I tell her. “Just one knock.”

She tilts her head back to look up at me. “Miss Hazel said people use knocks as secret codes in movies. I’m making a secret code.” She continues knocking.

Oh, well, when you put it that way, it makes sense.

June finishes her code with a flourish. Barely a second passes before Hazel opens the door. She must have been waiting for June to be done.

“Good morning, Miss Hazel,” June chirps. “I did a secret spy code for you like we talked about.”

“Good morning, my little super spy,” Hazel says with a laugh. She bends down to hug June. “You’ll have to tell me what your code means so that I know for the future.”

“I will, but not around Daddy. This code is just for girls.”

Hazel nods, a faux serious look on her face. “Yes, of course. You can tell me later.” She ruffles June’s hair, making her laugh.

Once she’s straightened, she looks at me. “Do I look the part today?” she asks, splaying her hands at her sides.

I look her over, something I wouldn’t normally do, but she did explicitly ask. She’s wearing white tennis shoes with a scuff on the left one. I force myself to skip her exposed legs and settle on her pale denim shorts–though that’s not much more appropriate to linger on. The hem of the jersey almost covers the shorts completely. When I sent it to her room, I knew it would be big on her, but I figured that was better than choosing a size too small. The green and white jersey looks good on her, the green brings out her eyes that are watching me expectantly. And lastly, her brown hair is in twin braids beneath my hat.

The sight of her in my hat brings about an entirely foreign and wholly unwelcome sensation in my chest. It’s similar to how I feel before a big game, but less anxious and more…warm. I don’t like it.

“Yes, you do look the part,” I answer.

A smile blossoms on her lips. It appears she’s feeling better than yesterday. While I regret giving her my hat, I am glad she rested. She needed it after the conversation I heard between her and her dad, not to mention spending the day with a hyper five-year-old in New York City.

“Now, all I have to do is learn baseball; then I can be a true fan,” she says.

I’m tempted to smile, but I refrain. I’ve gotten too comfortable. We need boundaries. Bold, extra-large Sharpie-drawn boundaries. There can’t be anymore accidental sleepovers or gifting articles of clothing. I wince internally. It sounds even worse when put that way. Yes, I need to make sure she understands I’m her boss. That’s all.

“I’m sure you’ll learn in time. Are you ready to go to lunch?”

“Yes, I’m excited to meet your friends. I’ve heard so many great things about them through Mikayla. She said they’ve treated her and Patrick like family since they moved.”

June grabs Hazel’s hand with her left, and then mine with her right as we start to walk. She doesn’t ask first. It’s natural to her, and seeing her happily swinging our arms has that feeling returning. Yet again, I’m wondering if June has gotten too attached to Hazel. She’s going to be devastated when she leaves. And she will leave , I remind myself.

“I should warn you that Jason can be…a lot,” I say as we step into the elevator.

Hazel laughs. “I’ve heard a little about his personality. I’m sure I can handle it. He can’t be too bad if you’re friends, right?”

“You’d think that,” I mutter.

“I watched Cinderella last night,” June announces before Hazel can say anything else.

It’s probably for the best. There’s no preparing for Jason. He’s always been incorrigible, but he’s been worse since he got married. I’m certain he would kiss the ground Willow walks on if she wouldn’t kick him for embarrassing her. He does everything short of that, though. Each of my friends are nauseatingly overzealous with affection for their significant others, but Jason might top them all. I don’t understand it. Even when my relationship with Shelby was good, I never had the urge to behave the way Jason does.

Brock is the only one who understands me now and laments–loudly–about how obnoxious the other three are. But it doesn’t change anything. All he gets is a chorus of ‘You’ll see’ and ‘This will be you one day.' That may be true for him, but it’s certainly not for me.

I tune back into June’s recap of the movie. “And then they kissed ,” June says. “I’m going to kiss a boy.”

My head jerks in her direction. “No, you’re not.”

Her face scrunches up. “Why not? That’s what girls and boys do. They kiss. It happens in all the princess movies.”

“You’re too young to kiss any boys, sweet pea,” Hazel says gently.

“But I’ll kiss one someday, right?”

Hazel uses her other hand to pat June’s curls. “When you’re much, much older, yes.”

“Have you kissed a boy, Miss Hazel?”

Hazel’s eyes widen. Her cheeks turn that pretty shade of pink I’ve become familiar with. She glances at me, almost too fast for me to catch.

“Yes, I have,” she says in a high-pitched tone.

The admission makes me frown. Though I’m not sure why. She’s twenty-five. It makes sense that she would have kissed a guy before. Something in me won’t allow the thought to take root though. I can’t picture her kissing anyone.

“How old were you when you kissed a boy?” June asks.

The sloth-like elevator finally creeps its way to the ground floor.

“All right, that’s enough questions,” I say to June, who frowns.

Hazel’s relief is evident as we step into the lobby. Patrons mill about, some walking to the front desk, others to the restaurant attached to the hotel, which is where we’re headed. A bellhop breezes past with a cart full of bags. We pause to let him go by, then continue the walk to Farm To Table. Apparently, the restaurant is one in an increasingly growing franchise. Jason sent me a whole article about it when he suggested the place. The article was unnecessary, as I don’t care, but I read it last night anyway in order to prevent any extra pestering on his part today.

As the three of us walk hand in hand to the host stand, I spot Jason already seated at a table. Willow is snuggled up next to him. No doubt he pulled her chair closer to his. Lovesick sap. He grins when he spots me and takes in June and Hazel. He must notice our joined hands, because his grin grows to a worrying degree.

This is going to be miserable.