Between Everything and Us Page 22

  I steer her away from the parking lot toward ground traffic instead. I’m trying to rest before the game. Taking the bike just didn’t make sense. I can’t lose this opportunity.

  “No bike? I really wanted to try that out.”

  It’s going to be a long few days. I swallow nervously and shake my head, pushing her out the door. Maybe I should get her an earlier ticket and send her back home. I haven’t seen her since last spring, and though we chat a lot, seeing her in person is completely overwhelming.

  “We’re taking a cab today. Maybe we’ll go on a ride tomorrow.”

  She jumps into the cab seat excitedly and rattles off my address. That’s the first time I realize my baby sister isn’t much of a baby anymore. The second reminder is the smile on her face when she texts, stifling a giggle. She’s got that dopey love smile on her face, the one I’ve caught myself wearing lately.

  Mati sends a text before I can start my my brotherly inquisition. All set?

  I glance over at Quinn while she takes a series of selfies, perfecting the duck face.

  I think so, I reply. I ignore the call from Coach from earlier. I’ll see you tonight?

  I hold my breath, waiting for her answer. After our fight last night, I’m not sure I deserve for her to be at the game. I was an asshole again for no reason. I can’t even remember why I was mad—I just was, pissed that she kept dancing around my room while I was exhausted, stuck in bed. I can’t blame her for wanting to stay away today, but it’s important to me that she sees that I can do this. I want to believe that I’m able to play, even if it’s only once.

  “I think you have something to tell me.” Quinn stretches, then starts digging through her purse.

  “I like your hair?” I tease.

  “It’s only fair, you know. You have to be honest with me.”

  I settle back into the corner of the cab and watch while she smears on the fruitiest lip gloss I’ve ever smelled. I’ve got lots of secrets, so I’m not sure which one I’m supposed to confess to.

  The grin on her face makes me dread what’s coming next. “So you’re not back with Reagan, right?”

  I fight back a nervous smile. “No.”

  “Then there’s someone…new?” She flails in her seat at my silence, squeeing. “I knew it, I knew it. You’re back playing hockey and taking classes, and now there’s a girl. So tell me everything.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You didn’t have to, Beau. It’s written all over your face.”

  My phone vibrates with another text from Mati.

  I’ll be there. Knock ’em dead, handsome.

  “And you’re in love,” my sister yells, shoving against my shoulder.

  I don’t deny it.

  ***

  I keep my head down as the rest of the guys gear up in the locker room. I don’t know much about them, but Coach made sure everyone watched videos of some of my past games. No one’s gone out of their way to say so, which is good. I’d rather pretend that didn’t happen. It’s a weird place to be when you’re jealous of yourself.

  I’ve practiced with them a few times. I’m not sure we work well together as a team should, but this is recreational. There aren’t going to be scouts out in crowd; I’m not going to get scholarship offers or modeling gigs. That’s probably for the best. I hated them anyway, but my sleeves and bike were worth the humiliation.

  Tonight is the first time I’m on the ice solely because I love it. I’ve forgotten how simple that can be.

  So when the anthem ends, my nerves calm. I don’t have to prove anything to anyone tonight besides myself. I don’t need to hide. Playing hockey again isn’t impossible; it’s only an obstacle with its own set of challenges.

  The music blares and cheers erupts. My blades hit the ice, and the world settles around me into something I can understand for twelve minutes. I weave between players, pushing myself to skate faster, surprised my footwork isn’t shitty like I was expecting it to be. It was always my strength. When the puck comes my way, I fight to get control, then feel so fucking happy I could die when nail a slapshot.

  The years away mean nothing. The tests and rounds of medications, the relapses, the good days, the bad. Right now, here on the ice, this is the most perfect I can hope for and it’s enough.

  For twelve minutes, I remember who I am.

  Matisse

  Quinn is fixated on her brother as he plays. I am, too.

  She explains that it takes a special defenseman to be able to play the ice so well. It makes me happy to see him this happy. And I won’t lie—it’s hot as hell to see him play, especially when he skates again during third period and gets into a fight with a player from the other team. It’s against the rules apparently, but it’s magic to see him out there so alive, especially when he’s been so grumpy lately.

  The crowd thins out at the end of the game, and Quinn leads me down to the bench where Beau is chatting with that bulldog coach again. They’re having a serious discussion, a good one because the older guy throws his hand to Beau’s shoulder and gives him an awkward man-hug.

  Beau spots us, and the happiness that brightens his eyes makes my stomach drop.

  “Want to go out, get pizza or something?” he asks, coming closer.

  Sweat trickles off his brow and mixes with the blood slowly stemming from the cut above his eye and across the bridge of his nose.

  I hold back my questions. I know he doesn’t want them, but I’m nervous all the same. I don’t want to ignore the fact that he just played hockey and looks exhausted, either.

  His shoulders rise and drop in quick intervals as he catches his breath. Beau glances between me and his sister. “Really? No one for pizza?”

  Then his smile fades. Quinn stands beside me, her face blotchy as she silently cries.

  “You were so good, Beau” she whispers.

  He gathers her into a hug, my heart melting at the pair of them, for this tiny moment that speaks of something I never had. I never belonged, but I’m learning Beau belongs to a lot of places—to a lot of people—even to me now.

  Our eyes meet over Quinn’s head tucked against his chest. I fall a little more in love with him and the way his eyes are full of hope and understanding and affection. He’s comforting her, but watching me as if I’m there in his arms, too.

  He bends down and whispers something into Quinn’s ear. She bursts out laughing and spins around to me.

  “Will you go out with us, Mati?”

  The answer is obvious, but I’m too distracted by him, by these intense feelings of want and worry coursing through me.

  Beau hauls me closer. “Too busy?” he teases. He runs the tip of his nose against the side of my face, then whispers in my ear, “Say yes. Please? I’ll beg.”

  When I turn my head, his lips trap mine and the world melts away. His teammates cheer in the background and I think it’s Quinn who begins to clap, but he doesn’t stop and I don’t pull away. We’re allowed this moment now, out in the open, for everyone to see.

  I reach into my pocket for a tissue and wiggle out of his hold to clean up his face. “You’re bleeding.”

  His eyes are pinned to me, his hands braced on my waist. “How’d I do?”

  I press the tissue to his cut to stem the blood. “Fishing for compliments?”

  His hands tighten over my waist. “Have some to dish out?”

  I ignore his charming dimple and playfully push back his face, jumping when he licks, then softly nips the center of my palm.

  “Count me in for pizza,” I say to Quinn, then shout over my shoulder at Beau as she and I head outside, “Get cleaned up, Beau, you’re all gross.”

  ***

  We decide to go back to the house first so Beau can get rid of his gear. While he takes a shower, Quinn and I hang out in my room. I’ve never had a sibling, but I’m not stupid. I get that I’m being tested out.

  To her credit, she’s nice about it. She asks about my major and wants to see some of my paint
ings. I show her the nearly finished invite I’m working on for Kim.

  “So how did you meet, Beau? How did he ask you out? I want to know everything.”

  I’m saved from having to answer, thankfully, when he calls from the bathroom.

  In my mind, I think of the worst. I hope this isn’t permanently how I react. I hope it’s temporary until we figure us out. I didn’t think dating Beau would change much, but it changes everything. It’s more and overwhelming, and I love that we aren’t shutting each other out anymore. Still, it’s weird to let someone in your life in such an intimate way.

  I peek my head into the steamy bathroom. “What’s the matter?”

  He wrenches the door open and pulls me against him wearing only a towel. It’s not hiding much.

  “Nothing besides that I want you. Now.”

  My hands rest against his chest, the smell of his soap spinning around me. His wet hair drips between us as he bends his head, waiting for my answer.

  “I might be too tired later. Please.”

  “I’m not saying no.” I kiss him, long and slow, until we get caught up and he sets me on the sink, about to undo his towel. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his raw knuckles and that cut that keeps bleeding. “Let me clean these up first,” I say, ducking out of his hold for the first aid kit in the cabinet.

  “You’re such a buzzkill, Evans.”

  I grin, pointing to the sink. “Stand there and be quiet.”

  “Oh, is this new? Are you going to boss me around?”

  I chuckle. The big tease. “I’ll wash your mouth out if you keep it up. Give me your hand.”

  He does, but I don’t miss his heated stare. I clean up his knuckles, ready to spread some bacitracin over his skin, when the words press at my lips and escape. “You were really great out there today.”

  He tugs at my finger so I look up. “Yeah?”

  I nod. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Me, too. Can I show you?”

  I wrap my hand behind his head and draw his face closer so I can finally fix the cut above his eyebrow. “You’re such a cocky asshole.”

  He waggles his eyebrows. “But I’m your cocky asshole.” His hand curves around my waist and slips beneath my jeans to grip my ass.

  We’re mid-kiss when a knock at the bathroom door interrupts us. “Beau?”

  Quinn’s crying. Seems the mysterious texting all weekend had something to do with her now ex-boyfriend, Ben.

  Three hours later, we’re still home, everyone in their pajamas. Beau has his head in my lap, quietly suffering from another migraine that he won’t fully admit to, and Quinn’s curled up on my other side, newly single and utterly heartbroken.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Matisse

  When Kim emailed two weeks ago to thank me for her wedding invites, I thought that was going to be that. I had a few more requests afterward, and now I officially have more. But I never expected to see what I did in my inbox when I woke up today: thirty-seven messages.

  Some style blog posted a picture of the artwork I painted for the wedding invites, then it was posted on Facebook and Pinterest and went viral.

  Forty-three messages.

  Holy. Shit.

  I rush to Beau’s room, then pause, catching him napping over a stack of maps and open textbooks.

  I softly shut the door and creep over to the bed. “Beau.”

  His eyes flutter open, and a sleepy smile spreads across his face. “Hey, you.”

  “You’re drooling over our national parks.”

  “Midterms are killing me,” he groans. “Remind me why I want a master’s again?”

  I bend down and kiss his cheek, brushing my fingers through his messy hair. “Because you want to change the world, too. Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

  “I won’t lie. I like having to study again.”

  “Nerd.”

  Beau’s laugh is cut short with a stretching yawn. “Tell me. You’re grinning. What did you conquer now?”

  This strange feeling rips at my chest—pride, maybe, or reassurance. I trusted my gut for once, and now I have something to show for it. After my long list of failures, it feels amazing.

  “One of my wedding invites went viral.”

  “No shit?”

  I grin, pulling my phone out of my sweatshirt. I hold it up, showing off my cluttered inbox. “No shit.”

  My hand is shaking from the excitement coursing through me. I have no idea how I’ll juggle this on top of everything, but I’ll figure that out. One thing at a time. There are people who not only like my work, but want to pay me for it.

  He sits up and gathers me close for a hug, kissing the top of my head. I settle against his chest, wrapped up in him as he arranges the maps in front of us. “I’m proud of you, baby.”

  I snuggle close and kiss the back of his hand, happy but afraid to let go.

  “I knew you’d take over the world one day.”

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Beau. It’s only some extra money, some side projects.”

  “It’s just the start for you.” He brushes the hair back from my neck and kisses it. “Where to next, world conqueror? Where are we going for spring break?”

  Beau

  I like the view of Portland in my side mirror. I like it more because Mati’s face is smiling back at me as we tear out of town before sunrise. I’m going to make the most of spring break with her.

  We have each other, my bike, and a tent. The rest we’ll figure out. The only plans we agreed to make were which national parks to hit up: Gifford Pinchot National Forest, Mount Rainier National Park, Okanogan-Wenatchee National Forest, Olympic National Park, and finally Mount Hood National Forest before we head home.

  When we pull up to Cannon Beach, the sky is still tinged with pink above the horizon. The whitecaps swell, half-hidden by a rolling fog. The large rocks hold everything together, dark markers dotting the coastline. They’re giants, and at their feet lies a gorgeous beach that Mati rushes off to without waiting.

  She races across the sand, her arms spread wide, as though she is going to run straight into the surf to give the ocean a hug. I laugh to myself, my eyes glued to the sight of her as I slowly stroll to catch up. I worry that I’ll ruin the moment if I give chase, so I’m patient.

  The seagulls spook and flutter into the air at her approach. She leaves an empty beach in her wake, punctuated with determined boot steps set in a wild forward march.

  “Hurry up,” she yells, her hands cupped around her mouth. “You’ll miss it.”

  I don’t know what she means, but I quicken my steps and awkwardly lumber toward her. It feels great to run, so I push my body, losing myself into the familiar burn. I’ve been swimming almost every day now, but I haven’t run like I used to in ages. I race past her, only stopping when she follows and tackle-hugs me from behind.

  I swing her around, the water threatening to wash up to our feet.

  “Beau! Put me down.” The sound of her laugh is the perfect match to the crashing waves, the seagull cries, the brightness of early morning breaking. She fits out here. And I’m starting to realize that I fit with her. That we’re something real, something solid. Somewhere along these months as roommates, and now a couple, she’s become way, way more.

  I swing her out as if I’m going to toss her in the ocean, laughing at her giddy screams. And just as quickly, I swing her back and hold her tight, kissing the spot below her beanie that’s drooping over her eyebrows.

  “What am I going to miss?” I rock us back and forth, closer to the ocean, closer to the edge.

  Those red lips of hers spread into a wicked smile, her eyes lit up with mischief. “Oh, everything,” she says on a soft whisper. “We could miss everything.”

  We still and I’m lost in her eyes, in the way they hold me to the present. I’ve always liked the way she smiles with them.

  “I’m not in a hurry, are you?”

  She ti
lts her head back to gaze up at me and places her thumb over my dimple. I wait for her to speak, but she stays silent, a dreamy grin the only answer I’m getting apparently.

  “We already missed the pink disappear.” She peers over my shoulder, then pushes away to spin me around toward the horizon. “It’s morning now. The sun will be up soon.”

  Mati looks down at our reflections softly rippling over the wet sand. “Do you believe in good days, Beau?”

  She plays with the tip of her boot, adding pressure so the water disappears underfoot, then floods back when she releases her foot.

  I’m fixated on her, on this wild version of Mati. I guess I missed this in Portland in between everything else, in between us and the rest of the world. I let go of her hand and step away. Maybe by taking our time, we’ll miss things, but moments like this, watching her become full on the adventure of life she’d forgotten about, is enough to knock me off my feet. I want my fill of this, too.

  “Sure.”

  The salty wind blows her hair across her face—black, red, and emerald. I love these colors—the army green of her coat, the gray of her beanie, the purple and yellow of her scarf. I love the funny sound she makes when she attempts to blow away the hair that sticks to her coffee-flavored lip gloss and the funny face she makes when she fails.

  I wipe it away from her mouth, then take her hand to head back to the bike.

  “Today is going to be one,” she says. I face her in time to see her cheeks rounded and her eyes happy. “It’ll be only us and the best day ever.”

  ***

  “We have to slow down.” I rest against a pine tree wide enough for a smart car to fit into. I hate myself for it. I don’t want to ruin this trip.

  “You okay?” At least Mati doesn’t have pity in her eyes when she spins around. “Sit down, we’ll take a break. My feet are killing me anyway.”

  “I told you to break those in first.” I try to hide my hand shaking as I reach back for my water bottle. My clumsy attempt sends it flying into the dirt. “Fuck.” I feel her eyes on me but manage to hold back my flaring temper. I pick it up and brush off the pine needles, avoiding her eyes, then take a long sip.