Page 29 of Tulips and Lost Time

“Kari—”

“I could have gone to the University of Texas.”

I walk to the back door of the garage and peek out into the dark yard. The moon is already out. The stars, shining above. It’s not late—a little after seven, I suppose—but the sun has abandoned us, so now the brother-sister duo are lit up by the light screwed to the back of the Turners’ house. The spotlight we begged for years and years ago, so nighttime wouldn’t mean we had to go inside.

And call me crazy, but I get the feeling Mrs. Turner was happy everyone was outside as much as humanly possible.

Kari stands in the bowl of the halfpipe, close-fitting jeans wrapped around her thighs and squeezing her tight enough, they may as well be leggings.

Which is cool and all; I’m not gonna judge a girl for what she wears. But seriously… they’re leggings, right? Leggings, made to look like jeans, so women could go to the store and pretend they weren’t, in fact, wearing leggings.

“I could go to New York,” she presses, pleading with the brother who has not, in all the years since the pair walked up the Turners’ stairs, given up on protecting her.

“I could go all the way to Phoenix. I have options, Marcus. And I’m choosing to stay near home.”

“You’re choosing to go to college and live somewhere else!”

“It’s an hour away! Stop being so dramatic.”

“Exactly! It’s an hour away. So when you’re there all alone—because the twins and Britt are still a year behind—and you have no one nearby to watch your back, an hour is a fuck-of-a long time until I can get to you.”

“You’re catastrophizing.” She turns on her heels and bends to sweep up her board. Speeding from a walk to a light jog, she makes her way up the incline and sets the deck down on the coping.

She’s going to smash herself to the bottom, all because she’s feeling defiant.

“It’s college, Marcus. A lot of people go to college once they’re done with high school. And guess what? Most people are my age when they go. They sure as hell don’t bring their big brothers along to keep an eye on things.”

“Maybe I should come.” He’s a stubborn mule, too. Dropping his hands into his pockets and stepping up onto the pipe to block her way down. I mean, she could still go, and if she hits him with her board just right, she might break his ankles.

But she wouldn’t dare.

She idolizes him, even when he infantilizes her.

“I didn’t do the college thing. Could be time I educate myself.”

“Oh, please.” She rolls her eyes and gives up on her stance at the top of the platform. Instead, she drops to her ass and dangles her legs over the side. “You’re doing your thing here, Marcus. You’re making really beautiful, special stuff. What would you do in college, anyway? An accounting degree?”

“I would be with you.” He gentles his voice and takes a step closer, staring up at the one and only person he’s tasked himself with protecting. He’s dated over the years. He’s watched his friends do the same. He would run someone down with his truck if they were giving Mrs. Turner, or, hell, any of us, trouble in the street. But Kari is where he starts and ends.

His life as he knows it began when he tossed a seven-year-old into a closet and listened while his parents were murdered, and his mother’s screams turned to a gurgle.

A gurgle to a pained gasp.

That gasp to complete silence.

And however long later, silence turned to sirens.

He doesn’t know how else to be. It’s hardly even his fault for loving her the way he does.

“An hour away, all on your own,” he groans, “is too far. It’s not safe. Especially in that city.”

“I’ll be living on campus the first year. In the dorms with all the other people my age. I’ll make friends I can actually attend class with.”

“And guys,” he groans. “Lots and lots of guys.”

“So is this about safety? Or sex? Because I’m gonna tell you, Marcus. One makes you overprotective. The other, overbearing.”

Why the fuck does thinking of Kari Macchio heading off to college and staying in the dorms where other guys will be make me sick to my stomach?

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