Page 21 of Just Say When

If you don’t stop crying when I leave, I’m not going to come see you anymore. My dad said that when I was seven, during one of his infrequent visits. It had worked. I stopped crying. But his visits remained as sporadic as ever.

I learned from that, too.

I cried a lot when I realized Brax and I would never go back to the way we used to be. It had broken my heart. But I never let him see that. I knew it wouldn’t do any good, anyway.

So I just…stopped. Stopped asking for his attention. Stopped expecting him to care. Eventually, I stopped talking to him altogether, other than forced civilities. Somewhere along the way that civility turned into purposeful antagonization. In my defense, he started it.

But I couldn’t resist egging him on.

Even though, deep down, I knew it was because I still craved his attention, however I could get it.

Fifteen yearsago

I propped my socked feet on the dash, making myself comfortable for the forty-minute drive to the trailhead. I had kicked off my Chucks the second I had slid into the passenger side of Brax’s old Ford pickup. One hand floated out the window—Brax’s truck pre-dated air conditioning—catching the hot breeze on my fingertips, while the other rested on the bench seat between us.

Perfect.

Not just because the red brick school building was in the rearview mirror, although that didn’t hurt. I preferred to think of myself as running toward something rather than running away from anything. It was something my dad liked to say.If you spend your life running away, your past will always be chasing you, dictating every move you make. Run toward your future, baby girl, and you’ll make yourself a life worth living.

Dad was always running toward something. Not me. Or my brother. Or my mom. We were the things he saw in his rearview mirror as he ran toward whatever exciting thing caught his attention. There was always something.

It was shitty of him. I knew it was shitty. But,damn. What a way to live. Pure freedom. That was what Iwanted for myself. Minus the whole teen pregnancy and subsequent abandonment of offspring, of course.

So right now, I wasn’t runningawayfrom school. I was runningtowardan afternoon of fun with my favorite person in the world.

“Aren’t you happy we did this?” I asked, unable to keep the smile off my face.

Brax paused for a beat. “Yes.”

I studied his profile, wondering what internal calculation had made him hesitate before coming to, in my humble opinion, the only correct response. It couldn’t be the school part. Final grades had already been turned in. I was once again looking at a B- average. Brax had straight A’s. He was the top student in our class, and I had no doubt that next year, he’d be the valedictorian. It wasn’t even close.

He just didn’t like breaking a promise to Jack. That was my guess. Fortunately, the pleasure of my company outweighed such pesky details. I hoped.

I loved Jack. Next to Brax, he was my best friend. But despite sharing a womb for nine months, we didn’t have a lot in common. We didn’t have the same taste in food, or music, or hobbies. Brax was the only thing we shared.

Most of the time that was fine. Despite our lack of common interests, we got along great. The three of us were always together. Whatever trouble I was quick to get us into, Brax and Jack were just as quick to get us outof. I felt good having them both with me. Safe. Indestructible.

But honestly, sometimes I wasn’t in a sharing mood.

Like now.

Between school and chores at his family’s ranch, Brax had always been busy, but now that he’d taken a part-time job with the only lawyer in Aspen Springs, it felt like I never saw him anymore. And when Ididsee him, Jack was right there, too.

That never used to bother me. But lately…lately it did.

Like he felt the weight of my thoughts, Brax found my hand on the seat between us and tapped my knuckles with his index finger, his eyes never leaving the road. “What?”

“What do you mean, what?” I asked.

“You’re staring at me. And you haven’t spoken a single word for five minutes. It gives me a spooky feeling, like the calm before a storm.”

I laughed. “You can relax. There’s no storm brewing. I was just thinking, that’s all. Summer’s coming.”

His left hand twisted on the wheel. His right hand was still on the bench, not actually touching mine, but so close I could swear the tiny hairs on our fingers brushed each other’s like an electric current.

“You got the rodeos planned out?” he asked.

“Hell, yeah, I do.” I grinned.

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