Page 16 of Forget Me

6

MIMI

Ben’s frustrationshowed in the fluttering of his hands before he grabbed my shoulders and kissed my cheek. “Thanks for coming.”

I hugged him. “Anything for you, Benny.”

A week after Bree’s wedding, I’d dropped my Sunday-morning apartment-cleaning ritual to answer his SOS text, and he met me under the dripping overhang outside the community center where he often volunteered.

“This is a lot, Mimi. Deep breath.”

I didn’t know if he meant his last words for himself or me, but I sucked in cold air as he flung open the double metal doors to the gym with a dramatic flourish.

Inside the gym, it sounded like a Warriors game was in progress. Shouts and sneaker-squeaks echoed off the wood floors and cinder-block walls. Some teenagers—the quieter ones—screamed at each other in groups. One set was engaged in chicken fights, smaller-framed kids riding on their friends’ shoulders and whacking each other with pool noodles. Weaving among them all, both a pickup basketball game and a soccer game were in simultaneous progress.

In the far corner, Mateo wedged his broad shoulders into an ominous-looking circle growing around some disturbance.

“I was supposed to have five volunteers,” Ben shouted in my ear.

“They all stayed in bed?” I shouted back. I was starting to wish I had.

“Stomach flu. They all went to the same party on Christmas Eve. Thank God you and Mateo are here.”

I reached into my raincoat pocket for my keyring with the safety whistle on it, but I came up with something else round and metallic. I slipped it onto my thumb for safekeeping and reached into my other pocket.

When I put the whistle to my lips, Ben knew to stand back. The kids closest to us didn’t. I let out a piercing blast, and they clapped their hands over their ears.

“Hey!” I had to shout it a few times and punctuate it with a couple more shrieks from my whistle, but the ball games stopped. Mateo finally settled the fight in the corner, and fifty teenagers’ faces turned my way.

When I had their attention, I bellowed, “Listen to Ben. He’s in charge.”

Ben wisely got Mateo and the ballplayers to help him organize the kids into teams for silly relay races. I went to the other end of the gym where the introverts had peeled off and gently encouraged them to team up. If not for my brother, I’d have been tempted to join them on the bleachers and pull up my favorite Steve-and-Bucky fanfiction on my phone, but this was Ben’s day. He’d ensure everyone had fun.

It was hours later, when the kids had burned off their initial energy and had formed into groups to work on a craft and talk, that I finally leaned against a gym mat hooked to the wall. The afternoon sunlight speared through the high windows and flashed on my thumb, reminding me of the ring’s presence. Because that’s what it was, a ring. A scratched-up gold band that looked like it had seen some years.

What the hell was it doing in my pocket?

I squinted at it, and the way it caught the light creaked something open in my brain like a crowbar on a painted-shut window. My Mystery Man, his blue eyes darkly serious behind his glasses, pressing the warm circle into my palm.

“Keep it safe,” he’d said. “For me.”

I stroked it with my fingertip. I’d done a crap job of keeping it safe, forgetting it in my coat pocket. At least I still had it. But how was I supposed to get it back to my Mystery Man? I’d checked the contacts on my phone a hundred times. There was no entry forMan, MysteryorStranger, Blue-Eyed,or evenKent, Clark.

“Hello.”

I jumped and reflexively covered my thumb and the ring with my fingers. If Mateo knew what had happened at Bree’s bachelorette party, he’d go all security-specialist on me and give me a lecture on meeting men in bars when I was tipsy.

I squinted up at him, trying to mask my irritation. Fantasizing about my Mystery Man was even better than the raciest Stucky fanfic, and he’d interrupted it.

“Why are you talking to me?” I curled my lip. “At least five of those girls are over eighteen and old enough to flirt with. Don’t let me stop you.”

His blue eyes creased like I’d punched him, and guilt twinged in my belly. Why was I always such a jerk around him? He didn’t deserve it. Not always, anyway.

He gave me a tight-lipped smile. “I came to thank you for helping Ben today. I was worried about him with all these punks.”

“Punks?” I bristled. “They’re just kids. They’ve been out of school for a week and a half for the holidays, and they’re climbing the walls. Same as you and me at that age.”

“Hey.” He took a step back and put his hands in front of his chest. “I meant no offense. I was a punk like this once. I know exactly how out of hand the situation could have gotten.”

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