Page 61 of Flame After the Fumble

Violet tiptoes next to us. “I’m going to head next door and grab a few things I left. Hart, you’re good?”

“As good as I can be.”

I leave his side, catching a glimpse of something magnetized to the fridge. My hands fly out to the worn school picture of bleach blonde Hartley missing his two front teeth. “This is adorable.”

Snatching the picture out of my hand, he rebuttals, “I was always a charmer.” He inhales a deep breath and grips the photo harder. “I remember it like it was yesterday. Dad couldn’t bother to fill out the picture form, and it wasveryimportant to me to order school pictures.” I rub his back to urge him to continue to process the memory. “I ran to Violet’s house, sobbing about how I wouldn’t have school pictures this year. That’s when her grandpa stuffed ten dollars in my hand and scribbled onto the form.” His eyes twinkle with fondness for the man credited for raising Violet and molding him into the man he is today. “He was the best.”

“He sounds incredible. I wish I could have met him.”

“Me too.” He sticks the picture back under the magnet and turns around, gripping my hand in his.

I yank him back without thinking. “Can I keep it?”

“Keep what?”

“The picture. It’s a memory worth keeping.”

He smiles, and his dimples make an appearance. “Yeah, Goldie. You should keep it.”

The next stop on the house tour is his bedroom. Needing a little extra force to push the jammed door open, we make it through the threshold. I’m sent back in time noticing his outer space curtains and football bedding draped over his twin sized bed. There isn’t much furniture besides the bed and a few shelves drilled into the wall. The shelves house what I can only assume are Hartley’s football trophies. I walk up to them and dust off the plates to get a closer look.

I snatch one off the shelf in the shape of a microphone and flip my attention to Hartley. “Wait. Wait. Wait.”

“Here we go.” He laughs.

“You won asingingcontest? Why haven’t I heard your vocals?!” I place one hand on my jutted out hip and push the trophy into his chest.

Taking the trophy from my hand, he flips it to face him and reads the golden plate. “It was a middle school talent show.” He shakes his head back and forth, and lets out a belly laugh. “Violet wanted to enter badly, but she was terrified to perform by herself in front of a crowd. I didn’t care about making a fool out of myself, so I told her we should do a duet.”

“This is the best untold story I’ve ever heard.”

“Needless to say, I’m a winner, so we took home first place.”

“Cocky much?” Moving closer to him, I wrap my hands around his neck.

“The proof is in the plastic trophy, Goldie.”

“You’re ridiculous.” I plant a kiss on his nose and then on his lips.

“I like this,” he whispers. “Making better memories in this place.” A small smile spreads across his face. “Now when I envision my home, you’re in the memories.”

“I like the sound of that.”

After the house tour, Hartley drives us a few blocks down to a small park with overgrown grass and a rusty swing set.

“It’s locked,” I say at first sight of the gate denying us entry.

“Watch and learn.” He extends his interlaced hands in front of him, stretches, and cracks his knuckles before moseying up to the lock. Violet giggles behind us, and I begin to realize I’m missing something.

Sneaking up behind me, Violet whispers in my ear, “It’s fake.”

Hartley jolts the lock and chain down a bit, and the weight of the creaking gate flings open with reckless abandon. He gestures his arms out as if to sayladies first, so Violet and I enter and walk through the ankle high grass.

“I’ll be in my spot.” Violet flashes us a grin, waves, and jogs off to a far corner of the park.

“What’s her spot?”

“A wooden bench around the playset. It’s tucked away behind a huge oak.” He smiles, reliving a memory that they share. “There’s always a bird’s nest on one of the thinner branches that Vi likes to visit. She used to call them her children.”

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