Page 36 of When Fate Breaks
“Brother!” I hear Kyle bellow back. “Hey, man!”
I turn to see Dad and Kyle pulling out of a hug, Kyle reaching up and ruffling my dad’s hair. “Are those some grays I see there, Jacks? Damn, we should have taken advantage of the senior citizen discount on those tickets.”
“Pfft, yeah, okay,” Dad says.
“I mean it! Should I grab you a wheelchair at the stadium entrance while we’re at it?” Kyle jokes.
“Hey, I’m a silver fox! It’s okay to be jealous, man. I get it, I look good.” Kyle rolls his eyes, laughing in response.“Tell him, babe,” Dad says, turning to Mom, but her face is buried in her cell phone like it has been since our plane landed.
“Yes, totally, babe,” Mom agrees.
“Still Ronnie?” Dad asks, referring to our hardware store manager.
“Ugh, yes,” she says. “The truck finally showed up with the week’s shipment. I swear, every time we leave town something has to go wrong. Sorry, hon. All good now!” She slips her phone back into her purse, pulling Kyle into a hug. He greets her and a yawning Steph, whose napping habits and infinite need for sleep are somehow the same at age eleven as they were at age four.
I shake my head, snapping my fingers to tell Steph to wake up, and then startle, suddenly feeling a presence just behind me. I spin around and find myself staring straight at a maroon t-shirt covered chest.
“Blake,” I blurt out, having to take a step back so I can look up at his face. “Hey.” It’s been less than six months since I last saw him, but he’s somehow grown even taller.
“Hey,” he responds, eyes trailing down to my tank top and back up, his head cocking to the side. “Where are your colors?”
“Ugh,” I say, wiping my palm down my face. “The airline lost my suitcase.”
“All of your family’s?” Blake asks, concerned etched between his brows.
“Nope. Just mine, of course,” I force out a laugh. “But, hey, don’t worry. They said they’d deliver it to the hotel in the morning. Just in time for us to head back to the airport.”
“Oh, dang. That sucks. I’m sorry,” Blake says.
“It’s okay,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “It’s just one day. I knew I should have worn my game outfit on the plane. This is what I get for wanting to be comfortable.” I look down at my old loose and ripped faded jeans and slip-on Vans. “Or just for being a lazy slob if we’re being honest here.”
“Shut up,” Blake says. “You look great. You always do.” I look up to meet his gaze, but he looks away. “Besides, it’s not like anyone will notice your team’s lack of representation anyways. Both teams are maroon.”
“Crimson,” I, and my dad from several feet away, correct him at the exact same time.
“That’s my girl,” Dad adds.
“Oh, whatever,” Blake chuckles, rolling his eyes, as we follow the rest of our families further into the garden.
When Dad found out Alabama would be playing against Boston College in an extremely rare out-of-conference game to start the football season, all it took was about thirty seconds to convince Kyle to drive his family the five hours down to Boston and make a weekend out of it. Well,weekendwas an overstatement. Steph and I started school back up last week, so in order to not miss any days this early into the school year, we flew out of Alabama at the crack of dawn this morning and would be catching the noon plane back to Montgomery tomorrow.
We casually weave our way throughout the garden, following the path and general flow of foot traffic. I realize quickly that the namegardendoesn’t do this place justice. The large park is absolutely stunning, filled with more types of flowers, shrubs, and trees than I’ve seen in my entire lifetime.
Just past the entrance, we make our way across a small lagoon on a bridge that looks like it’s straight out of a movie scene. Real swans and tourist filled boats shaped like swans dot the water below us. Though our parents keep up a steady chatter behind us, Blake and I stay quiet, taking in all of the sights and sounds.
Several minutes into our stroll, we come across a large intricate fountain in our path. Couples and families sit all around its edge as birds bathe and play in the various levels of water. As we round the fountain, a large cart with flowers for sale comes into view. I walk closer, scanning the display, Blake just on my heels. I spot a small single bouquet of baby’s breath sticking out of the bottom row and run my fingers lightly over the tiny white flower buds. I can feel Blake’s eyes on me and pull my hand away before meeting his thoughtful gaze.
“What?” I question.
“Do you like those?” he asks.
I shrug, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “They’re pretty.”
“Wow,” Blake says.
“What?”
“You like a plant,” he states.
