Page 16 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“But Green River Academy uses traditional classrooms too, right?” I feel my own anger rising. If this is something Brody cares about, I want to care too. “They can’t shut the whole school down.”
“Not the whole school. I spend most of my time in the classroom. I’m only on the river with students twice a week. But the districtcanshut down the kayaking program.”
I am of course furious that anyone is trying to end something that Brody feels so passionately about. But mostly, I’m just in awe of his passion. So much of him is the same. He was always an amazing teacher. I should know since he’s the only reason I passed high school calculus. But he’s different too. More confident. More...settled.
“When did you start kayaking?” I blurt out, not realizing until the words are out of my mouth that I’ve interrupted something Kristyn was saying. “Sorry,” I say sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
She eyes me, her look saying she knows exactly why I wasn’t paying attention. “That’s okay. I was finished.” She looks to Brody, and he clears his throat.
He holds my gaze for a long moment. “That first summer, right after you left.” There’s something else he isn’t saying. I see it in his eyes, I just can’t make out what it is.
“We were all positive he’d die on day one,” Perry says. “He didn’t even have biceps enough to hold up a paddle.”
My eyes fly to Brody’s biceps. Those things could definitely hold up a paddle now. A paddle and a boat. A paddle and a boat with me in it. Actually, let’s forget the boat altogether. How about his biceps just hold me up?
I reach for my water and take a long drink. That feels slightly less obvious than holding the cool glass to my flushed cheeks.
“Hey now,” Brody says, but his eyes are smiling. “So I was a late bloomer. There’s no shame in that.” His gaze shifts to me, and he looks at me with that same familiar intensity. “There’s a lot about me that’s different now.”
He’s trying to tell me something. Or maybe I justwanthim to be trying to tell me something?
Do Iwantto want him to be telling me something?
Oh, good grief.I have never been this upside down over Brody. Or any guy, for that matter. We’re together, just like we’ve been thousands of times before. But even though all the same pieces are here, nothing is fitting together like it always has. It’s like I’m wearing my shoes on the wrong feet. Or my bra on the outside of my shirt. I almost feel like I need to strip everything off and start over just to figure out what I’m feeling.
Annndprobably I should not use metaphors that involve stripping when I already can’t stop noticing all the new contours of Brody’s body.
I reach up to my neckline and make sure my bra strap is covered by my shirt, like my discomfortmustbe obvious to everyone else. “I bet you’re still the nicest guy anyone knows,” I say. “You’re still looking out for your siblings. Still taking care of your friends.”
“Trying to,” he says with an easy shrug.
Perry reaches over and wordlessly pats his younger brother on the shoulder.
“You should go and see Mom as soon as you’re back in town,” Brody says. “Don’t even wait for me to get home.”
I bite my lip. I would love to see his mom. I loved Stonebrook Farm growing up. All of it. The apple orchards. The strawberry fields. The baby goats. And of course, Brody’s parents and the rest of the Hawthornes. But it’s more complicated than that. “I’m not sure she’ll want to see me,” I finally say. “She has to be upset that I didn’t come home for Grandma Nora’s funeral.”
There it is. The proverbial elephant in the room.
Except, it hasn’t reallyfeltlike there’s been an elephant in the room. I told Brody via text that I owed him an apology, and I do. But we haven’t been alone yet, and we’ve been so caught up in, well,catching up, I haven’t even thought about it.
But I’ve brought it up now, and there’s no turning back.
The elephant has finally reared its head. Stomped its foot? Trumpeted its...trunk? Whatever elephants do to get attention, it’s happening, and I can’t ignore it.
Despite the trumpeting elephant, Brody’s face softens. “She won’t care about that, Kate. She’s always loved you. She still does.”
His lack of judgment, or at least his confidence in his mother’s lack of judgment, does a little to soothe my guilty conscience, but only a little. When my grandmother died four years ago, I wasn’t in a good place. Mentally, emotionally. But it shouldn’t have mattered. I should have tried harder to get back.
Brody was at the funeral, of course. And his mama, who tended my mother and helped her take care of all the details.
“I should have been there,” I say softly.
Brody nods. “Okay. So you should have been. That doesn’t mean Mom won’t love you anymore. Or me,” he adds.
My breath catches, and I stare at my hands. I’m pretty sure if I look at Brody right now, I’ll start to cry. The certainty and unwavering acceptance of his friendship are doing strange things to my heart. Despite my hesitation, my eyes lift to his. And yep. There it is. That intense gaze that says I see you,I understand you,I know youall at once.This man and his tenderness are going to end my life this very moment.
Here lies Kate Fletcher. Melted by tenderness. And amazing biceps.
