Page 17 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
When I open my mouth to speak, Brody gives his head the slightest shake, his eyes darting over to his brother.
Not here,his eyes tell me.
I nod my understanding. We need to have this conversation, but we don’t need to do it here, with Perry and Kristyn as a captive audience. The thing is, Iwouldhave the conversation. Say the hard things no matter who is listening in. The discomfort of doing so would be a small price to pay to make things right between us. But all these years later, Brody is still looking out for me.
“I’ll go see your mom,” I say. “I promise.”
I look over at Kristyn, who has been observing our exchange with raised eyebrows. “I’ll take you with me. I’d love for you to see the place.”
For the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m actually looking forward to goinghome.
Chapter Six
Brody
I can already sensethe struggle it’s going to be to maintain perspective with Kate around full time.
It’s only been a few hours, and already, for every ounce of control I hold onto, two more ounces slip away. I feel like I’m on a tilt-a-whirl at the county fair, trying to keep a mug of coffee from spilling over the sides. The coffee is my resolve, and it’s splashing all over my shoes.
Logically, I know the likelihood of Kate suddenly growing feelings she’s never had before is slim. Kate loves me like a brother. She always has. But remembering that was easier when she was thousands of miles away.
Now she’s back.
Here. Present.
Sitting right across the table from me, laughing and smiling over chips and salsa.
In her short cargo shorts and tank top, Kate looks like she should be modeling for an outdoor catalog. Her shoulders are toned and tanned, freckles speckling her skin just like they used to whenever she spent time in the sun. It’s the strangest thingto look at her and simultaneously see the little girl she was—the one who quizzed me with math problems on the school bus—and the woman she is now.
Perry and Kristyn have both gone back to the hotel, leaving Kate and me to have dessert just the two of us. The waitress’s eyes go wide when I ask for two servings of churros in addition to the one Kate ordered for herself, but I could probably eat fifteen churros and still be under my caloric need. There’s no way to ever eat enough when you’re hiking sixteen or seventeen miles a day.
“He just got off the Appalachian Trail,” Kate says to the waitress. “He’d eat everything in the restaurant if you let him.”
The waitress nods knowingly. “Ah. Got it. I’ll be right back.”
Kate shakes her head at me, and I grin. “You’re lucky I only ordered one extra.”
“What you probably ought to be eating is extra protein. Or some carbs with a little more substance to them.”
“Okay,Perry.”
She scoffs playfully. “You did not just call me Perry.”
I smirk. “I’ve been eating oatmeal cooked in a Ziploc bag for three days, Kate. Let me enjoy my dessert.”
Her eyes dance as she smiles, her expression bright. “When I hiked Kilimanjaro, my guides were constantly making me eat. Even more than I thought I needed to.”
“When you hiked Kilimanjaro, huh? You’re going to just throw that out there like it’s something anyone can relate to?”
She rolls her eyes. “Shut up. I’m not the only person who has ever hiked it. We’re relating here, Brody. You hike. I hike. I’m making conversation.”
“I loved the piece you wrote about Kilimanjaro.”
“You read it?”
That, and everything else she’s ever written, all the way down to the responses on her Instagram comments. “Iread it,” I finally say.
She breathes out a sigh. “It was a great trip.” Her gaze shifts to the window behind us. We have a clear view of the rolling blue and green mountains in the distance. “What about the Appalachian Trail?” she asks. “Would that make a good story?”
