Page 48 of The Rowdy Ones
I sigh heavily and then give in. “She thinks my brother is possessive.”
“I see.”
“Do you agree with her?” I ask, voice rising with challenge.
“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I know he’s kind of bossy where you’re concerned. Definitely overprotective. Treats you like a child.”
Oh yeah? If that were so, then why did he almost have sex with me? Why did he touch my lip so reverently?
“But I get it,” Weston rushes out, a smile in his voice. “If I had a sibling, I’d probably be that way too. Mom is an only child as am I. She probably just doesn’t understand the family dynamic.”
This answer satisfies me. He’s right. Gwen doesn’t understand our family or the men in it. They’re protective to a fault, but that’s also what makes me love them.
“We’re here,” he announces as he parks the car. “Ready?”
I clutch onto my new white aluminum cane I was given earlier today. We practiced using it, too. At first, it was strange, but I quickly grew to like that I could walk faster with it because I could check the space around me for objects, walls, or people. The point was independence and functionality.
Weston opens the door and I climb out. I’m grateful he doesn’t snatch my arm and drag me around like some people do. If he offers his elbow, I don’t see it. Instead, I use the index finger grip on the cane handle with it facing twelve o’clock and midline with my body just like I was taught.
“Follow me,” Weston says in a teasing manner.
I listen to him yammer about school again—his go-to conversation when he wants to fill the silence with something—and use the sweeping arcs with my cane, tapping at eleven and one of my imaginary clock, making sure my area is clear to walk. It’s a little awkward at first, but I eventually manage to walk in step, tapping the ground on the opposite side of the foot doing the stepping.
I’m walking unassisted in a foreign place.
This is so cool.
The grin on my face makes my jaw hurt. I wish Mom and Dad could see me now. When I get back to the cabin later, I’ll be eager to show everyone my new way to move effortlessly.
“Hurry,” he says, excitement in his voice. “They do it every day at four on the dot.”
Confused, I hurry along, thankful for my cane.
“The entrance is here. Two steps up and I’ll have the door open for you.”
I follow his instructions and navigate the steps on my own without assistance. I’m giddy by the time we’re inside a warm building that smells like cedar.
“Through here.” His touch is gentle on my back. “Narrow doorway in three, two, one.”
Once inside another room, he shows me to a place to sit. It’s hard wood like a bench.
“What is this place?” I ask, heart pumping with anticipation.
“You’ll see. Shh.”
Seconds go by and then I hear a loud gonging sound. It takes me a second to catch on it must be a giant church bell. I’ve read about them in books but never heard one before. The cadence is persistent, each previous gong echoing into the next one. After fourteen gongs, it abruptly ends, the echoes turning soft until I can’t hear them anymore.
“Where are we?”
“St. Peter’s Cathedral,” Weston says. “My parents got married here. I’m going to get married one day here too.”
“Why fourteen gongs at four in the afternoon?”
“Before they built this cathedral, one of the priests was killed in a fire in the original church, saving fourteen children from perishing. He succumbed to smoke inhalation, but not before making sure every child was safe. It happened at four in the afternoon. Every day at this time, they honor him and the fourteen kids by ringing the bell.”
“That’s sad but also beautiful.”
“Come on,” he says, another grin in his voice. “Now I have to show you another cool place.”
