Page 87 of The Older Brother
When Cami tried to turn our one night into a weekend, Rowan literally carried her out of his home and to her car. Hehad other plans, though he and I also spent the entire last day together in bed. There were zero snacks involved, however.
The rumpled sheets beneath my bag are practically begging me to crawl back under them, but Rowan’s right. I deserve this opportunity. I may not love swimming the way I once did, but it’s a tool I can use. And maybe now that the clouds have lifted to some degree, I’ll find the joy again. I’ve already started to hear music in my head when I swim, rather than the blank nothing that I forced in before.
“It’s time.” Rowan’s arms wrap around my body, and I grab onto his wrists to hold him tight like a safety harness that will keep me safe.
“Remind me again, when will I see you?” I tilt my head to gaze up at him, and he drops a kiss to my lips.
“In one week. And then I’ll make it every other weekend. And if you call, I’ll always be a two-hour drive away. I promise.” He nuzzles the tip of his nose against mine, then squeezes me one last time before letting go.
“And why do you promise?” I love fishing for it, and he always obliges.
Glancing over his shoulder before hoisting my bag, he meets my gaze and winks. “Because I love you, Saylor Kelly. Because I’minlove with you.”
“Oh yeah,” I hum, my forever smile like a tattoo when I’m around him.
I follow him out his door, waiting while he locks up, then we hold hands as we make it to the garage. Cami leaps from the couch and rushes at me like one of those tree frogs that fly from branch to branch. I catch her as she wraps her legs around me, and I spin her a few times until we’re both dizzy.
“I’ll see you in two weeks, right? I’ll be there for rush week, in case you decide you want to be a Delta, too.” She draws a triangle over my chest, and I laugh as I shake my head.
“I won’t change my mind, but I’m excited for your visit. Good luck on your bid, though.” My friend has decided she’s going to fill her social calendar with sorority parties in my absence. I don’t know that she’ll gel the way she hopes to, but if it keeps her from crawling back to her ex and motivates her to study, I support it.
“Your keys, ma’am,” Mig says, holding out my trusty Toyota keychain. He gave my car a tune-up on the house before I head up north. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to make these wheels last, and the prospect of a new one isdefinitelynot in the cards now that most of my mom’s assets have been frozen. My father offered to get me a decent used car, but I think I’d rather find a way to do this on my own. I may change my tune when my car conks out on an icy hill, however.
I hug Mig and Jersey before turning back to face Rowan as he holds my driver’s door open. He’s following me up to my dorm with Mig’s truck, which is loaded with the rest of my things. I’m not used to cold weather, so I may have gone overboard in the sweatpants department. And my blanket game is on point as well. Between winterwear and the mini fridge, my dorm essentials have taken over most of the spare space in the cab and the bed.
I slip into my car, and Rowan closes the door halfway, leaning over the opening and meeting my gaze to make sure I’m ready for the hardest part yet to come.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I hold his stare for a breath and consider backing out, but I know it will only fester in my heart if I don’t make a stop to see my mom before I leave for college.
I nod.
“I need to do this,” I say.
“Okay. You’re the boss,” he says with a smile. “I’ll follow you.”
He pushes my door shut, then kisses his fingers and taps them on the window. I touch the same spot and watch him walk behind me toward Mig’s truck. How did I get so lucky? How am I the girl that made him fall? His tall, lean body is cast straight out of a Hollywood romance, and the way his hair has grown out over the last three months makes him even more appealing, especially when he runs his hand through the waves like he is right now. I bite my lip and catch the last possible glimpse of him before he steps into the truck and cranks the engine.
I back up along with him, and he waits as I pull out so I can set the pace. I’m not sure if I would rather speed there to get this over with or take my time to put it off. It’s going to happen either way, I guess. So, I stick to the limit on the highway and on every road until I’m parked in front of the house I grew up in.
Rowan sits in the truck parked behind me, the engine idling as I get out and step onto the sidewalk to meet his waiting gaze. He gives me a thumbs up, and I flash one back in return, though that gesture feels minuscule for the task at hand.
“You got this, Saylor,” I say to myself, blowing out a heavy breath and relaxing my shoulders as I straighten my spine.
I march up the pathway to my old front door, and rather than ringing the bell, I simply push it open. I figured it would be unlocked. My mom said she would be waiting for me when I texted her. And she’s sitting on the center of the tan sofa with a magazine open on her lap when I step inside. Her face lights up, but my focus zips right to the ankle bracelet locked above her right foot.
“Well, this is it,” I say, walking across the empty room toward her. She gets to her feet and tosses the magazine to the side, but kneads her hands together nervously rather than reaching for a hug. We’ve never been physically affectionate, so it’s for the best. It would feel forced if we hugged right now. We need to work on getting better with words first.
“I like the couch,” I say, gesturing to the very basic sofa. They repossessed most of our furnishings as part of the deal my mom made. She gets to keep the house, which is mostly paid for, but it’s a shell of what it was. I think there’s a bed in her room, my old furniture in mine, and then this sofa. I can see beyond her to the dining room, and it looks like there’s a folding table set up with a tablecloth over it to dress things up.
“It’s all only temporary. I’ll bounce back. You know me.” She seems so sure of her plans, which, why wouldn’t she be? That’s where my mom excels. Goal setting and action steps, that’s the Allison Kelly way.
“I know you will. Maybe it’s your chance to change up the place, too. Try a little color and less leather,” I suggest. My mom scrunches her nose, sticking with her expensive and very boring taste. Maybe my next olive branch to her will be a pink flamingo statue or a bright blue throw pillow.
“You said they’ll stream your swim meets when they start, right? And I can find them on the website?”
I nod.
“I’ll make sure to text you the link each time,” I say, almost forgetting the promise the minute I utter the words. She hasn’t watched me swim in years.
