Page 83 of South of The Skyway

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“She’s almost done,”I bragged to Noel, who sat propped in her chair. She was free of the sling, but her black cast was still harsh against her pale skin. Concealed in the shade of her umbrella, she grinned at Brexley.

“I always told you you could do it.”

Brexley rolled her eyes, then tracked my movements as I threw another ball for Josie’s youngest, a two-year-old boy named Kyler. He squealed in delight, toddling after it at full speed. He had his mother’s warm complexion, but sun-bleached blonde hair, making him the perfect Florida poster child. His giggles and insistence on playing with a Tampa Bay ball only solidified the image.

My heart gave a little ache as I spotted her with their friend, Vallie, walking back towards us with a giggling Gemma in tow. In true sibling fashion, Gemma looked nothing like her baby brother, save for their little button noses. She had her mama’s dark hair and their dad’s fair skin and green eyes, with a grin that would be agonizing to say no to.

Good luck, Josie.

“It just kind of…all came flooding back, when Rhyett started asking questions.”

“Sure, it did,” Noel sighed, fanning herself with a pamphlet. “I’m just chopped liver; I see how it is.”

“Yellingfour-k a daylike a writing drill sergeant wasn’t particularly effective,” Brex remarked teasingly. Noel threw her head back, clutching her chest like she’d been mortally wounded.

“Phew,” Vallie said as she collapsed into the shaded sand beside Noel. “Summer is on its way, isn’t it?”

“It’s not even April,” Brex complained, scowling up at the sky like the sunshine and the perfect eighty-degree day had personally affronted her. I laughed, shaking my head as Gemma threw herself around my leg.

“Mr. Ryan, Mr. Ryan—”

“Rhyett, baby. Rhy-ett,” Josie corrected, accepting Brexley’s outstretched water bottle and drinking greedily.

“Rhyett, can I have a hotdog like what you and Aunt Brex had?”

I grimaced, peering up at Josie, who shrugged in permanent resignation. Single moms were superheroes. She mouthed, “Fine with me,” and bent to grab her purse from the beach bag, but I waved her off.

“My treat,” I offered. The woman sighed as she collapsed into the sand.

“Yousodon’t have to do that,” she protested, but I could see the smile on her lips.

“I know,” I reassured. “Anything for these cuties!” I growled the last words like a monster, scooping Gemma up onto my shoulder as she squealed before snatching Kyler into my arm like a football. His laughter was enough to make my chest ache. Growing up in a big family, I’d assumed we’d all have our own brood of children by now. An old aching longing settled in my belly, pulling my focus back to Brexley, whose eyes were heavily trained on the three of us. Would she want that? A noisy house full of laughter and bickering and chaos, but so much love we didn’t know what to do with it.

I slapped on a smile and locked on Josie. “Does mama want to come, or are we off to see a man about some hot dogs?”

“By all means,” she said on a long breath that transformed into a yawn.

“Hang on tight, pumpkins,” I warned, jostling them as we rotated towards the community center.

“We’re not pumpkins,” Gemma piped up, giggling and patting my head reproachfully. Brexley’s grin was the last image in my mind before we headed off the beach.

THIRTY-EIGHT

BREXLEY

“If you don’t steal his last name, I might,” Vallie sighed, laying her head on my shoulder. Her braids scratched against sensitive, satisfied, sunburnt skin. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been at the beach long enough to burn. If Rhyett’s full lips and perfect smile hadn’t wooed the girls into complacency, his immediate love of Josie’s kids would've.

“Watch out, Wrenly, you’ve got competition,” Noel muttered, chuckling when Vallie shot her a glare. She’d yet to make a move, and I was beginning to think we’d have to conspire as a group to make it happen. Josie’s voice tugged me back to the topic at hand.

“He was born to be a father, Brex.” She sighed, watching as he ran serpentine patterns across the sand, with both kids giggling hysterically.

“He’d be great,” I agreed, sighing as Kyler’s squeal of delight faded behind the constant noise of the beach. Radios fighting for attention, kids crying, vendors barking order numbers in the distance, the omnipresent crash of waves. Tourist season was so tightly packed you could barely breathe here.

But I had to give it to Rhyett; the sand was powder fine, and his assortment of picnic supplies had been happily devoured. First by us, and then by the kids. That clear blue water was the perfect temperature for swimming in the spring.

“How has nobody on that island scooped him off the market?” Vallie demanded, not bothering to lift her head. I had a feeling she’d closed her eyes, the long week wearing us all down.

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