Page 31 of Just Friends

Dad grunts. “Stevie can go anywhere she wants and take as much time off as she wants as long as it’s not summer or October.”

My dad runs a backcountry hiking company, and until a few years ago, he led most of the tours, sometimes spending days at a time leading overnight tours through the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Ever since Stevie started working for him as a trail guide, he’s been able to be home more and mostly run things from the office, even expanding enough to hire another tour guide last year to help out during the busy months.

The creaking of porch steps reminds me that I didn’t come home alone for a visit. Cam and Ellie are stepping onto the porch and hugging Dad, Alex trailing behind them. I feel a pinch in my chest at the sight of him. No one else would recognize the tightness of his shoulders or the faint way his eyes dart around the scene as nerves, but I see it. He’s outwardly extroverted and outgoing, but inside, he’s a little shy. He told me one time that the reason he projects himself the way he does is because he never wants someone to feel the anxiety he does when entering a new social situation. My heart tugs every time I see that barely noticeable strain in his smile that tells me he’s struggling on the inside but trying to make things easier for everyone else.

I sidle up next to him, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. A bit of the tension leaves his body, and he gives me a warm smile that feels like honey dripping down my insides.

“Come on,” I say, tugging him up the stairs. “Let me show you around.” Leaning closer, I whisper, “And no one here is going to hold anything back, so don’t feel like you need to put on a show.”

I startle at the feeling of his hand on my hip, his fingers squeezing once before he drops his arm back to his side.

“Alex, nice to see you again,” Dad says, reaching out a hand to shake.

“Nice to see you too, sir.” That easy smile is back on Alex’s face, the tension gone from his shoulders, and I know he’s relaxed. I wonder if that small touch helped. My skin is still burning from it, and I don’t know what to make of that.

“Where’s Mom?” Cam asks.

“She’s finishing up a few things at the shop with Aunt Jamie, but she’ll be here for dinner.”

Cam’s eyes swing to Stevie, who is leaning up against one of the porch pillars. “Did you make lasagna?”

She grins. “Sure did.”

We make our way inside to the heavy scents of tomato and garlic and the underlying smell of the apple candles my mom makes in her shop. The walls are covered in floral wallpaper, and the floors are thin original hardwoods that creak with every step. Shades of azure, rose, periwinkle, saffron, vermilion, jade, and marigold color the room from the wildflower stained-glass window at the front of the house.

Stepping into the farmhouse is like stepping back to a time when my pigtails bounced against the back of my grass-stained overalls, flecks of paint stuck to my skin, and freckles dotted my cheeks from too much time in the sun without sunscreen. It’s weird to think about how much I’ve changed when this house feels frozen in time. A relic to days gone by.

“Hey,” Uncle Anthony says from where he’s tossing a salad behind the counter when we enter the kitchen, his white teeth bright against his suntanned skin. “Welcome, kids.”

The kitchen is too small for all of us, and I find myself pressed up against Alex as Stevie shuffles through the group to get to the stove. We’re chest to chest, every inch of exposed skin already turning sticky from the humidity blowing in through the open windows. My gaze drifts up the expanse of his chest and over the strong, lean line of his neck to meet those piercing brown eyes.

“You doing okay?” I ask him, the murmur lost in the sliver of space between us, quiet enough that no one but the two of us can hear.

His head bobs in a nod, and his lips curve in a soft smile that I can tell isn’t just for my benefit. It makes something warm beneath my sternum that he feels comfortable here, in this cluttered farmhouse with my chaotic family, when I know that his own childhood was quiet and orderly, filled with exotic vacations and expensive dinners.

“What are everyone’s plans for this weekend?”

With Stevie back at the stove and Dad settling into a chair at the table, there’s enough room to move around. I plop into one of the squeaky bar stools at the counter and motion for Alex to take the one next to me. Snatching a grape tomato from the salad bowl, I pop it into my mouth, savoring the rich, sweet taste.

I say, “Well, tomorrow we have to go to the yard sale.”

“I’m perfectly fine with missing the yard sale,” Cam says, sitting in one of the chairs at the table and pulling Ellie onto his lap.

Spinning around, I pin him with a glare. “Youcannotmiss the yard sale, Camden.”

A chuckle escapes him. “And whyever not?”

“It’s a town tradition,” I tell him, injecting my voice with as much incredulity as I can muster.

“So is running naked through the cemetery on Halloween, so I don’t think all traditions need to be enforced.”

“Didyouever participate in that tradition?” Ellie asks, eyebrows arching.

Cam snorts. “Absolutely not.” Then his eyes light up, focusing on me. “But Hazel did.”

I can feel Dad’s stare hot on the side of my face. “Hazel did not.”

Cam laughs, launching into his and Ellie’s plans for the next few days. Alex leans over, his breath tickling the side of my face as he whispers, “Hazel most definitely did, didn’t she?”

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