13. CODY

CODY

I fought to keep my eyes in my head as Dad wandered through the front door of the Nest, with Silas at his side. He rarely stepped foot in the house anymore. It reminded him too much of Mama. She was in the walls of this place, and it made him sick to his stomach.

It was written all over his face.

But this wasn’t about his feelings; it was about putting on a show for Clementine.

That alone made me angrier than it should have.

“Interesting.” Arlo approached from behind me. “I don’t remember the last time he came for family dinner.”

“He never did,” I said.

“Not even once.” He braced himself on the island beside me, dressed in a clean black shirt and jeans. We both knew well enough what was going on. Arlo had been there through all the blow ups, he was tangled in our story as much as Clementine was.

His hair was getting longer, and he had it pushed back off his face. He had shown up an hour ago with Ella on his back, giggling and smiling. For the first time, I understood the level of jealousy that others felt. I wanted that . I could hear Clementine’s laughter deep inside the sweet sound of Ella’s, and it bothered me. I curled my fingers around the edge of the counter.

“Gimmick,” I said to him. “That's all this is.”

“Maybe he’s turning a new leaf.” Arlo sank onto his elbow to catch my eyeline. “Kitten,” he warned softly. “Behave tonight, blow up tomorrow.”

“Have you met her yet?” I asked him, ignoring his wise guidance .

“No.” he shrugged. “Ella said she saw her this morning visiting the stadium. Silas took her on a tour.”

It felt like I was stuck inside a tank that was slowly filling with water and had no way out.

The water pooled around my feet, warning me of what would come.

“Behaving isn’t an option,” I said, scooping Mitchell’s bowl of salad into my arms and backing away from the island. “Sorry.”

“Cael,” Arlo growled, but followed my lead into the dining room we never used.

I leaned down, pressing my lips to Ella’s forehead. She had dressed nicer than usual, wearing a dark blue button-up and jeans. “Hey, Pretty,” I whispered, before I started toward where I usually sat.

When she was able, Mama had forced us all to partake in a family dinner once a week. She called it team bonding outside of baseball and, for all the groaning that happened when she started it, it quickly became a coveted pastime between us all—until she died.

We ate in the dining room, but never together.

And no one ever sat in her chair.

I dropped the bowl to the table. “Move, please,” I said to Clementine, who sat with her phone in her lap. Her brown hair was tugged back into a messy, short bun that left chunks of brown hair around her face.

“Excuse me?”

I held my breath as she looked up at me.

“Pick a different chair,” I said in a more polite tone as more eyes drifted to our end of the table. “Any chair but that one.”

Her head lolled to the side as she inspected me, but she made to rise and move.

“Cael.” Dad’s voice floated over the table, and I already knew he was standing in her defense. “Mary, you stay put,” he said to her in a gentler tone.

“Father,” I clipped, turning my head to look at him.

“It’s just a chair.”

Arlo groaned loudly from behind me as I straightened my posture. He knew better than anyone that the switch had been flipped, that behaving had gone out the window like a hurled brick .

“To you,” I said.

I could hear Arlo stopping Ella from rising to get between us. The legs of her chair slid against the wood flooring, but the whispers were louder than they should be, and everyone was staring.

“To us .” I looked around at the table full of sad-faced players. “That’s her chair.”

I didn’t have to say Mama because his face tightened, and he knew exactly who I was talking about.

“It’s just a chair, Cael.” He ground his teeth together after he reiterated. “She’s not here. That’s not her. Sit down and have dinner.”

“You never came to a single one of those dinners. You were always too busy in your office.”

“Cael,” Arlo tried then, as the entire team watched us reach a tipping point.

“Watch your mouth,” Dad warned.

“Now you wanna play house for her ?” I pointed to Clementine without looking away from him. If I looked at her, if I gave her that moment, it would make her real and my heart couldn’t take it. I wanted the anger, knowing sympathy was the only thing I’d find in her eyes. “Why?”

“Ms. Matthews is a guest of the University.” His hands flexed on the table, turning his knuckles white. The angrier he got, the further a piece of his dirty, graying-blond hair fell into his face.

“Ms. Matthews?” I mocked. I stood silent momentarily, mulling over his words until I inhaled and shook my head at him. “You and Ms. Matthews ,” I hissed at him, “can enjoy your lasagna. It’s Mama’s recipe.”

I stormed from the house, emotions high and tangled together, creating a monster of anger and grief as I slammed the front door behind me and sunk down onto the front steps of the Nest.

Pretty shades of dark purples and pinks danced through the streaky fall clouds, casting a blush hue over the entire world. I chipped away at the peeling paint on the steps, letting the paint slivers slide under my nails just to feel the stinging rather than the sadness eating me alive .

My body tightened when the door creaked open and her footfalls came across the deck. I knew those footsteps. They echoed in my dreams anytime there was a threat of forgetting her.

“Go back inside,” I snapped. “I don’t have the energy to be nice to you.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” Clementine paused on the porch. The sound of her inhaling filled the air.

“I’ve never been mean to you a day in our lives, Clementine.” I tugged at the strings of the bracelet on my wrist, the tangled shades of teal and lavender easily falling apart.

She scoffed and then got quiet.

“Alright, maybe just now, but…” I chewed on the inside of my mouth. “That was her spot at the table. She never used any other place, and it was a lot to see you sitting there. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” she said, settling down on the step beside me, wrapping her arms around herself in the cold breeze that had fallen over the house on the hill. “I didn’t know.”

I couldn't bring myself to look at the sunset, it would hurt me too much. Clementine could outshine the sun,and cool its heat, so the sunset didn't stand a chance against her beauty and I wasn't ready to be that sad. Not yet.

“You didn’t know what? That it was her chair, or that my Dad had turned into a raging asshole? A lot happened while you weren’t around, Plum.”

She flinched away from the use of her nickname. “You say that like I was the one to leave.”

I closed my eyes, letting her voice wash over me, and ground my teeth together because I knew she was right. Our being apart had never been her fault. It was easier to take it out on her because I had been beating my fist against the brick wall of my father’s office for seven long years.

“You didn’t come to the funeral,” I said.

“I didn’t know about it until after it was finished,” she sighed. “That should have been the first sign that something was wrong. Mr. Cody called Momma a week after the funeral to tell her it had happened.”

I turned to look at her and, as I’d predicted, the world’s colors were mute compared to the blush of her cheeks and those big, devastated, brown eyes .

Please don’t cry.

If she cried, all bets on what I might do next were off the table. It had forever been my weakness. I would cave—I always did.

“Don’t,” I said out loud, as the water welled in her eyes.

I caught the tear that rolled down her cheek before it hit her jaw and sighed.

“I’m sorry you and your Mom didn’t get to say goodbye to her,” I said, trying to control my own volatile emotions. Keeping them in check with the smell of lavender suffocating me was proving difficult.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said quietly, pushing my hand away. “You can’t do that.”

“Do what?” I could feel myself leaning into her. That invisible string tugged so tightly that it left raw abrasions in my throat.

“Pretend like there aren’t still thousands of miles between us. Even now.”

“You’re sitting in front of me, Clem.” I bit down on my tongue.

“Mary,” she corrected, and the string went slack.

“I already told you I won’t call you that,” I said slowly. She wasn’t that fake persona she wanted so desperately to hide behind. She was Clementine, and she was mine. “Especially not when we’re alone.”

“You’ve changed,” she noted again .

I chuckled quietly. “I’m exactly the same, Clementine.”

I wiggled my fingers at her and her eyes caught the frayed bracelet on my wrist. Her brows scrunched together in confusion as she looked from it to me.

“Is that?” She danced her fingertips across the disgusting thread.

“Same boy,” I confirmed. “Same bracelet.”

“No.” She shook her head as she dared to let her palm press against mine.

They fit together like they were made that way: two halves into one.

Together again.

“Same bracelet , different boy.”

“You’re wearing yours too,” I said.

“Same bracelet, different girl.”

“I don’t think you’re that different,” I whispered, inching closer to her. I just needed to feel more of her skin. “Sure, you’re louder, but you were always loud. You were just never loud for yourself. It was always in the defense of someone else.”

“For you,” she corrected me. “Always for you.” Her voice was tight as she spoke. She looked down at the bracelet like it was made of thorns.

“I was selfish back then.” I swallowed tightly thinking about Dean. “I’m selfish now. I’m sorry.”

I just wanted to kiss her, to feel her lips on mine again and remember how sweet they tasted. Leaning closer she breathed me in, her eyes trailing to my lips with slow precision as my fingers cupped her chin and tilted it toward me.

But that was selfish, too.

“Just one kiss,” I whispered, my breath hot on her lips. “Be mine again, Clementine.”

Even though I could feel her want, her need, she pulled away from me as I brought us together for the first time in seven years. Hurt danced across her soft brown eyes.

“Was I really that horrible?” I asked, folding my hands into my lap to keep from pulling her back to me. It was clearly not what she wanted or needed.

“You were never horrible, Cael. That’s the problem.”

“So what is the problem? You’re here, I’m here.” My hands flexed at my sides in a pathetic attempt to avoid brushing her hair behind her ear.

The sunset glazed her cheeks in warm pink tones and highlighted all the soft, freckled patterns that ran across the bridge of her nose. She looked like an angel.

“Our problem has never been us being together, Cael. It’s the ‘ apart’ that destroyed us.”

My brows kissed at her words. She was so sure of everything she said.

“That wasn’t our fault!” I pinned my shoulders back, feeling cornered. The hair on my arms rose, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.

“But everything else was.”