Chapter 44

chapter

forty-four

OWEN

My phone flashes as I take a pull from my beer. It spills down my chin as I hurriedly reach for it, only to be disappointed it's not from Addie.

NATE

You going to the Halloween party at the Tap tomorrow night?

I'm not in the mood for festivities. For once, I'm not in the mood for a good time.

Don't think so. No costume.

Don't you wear a costume every day, or is that just your face?

"Ass," I mutter with a chuckle. It's not a hearty one, but it's better than the frown I've been wearing for the last few days.

I suck back another fizzy pull and sigh.

I went by Addie's house last night after family dinner at my parents', but she wasn't home. According to her social media—a moment of stalking I was not proud of—she was celebrating Caroline's move back to Sapphire Creek.

Addie and I haven't had any moment alone at school this week. I've barely seen her at all, since she's been busy organizing her classroom. She's never in the teachers' lounge when I'm in there, and her car always sits empty in the parking lot at the end of each day.

School wouldn't have been the most appropriate place to air out our issues, anyway, but at least I could've told her how much I fucking miss her.

It didn't help that my family stared at me during the entirety of dinner last night like I'm a hopeless loser.

A knock on the door lifts my damn soul, and again, I spill my beer on my shorts as I tear it from my mouth mid-sip.

Swiping at it with the back of my hand is futile, but I still do it as I saunter toward the door and open it.

Little eyes blink back at me, and my chest warms as Whitney blazes inside, Huck on her hip.

"I need to pee." She passes the baby over like a hot potato, slings the diaper bag against the wall, and races toward the bathroom.

"I'll have to teach you better manners than your mom's," I say to the little man.

Bouncing him against my shoulder, I walk us to the couch, and he twists my shirt in his tiny fist. The sounds he makes are incoherent, but I can tell he can't wait to talk.

"You'll be speaking in full sentences before we know it," I whisper. "All in good time. No need to rush. You're young and carefree."

What I want to tell him is to stay this little and innocent for as long as possible. It's what I've thought with each pound he gains, because time is moving too quickly.

"What are you saying to him?" Whitney plops onto the couch next to us. "You better not be telling him anything about love, because that's not your strong suit."

"Never said it was," I toss back. "Wait. Why are you jumping to love so quickly? I could've been telling him about the burrito I had for lunch. It was one of the best I've ever had."

Whit studies me, her tongue in her cheek. "Plausible, but I'm sticking with love, especially after last night."

"Nothing happened last night."

"Exactly. You made no joke about Lottie's orange highlights, which she did seriously and not ironically for Halloween. She looked like a prop at a haunted house."

The idea of zombies at a haunted house reminds me of Addie's date she'd told me about during our night in Savannah. Everything fucking reminds me of her.

"I was being supportive," I argue, but my voice isn't as strong as I'd like.

"Is that why you didn't chime in when Dad let me win at Jenga? You hate it when he does that."

"He does it so often, I figured it was time to let it go." I give her a sarcastic, tight-lipped smile as Huck taps his fist to my cheek.

He and his mom are bringing on the punches, aren't they?

"Why are you here?" I ask and immediately regret it as her face falls. "I didn't mean to sound like I don't want you here. It's just that you never drop by unannounced."

"Maybe I should do it more often." She dips her head and fidgets with her fingers in her lap, her black sweater and scarf both extra thick like she's preparing for an ice storm. "I'm sorry I haven't been a very good sister to you."

"What are you talking about? Whit, you're an amazing sister." I furrow my brows.

"I always ask so much of you, and you're always there without complaint. I never return the favor."

I squint over at her as she continues to fidget. She doesn't meet my eye, and my skin crawls. "You talked to Mom. She told you everything I said, didn't she?" I shake my head.

"Of course, she did." Whit finally looks up at me. "We're a family. We should all know what's going on with one another, and actually—" She rises from her spot and smacks me in the back of the head, knocking my hat onto the floor.

"What the he—" I peer down at Huck, who stares at me with wide eyes. "I mean, what the heck was that?"

"You deserve it." My sister drops back onto her ass and bends her knee onto the cushion. "I shouldn't have had to hear that stuff from Mom. I wish you would've told me."

"What did you want me to say?"

"That you're unhappy with us."

"But I'm not," I assure her. "That's not at all what I said or meant."

"Don't lie to me." She narrows her eyes, and I hold Huck a little tighter. When he's older, his mother's stern glare is going to chill his bones. "You have every right to be mad at us. I call you anytime I need a babysitter, Lottie sends you 911 messages when she breaks a nail, and Laurel, well, she might not actually need anything from you, but I'm sure she calls you to complain about her workload like she does to the rest of us. And that is definitely something to be pissed about."

"I'm not pi—" I peer down at Huck again. He seems to be listening so intently, it's hard to imagine he doesn't understand much right now. "I'm not peeved ."

"Then what are you?"

"I'm just… I feel invisible sometimes," I finally confess much like I did to Mom last weekend.

I halfway expect her to laugh and point out how many times I've been on TV. How often I still get tagged by random baseball fans I don't know on social media. How a meme with my face was trending online three years ago.

I steel myself against what I imagine will be a long monologue of all the ways I'm so popular around town too. That she doesn't even live here anymore, but she knows how well-liked I am.

But she doesn't do any of that. She doesn't even move or change her hard expression at all.

"I'm really sorry, Owen," she whispers, and her features darken with obvious guilt. Her lips droop into a frown that drags even the corners of her eyes down.

And while her apology is appreciated, I'm not sure the look on her face is worth it.

"I'll do better, okay? I promise." She squeezes my shoulder, and my stomach tightens.

"I'll do better about letting you in," I say in return. "After talking to Mom, I realized I might not be the easiest to help since I don't always ask for it."

"So, you're asking for it now, right? Because I have thoughts." She wiggles in her spot, tucking her ankle under her knee.

A deflection is on the tip of my tongue, but that's exactly what I just told her I wouldn't do. She's here to try, and I need to do the same.

Instead of diverting the conversation to something that removes the spotlight from me and onto her, I fight my natural instincts and relay the details with Addie—the important details, anyway.

Halfway through, I've barely taken a breath when a new message lights up my screen. I'm embarrassingly relieved to find who it's from.

"It's her, isn't it?" Whit scoots closer and peers over my shoulder. "Open it, open it!"

My pulse spikes.

"Well? What does it say?" Whit urges.

I read the message again. "To check my doorstep."

My sister flies off the couch as if I dunked ice water onto her. She's the first to the door, but she stops herself before throwing it open. "You should probably do the honors." She bites her lip, and it's clear she's trying to hold herself—and a squeal—back.

With Huck on my hip, I stare at the door for a beat before I open it, inhaling deeply in preparation to see Addie, but she's not there. Nothing's on my doorstep except for a large gift bag.

Whit jumps out and grabs the bag. "Were you expecting a present?"

"Not so much. Not after the ultimatum I gave her."

She freezes with her mouth dangled open.

"I haven't gotten to that part of my story, have I?" I grimace.

"You need a lot more help than I thought." She waves for me to follow her back into the living room, where we resume our previous spots, and she folds her hands in her lap.

"Should I be lying down for this?" I ask, only halfway kidding.

"Explain yourself, big brother," she says and sets the gift bag aside as if I can't be rewarded until I tell her the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.

With a frustrated exhale, I recount the rest of the unpleasant details, bouncing Huck on my knee to distract me from the weight of it all.

At the time, I thought the ultimatum was the best idea, but it was done out of fear. Hardly the right reason.

Defeat settles over me until I can't take the anticipation anymore, and I set Huck in the playpen I keep here for when I babysit, then wrangle the gift bag from my wily sister. "It's mine," I insist.

"I haven't decided yet if you deserve it!"

I rip the corner of the bag as I tear it from her surprisingly strong grip. "Whether I deserve it or not, it's mine," I repeat.

Once it's in my possession, I freeze before I look inside.

"You know she's just scared too, right?" Whit offers. "We say and do crazy shit when we're scared, but it doesn't make our feelings any less strong or real. Give her time to handle her fears like you're handling yours."

I swallow as Huck passes gas, which he follows up with a cry as if it scared him.

"He might need a diaper change." She gathers him into her arms and disappears to tend to him while I sit with my thoughts—and the gift bag at my feet.

It's almost as big as an average duffel bag.

I've lived a full life with glamor and risks. I've driven an IndyCar in a friendly race with other baseball buddies, the speed of which would terrorize many people, but I found it exhilarating.

I've been stung by a jellyfish.

And I've been hit in the face with a baseball more times than I can remember.

I shouldn't be afraid of a plain blue plastic bag.

With my heart racing, I pry through the tape and open the top, then dig into it for… fabric. There's a lot of orange fabric.

A note is pinned to the front in Addie's perfect scrawl as if she took her time with each letter—she probably always does—and my breezy laugh holds none of the weight or hesitation I felt before.

Immediately, I grab my phone and text Nate.

On second thought, I will be at the party tomorrow night.