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I don’t know why I’ve always felt such a responsibility when it comes to my little sister. Maybe it’s because she’s younger or female. Or maybe it’s just instinctual because we’re siblings. But I’ve always had this innate need to protect her. I want to shield her from difficulty and pain. I never want her to be heartbroken, though I know it’s inevitable for all of us. I need to shield her from guys like me, the ones who wouldn’t cherish a relationship with her. She’s so special. And not every guy will see that. But Chase does. He always has. I watched him watch her for years. I always thought they would end up together at some point. I wasn’t wrong.
“Well, thanks for waiting until the spring of my last year here to clue me in on the best food in town,” I say, my words mocking.
“Maybe the better attitude would be to appreciate us bringing you here at all,” Oakley quips while fluttering her eyelashes at me.
I finish my plate and push it out of the way. Oakley shoves her leftover food closer to me, saying she’s full. And I polish that off too.
I lean back in the booth when both plates are clean, feeling ten pounds heavier but very satisfied. “You’re forgiven because the food was so good.”
Chase smirks. Oakley rolls her eyes, but the smile on her mouth doesn’t dim.
“How about you pay for lunch since you’re such a high roller these days?” my sister suggests.
I grab the bill when it comes, happy to comply. “With pleasure.”
When the waitress returns with my credit card, I sign the slip and leave a tip. We all rise from our seats and walk out of the diner. Before I’ve made it to the Bronco, our table is clean, and our booth is filled with new customers. I turn to face Oakley and Chase. Their fingers are interwoven again.
“Congratulations, man,” Chase says, reaching forward with his free hand to fist-bump me.
“Thanks, Matthews,” I respond.
My sister drops her hold on her boyfriend to wind her arms around my waist. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers. Her voice trembles with sudden emotion that I’m not expecting. It unnerves me. “And I’m so excited for you.”
“Thanks, Oak.” I see tears in her eyes when we pull back. “Hey,” I say, tipping her chin. “This is a happy thing.”
“I know,” she says, blinking away the moisture. “I’m just gonna miss having you around.”
“You won’t have a chance to miss me. You’ll come watch me play all the time. And you’ll be here, chasing that degree. You’re gonna be fine,” I say, trying to reassure her.
I swallow down the lump that’s suddenly formed in my throat as I turn away from my sister before her emotional state becomes contagious.
“I’ll see you guys later.” I wave my hand overhead.
“Later, Ollie,” Chase replies.
The passenger door of Chase’s truck opens behind me as I climb into the driver’s seat. From my spot in the Bronco, I watch as Chase helps Oakley into her seat. I remind myself to appreciate these lunches. Because soon, I won’t be able to drop everything to spend a random afternoon with my sister or my friends. My life is about to change in a big way. Oakley realizes it. Chase knows it too. And as much as I want it to happen, it’s bound to be a big adjustment.
CHAPTER FOUR
MADISON
“Hey, Mom,” I say when she answers the line. “I’m calling you back.”
“Finally,” she huffs. “I’ve left you a million messages …”
I sigh when I hear the hurt in her voice. Saying that she has a tendency toward the dramatics is an understatement.
“A million is a bit of an exaggeration, yeah?”
In truth, she’s called no less than six or seven times over the past week. And I haven’t returned her calls until now. I didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with my mother before. I don’t really have it now either, but I couldn’t avoid her forever.
“I have news,” she says. Her tone shifts from poor me into excitement, and I brace myself.
My mom’s ever-changing mood is one of the main reasons I avoid her these days. I never know which version of her I’m going to get.
Two weeks ago, she was depressed, wanting to cry on my shoulder after the demise of her latest relationship. I sat on the phone for more than an hour as she droned on, providing details a daughter never really wants to hear about her mother’s love life. My mom has a selective memory. She forgets that I’m the child and she’s the parent. She’s always treated me more like a friend. It sounds like an ideal situation for a teenage girl, but it isn’t. I’ve never needed another best friend. Oakley fills that spot just fine. I need a mother. And she’s rarely fulfilled that role in my life.
It might be because my mom had me when she was seventeen. My dad was never in the picture. She’s thirty-six now, almost thirty-seven. We aren’t that far apart in age, and I guess my birth stole some of her childhood away. So, she’s spent her twenties and early thirties making up for lost time.
