Page 7 of The Way the Heart Breaks: Jade’s Story

“Me too.” She cuts me off, and we both giggle.

“1-2-3,” Jake sings and does so rather loudly.

She grins and whispers to him, “Shhhh, you little turd.”

“Tessa Anne Ross!” Aunt Maggie shouts, and we both laugh. Of course, so does Jake.

Heading to the pond, I see our cousin Troy with… “That’s not Melanie.”

“Nope, it’s Melody.” She rolls her eyes.

“Nothing wrong with breaking up with a girl if it doesn’t work out,” Jason says, tossing his shirt right in my face.

“I’m going to love one boy and one boy only,” I say and chuck it back at him.

Tessa whispers in a sing-song voice, “I bet I know who.”

“Who?” Jason scowls.

My face heats up immediately; I know who she thinks it is. “Not possible because I haven’t even met him yet.” I arch a brow. “But I do know who yours is. The boy with⁠—”

Aunt Maggie smiles as she heads toward us, and Tessa whispers, “Shush, I’ll never be able to go to the Cape again.” She starts running to the pond. “Last one in is a rotten egg!”

We all swim to the shore when Uncle John hits the triangle-shaped chuckwagon bell, calling all of us Ross kids to come in and get ready to eat. Our cousin Troy —Aunt Josie’s son— and his new girlfriend, Melody, are the last ones out of the water. They eventually join Molly, Alex, Tessa, Kendall, and Jake —all children of Uncle John and Aunt Maggie— and then there’s Jasper, Jason, and me. The nine grandkids of the late Ralph and Vivian Ross. Only Molly and Troy ever met them.

Towels wrapped around us, Tessa and I sit on one of the long benches at the picnic table that Dad built for occasions just like this one.

Our grandparents owned hundreds of acres of land and left it all to their children. Aunt Josie sold her share to Dad and Uncle John when she was buying her bar. Dad stopped farming years ago and now rents some of his share to Uncle John, the only one of the three who wanted to farm.

“We need one more first cousin to make it an even ten. I’d like to request it be Mom and Dad’s and that it’s their little sister.” I stick my tongue out at my brothers.

“Shots fired.” Alex laughs.

Dad laughs out, “That ship has sailed.”

Uncle John chuckles. “An odd bunch like us should never be an even number.”

I hear Aunt Josie whisper to Mom and Aunt Maggie, “Since losing two hundred pounds of worthless, we adults aren’t an even number anymore either.”

Tessa gives me a questioning look.

“Divorce,” I explain in a whisper, because it’s almost as bad as a curse word in this family.

“You’re doing great without him.” Mom smiles sweetly at her, then whispers, “And he didn’t get his filthy mitts on your restaurant. The Spot is all yours.”

Tessa leans in and whispers, “Bar.”

We both giggle because we’re convinced they don’t think we know it’s a bar, but obviously, we do. I mean, come on.

“Alright,” Aunt Maggie says from behind us, surprising us both. We look over our shoulders at her and pretend like she’s disappointed, but she’s not. In fact, she’s trying not to smile. “Someone say grace so we can eat. This food looks amazing.”

For the rest of the time at the pond, Tessa and I whisper about our favorite songs, and she tries to convince me to try out for field hockey, while the rest of them talk about family, farming, and what else? Football.

I hang a blanket off the canopy frame so that the glow from my flashlight doesn’t creep out from under my bedroom door and alert my parents that I’m not adhering to the whole get-to-bed-early thing, so we’re back in our school routine since it starts soon. I know, I know, I’m being a rule breaker, but honestly, it feels like a waste of my last summer nights to just go to sleep. Plus, it’s not like I won’t get up for school. I like school. Mom will do her whole wake-up-the-house routine, where she cracks open our bedroom doors, then heads downstairs and turns on the radio loud enough that we can hear it as she makes breakfast. I’ll be just fine.

Sitting in the center of my bed, the cord dragged across my light blue comforter, the radio sitting next to me, the recorder next to it, I am all set up.

I hit the eject button and take out the cassette tape inside. It’s half-used, the label already crowded with old picks scratched out and written over. I set it back in and press rewind, listening to the whir until I catch the tail end of last week’s song. I hover, waiting, and hit stop just before it cuts into the DJ’s voice. That same smooth, stretched-out voice fills the room, like he’s got all the time in the world, while I’m sitting here trying not to miss the first beat and also trying not to get busted doing so.