was reading his Works of Love toward the end of Elin’s pregnancy with him. I’d read aloud to her while she soaked in the tub, after I’d put Freya and Axel to bed. It just fit. The name, his philosophy…”
“I’m not familiar with Kierkegaard in any detail,” I tell him honestly.
Dr. B glances up at the fading daylight and smiles. “‘To dare is to lose one's footing momentarily. Not to dare is to lose oneself.’”
“The other one, Daddy,” Ziggy say quietly.
He kisses her forehead. “‘The most common form of despair is not being who you are.’”
Ziggy smiles. “That’s my favorite.”
“And my favorite,” Dr. B says, as he shifts Ziggy on his lap, “is—”
A new voice breaks in. I glance over my shoulder to see Ren smiling down at me, hands in his pockets. “‘To cheat oneself out of love,’” he says, “‘is the most terrible deception; it is an eternal loss for which there is no reparation.’”
My throat’s dry as a desert. I lick my lips and feel myself melting in the heat of his stare. “That’s a good one.”
Ren nods. “Yes, it is.”
“Frankie!” a voice yells from below.
I turn and lean against the deck rail, squinting to find who said it. “Yes?”
Viggo waves. “Come down here. I need a partner.”
I glance across the field. They’re setting up…badminton? Oliver and Axel stretch the net with Ryder’s help. I don’t see Freya’s husband, Aiden, anywhere. When I glance up at Ren, I see he’s glaring down at Viggo, his jaw tight.
As I stand, I shuffle out from between the table and chair and salute Dr. B and Ziggy both. “It was good talking to you. But now, it’s time to go get my ass handed to me at badminton.”
Dr. B grins and pats Ziggy’s back, his eyes holding mine. “Go on and show ’em how it’s done.”
Peering up at Ren, I smile. Hands on his hips. A flush in his cheeks. Angry Big Red stance. I thread my arm around his waist and smile up at him.
Ren frowns as I hold on to him while we walk down the deck stairs to the back lawn. “I told Viggo croquet would be better,” he grumbles.
“Maybe. But I think I can hold my own in a corner of the net. We’ll divvy up the area, and I’ll stick to mine.” I pat his cheek. “Remember. Give me a chance. Don’t assume I can’t.”
“I’m trying. I’m…” He sighs. “Can I be honest?”
“Always. Please.”
“Okay.” He rakes a hand through his hair and tugs roughly. “I’m worried you’ll get hurt. Not because I think you’re incapable or that badminton is beyond you—truly, I don’t—but look at us—” He gestures to his brothers, all of whom are over six feet and pushing 200 pounds.
“Well, that’s a fair point. But it’s not a contact sport.”
“Everything is a contact sport in the Bergman household.”
I laugh. “It’s okay. I’ll be careful.”
Ren wraps an arm around my shoulder and kisses my hair. My head rests on his shoulder in a way that I can see behind his back, where Oliver is stealthily creeping toward him. I’ve seen that stance. That’s an I’m-about-to-depants-a-guy stance.
Shoving myself around Ren so that he’s shielded behind me, I lift my cane and point it at Oliver.
Ren’s younger brother grins, frozen to the spot. “Foiled by Bellatrix. What’s she gonna do?”
“I might be Slytherin,” I tell him. “But I’m no Death Eater.”
Ryder glances between us. “What the hell is this? Did I just fall into a ninth circle of nerd hell?”
Ren shoves him. “Lay off. She’s protecting me.”
Oliver grins, feinting to the right. I arc my cane and yell, “Stupefy!”
He freezes perfectly, mouth agape, mid-crouch.
“That all you got?” Viggo calls.
Lifting my cane higher, I touch the tip to Oliver’s chest. “Locomotor Mortis.”
Trying not to smile, Oliver snaps up, legs locked together, and topples over onto the grass. A burst of applause sounds from the deck, where Ziggy and Dr. B, now Willa, Rooney, and Elin stand.
“Woohoo, Frankie!” Willa hollers.
Before I can respond, I’m tucked tight inside Ren’s arms, a soft kiss pressed to my cheek.
“You saved me,” he whispers.
I grin up at him and steal a kiss. “I did, didn’t I?”
26
Ren
Playlist: “Close,” Nick Jonas, Tove Lo
“What’s up with Frankie?” Andy asks. “She’s been extra moody this week. And I didn’t even see her leave tonight.” Yanking his jersey over his head, he throws it down, shaking sweat off like a wet dog. I sit on the bench and stare at my locker. Dazed.
Come home hungry.
That’s what her