Lexi Cocker - Faleena Hopkins Page 0,59
quick strides for the front patio and some fresh night air. I know that, coming from Virginia Highlands, Gage’ll drive in through the back, not from Ponce like we did.
I need to pace without him knowing I’m losing my damn mind.
As I burst into a sea of patio customers, I hear a few random, “Hey Lexi”s and force my smile to familiar faces until I plant antsy boots on the cool stretch of asphalt that could use a re-paving, foundation cracking under time’s pressure.
Just like I am.
The girls aren’t far behind, with Zoe explaining, “Ralphie’s holding our spots.”
She didn’t need to say what goes without saying, but she’s nervous for me.
Samantha’s helpless arms hang at her sides. “I’ve never felt this anxious about anything!”
“Not even about Lexi and Brad?” Zoe asks.
Kicking inside a crumbling pothole, I mutter, “She knew he was a phase.”
“Really? Because I didn’t know what he was!”
Sammy and I look at Floaty-head and smile despite ourselves. But the smiles can’t last, and I remind her, “You were this anxious about Logan, Sam.”
She rubs her face, remembering well what I’m talking about. “I meant in regards to you. I’m second.”
I throw my arms around my dear baby sister, “No you’re not! You’re never second, Sammy.”
She hugs me back, while Zoe smiles at us. And fuck that. I pull our cousin in, make it a group-hug, whispering in its center, “I’m really scared, guys!”
Zoe whispers, “We’re here for you!”
“You’re not alone,” Sammy reassures, throwing in a rueful, “And if we need to toss some tables, then watch out!”
With nervous laughter and a final squeeze we separate to stand in our oh-so-familiar triangle.
“Part of me wants to run away. But it’s a small, nasty little part I don’t even recognize.”
Sammy holds up her hand, palm up, “You don’t get hurt — you’re not delicate, Lexi. Remember, you said that!”
“Turns out I hadn’t found just the right guy to rock me just the right way yet.” I poke my chest and the pothole, gaze dropped. “Had to have one who actually got me in here. You know what I figured out? Gage is like Sammy but a guy.”
“That’s so sweet!”
Zoe clasps my arm. “Gage is a keeper.”
“Stop!”
“What? If you think he’s like Sam, then you already know it.”
Closing my eyes I whisper, “I know.”
Like a sword cutting through safety comes his voice through the outdoor crowd, “Lexi?” My lips part, adrenaline slicing my veins as we all look to the front door, where he’s waiting. “Ralphie said those seats are yours?”
“Yeah, hang on a second!” I lock eyes with Zoe, then Sam. “Guess it’s time.”
Through the swarm of patio customers we head over, his narrowed crocodiles locked on me the entire time.
My girls glance back, check to see if I’m alright, but I’m staring at him. They walk in through the wood and glass door he’s holding open. “Hi Gage.” “Hey, Gage.”
“Ladies.”
Stopping in front of him, I scan his black t-shirt and black slacks, matching boots firmly set apart in a stance of determination.
My ribs pound with uncertainty even as dignity lifts my chin. “Hi. Glad you came.”
“It’s uh…good to see you, Cherry.”
Then why haven’t you called…
Keeping that to myself, I touch his huge hand, “Thank you for getting the door,” and walk inside.
Another empty barstool has joined our three, and from the look on Ralphie, that’s no accident. What did the men say when we weren’t here to listen? Was our demise shared?
Numbly I walk through party-minded locals past tables covered in paper baskets of chili dogs, burgers, and fries I lost my appetite for. Since it’s not a particularly warm night, the air is grease-free from no humidity to float on. Yet I’ve never felt this suffocated.
We mount the barstools — Gage on my right, Sammy then Zoe on my left. Ralphie points to three baskets of golden delights accented by one messy ketchup bottle someone should clean. “You girls looked like one wasn’t enough.”
Is there a rock I can crawl under?
Sammy takes a sharp breath, knowing he meant well but just outed our collective state of mind to Gage.
Zoe smiles, oblivious, “Thanks, Ralphie.”
I mutter with sarcasm, “Yeah, thanks, Ralphie.”
Gage takes one of my fries, and I twist on the barstool, turning away from the girls and facing him to watch it disappear. If it weren’t for this wall that’s erected around him, it would be a normal night.
He swallows my stolen fry, wrapping thick fingers around the handle of a frosty mug to take a long drag that