“Leo!” Lachlan’s waving at me from home plate even though there’s a ball flying right at him, from the pitcher, because they’re mid-game.
It smacks him on the shoulder, and I hiss at the same time he yells, “Shit, bitch!”
A whistle’s blown, Lachie gets sent to the bench, and Laney asks again, “How many acres?”
“I don’t know. A lot.” Has our conversation always been this stagnant? Surely not, because it wouldn’t make sense that I’d considered her my best friend for so many years. Maybe it’s me? Or maybe I’m used to deeper, more satisfying interactions with a girl I can’t seem to get off my mind.
“Are you okay, Leo?” I pull my gaze away from Lachlan and face Laney. She’s already watching me, her eyebrows drawn.
“I’m fine. Why?”
“You seem… distant.”
Like, 150-miles-south distant? Yeah, I’m definitely that. “I’m good,” I tell her, seeing my sister from the corner of my eye. She walks up behind her husband, Cameron, and grabs his ass—something I never want to see again. Cam turns to her, a smirk on his face as he bends down, kisses her quickly. I elbow Laney’s arm. “I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”
Click, click, click, go her knitting needles. “Uh-huh.”
I make my way down the bleachers and catch Lucy just before she leaves. “Luce!” I call out, and she turns swiftly, her eyes widening with her smile when she sees me.
“Leelee,” she shouts, and I’m in her arms before I can back away. She’s short, got her height from our mom, so her hugs are the type that squeeze at your waist.
“Are you about to leave?” I ask, pulling away.
Lucy shakes her head. “I was just going to read in the car. It’s hotter than Satan’s ass crack out here.”
I chuckle. “You got a minute to talk?”
Nodding, she points to the parking lot behind her. “Can we do it in the car?”
“So what’s up?” Lucy says from behind the steering wheel while she sets the AC to Blow Out Your Eyeballs.
I adjust my vents so they land on her. I’ve gotten used to the heat. “Do you remember LuLee’s library?”
Her eyes snap to mine, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “Of course I remember. I’m surprised you do, though.”
Nodding, I tell her, “The memory just came to me the other day, and it just… I don’t know…” I’m suddenly embarrassed. “It was nice… to think about.”
She’s sitting in the seat cross-legged, and she turns her entire body to face me. “That’s what you wanted to talk about?”
“I guess.” I shrug. “I just wanted you to know that I remember it and that I remember you reading to me in that bean bag, and I mean… you basically taught me how to read, so...”
“A lot of good that did,” she murmurs, glancing down at her fidgeting hands. “You had to repeat a grade.”
“Not because of you,” I tell her, and she shakes her head. “Luce, look at me.”
She glances up, her lips tugged down at the corners.
“Listen,” I start. “I have dyslexia. It’s a learning difference, and it’s something that should’ve been diagnosed way before the last fucking year—when I was sixteen. It wasn’t on you to pick up on that.”
“Still,” she says. “I should’ve known.”
“Is that why you stopped reading to me?”
She shrugs. “I thought I was making it worse.”
I huff out a breath and stare out the windshield. “You’re the one who introduced me to reading. You’re the one who gave me my love for books, for getting lost in fictional worlds.” I pause a beat. “Do you know how many times picking up a book has saved me from… from my own thoughts, from myself?” I lick the dryness off my lips. “And it’s not just that, Luce; it’s everything. When Mom died, it was all you. Don’t think that we don’t know that—all of us boys. And I don’t think any of us have ever said thank you. So… thank you.” It’s the most amount of words I’ve strung together since I got home, and I’m getting no reaction from her. At least not verbally. When I find the courage to face her, she’s crying. Tears, so many of them, trailing down her cheeks and along her jaw. I sigh. “Why do I keep making girls cry?”
She laughs at this, a soft, subtle sound. “I don’t know which girl you’re referring to, but maybe because you wait too long to tell them how