“It’s a girl thing, Dad.”
“Oh, and your old dad wouldn’t get it, huh? Who do you want them to be from?”
“You sound like Muriel,” I teased, laughing at the bewildered look on his face. I reached out for the card only to pull my hand back just before I touched it.
Who do I want them to be from? When I open that card, am I going to be disappointed? Most likely.
My dad reached for the card. “Do you want me to read it?”
“No! I mean, I can do it.”
He waited, looking at me. “Are you going to do it soon?”
“I’m working up the nerve.”
“You were just in a fight with a guy twice your weight and at least two heads taller than you and some flowers scare you?” He chuckled and shook his head.
“Not the flowers. The name on the card.”
“Let me know how it turns out,” my dad said and walked into the family room, clearly bored with my flower situation.
Oh, you’re being silly. They’re from Xavier. Chay isn’t the flower-sending type… even if we were still together.
I snatched the card from the bow and flipped it open. My breath hitched in my throat. I stood staring at the card until my legs started to cramp. Picking up the flowers, I walked outside and dumped them into the waste bin, throwing the crystal-cut vase on top of them.
My dad watched me from the doorway. “Didn’t like the name?”
“No.” I walked to the door and my dad let me pass.
Looking over his shoulder one last time before following me into the kitchen, he asked, “Who were they from?”
“Jake. He wished me well and thanked me for a nice evening.”
My dad’s face grew hard. A vein throbbed on the side of his neck. “The kid’s got some nerve. That’s for sure.”
“Yeah.” I grabbed an icepack from the freezer before I went upstairs to my room.
Lying across my bed, I looked at the shadows from the empty limbs of the trees outside bounce across the ceiling. I tried not to look at the photo of Chay and me taped in the middle of the posters hanging there, but I kept looking anyway. We looked so happy. I couldn’t figure out what went wrong.
I didn’t feel myself getting tired, but the next thing I knew, my mom was calling me down to dinner. I’d slept the entire day.
Still groggy, I made my way through the hall and downstairs. I turned the corner to take my seat at the kitchen table. A small scream escaped my lips. There, in the middle of the table, sat a vase full of fresh lilies, a card attached to a large, red bow.
“Get them out of here! Dad, how could you bring them back inside?” I accused.
“Milayna, these aren’t the flowers from Jake. These came while you were sleeping,” my mom said. “Open the card.”
I tore the card from the bow. Water sloshed over the rim of the vase as it teetered, nearly toppling over. Ripping open the envelope, I lifted the flap on the card. A slow smile tugged at my lips.
The card had one word written on it: Chay.
A man of few words. How the heck am I supposed to figure him out when he won’t give me anything to work with?
“Well? Who are they from?”
I peered over the card. Both my parents were looking at me expectantly.
Benjamin shrugged his shoulders before announcing, “I hope they’re from Chay. I like him better.”
I leaned down and kissed my brother on the top of the head, breathing in the scent of shampoo and soap. “They are,” I whispered. He looked up and smiled at me. Then his eyes flitted to the side of my face that was raw and swollen, and his expression changed.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“For what?”
“It’s my fault.”
“No way. This,” I pointed at my mangled eye, “is Jake’s fault. No one else’s.”
Benjamin tried to smile, but there was sadness and a little fear in it.
My mom cleared her throat and swiped at a tear falling from her lashes. “So,” she said too brightly. “Who are the flowers from?”
“Chay.” Benjamin giggled.
***
I was helping my mother clean up from dinner when I saw him jump the back fence. I sucked in a breath.
“What’s wrong?” My mom looked at me.
“Nothing. Chay’s here.”
My mom gave me a small smile. “I’ll finish this up. You go out and see what he wants.”
I stood with my hand on the door handle, taking a deep breath before opening it and walking outside into the backyard.
“Hey,” he said when he saw me. He stood with his shoulder leaning against the house, thumb hooked through his belt loop, looking gorgeous as always. My heart skipped a beat, and then it bungee jumped directly to my toes before snapping back into place.
“Hi. Thank you for the flowers. They’re really pretty.”
He pursed his lips, trying to hide a grin. “No problem. You look like hell, Milayna.”