“Mary called.”
I quirked an eyebrow.
That made him laugh, but only for a moment, before he sighed and set his sandwich on the rug we were sitting on. “You know I’ve never been one to give you advice or judge you or try to make you think that what you’re feeling is wrong.”
He was right, which meant that whatever he was about to say held a certain significance. I watched as his eyes roamed my face, searching for something that probably wasn’t there. Clayton had been through a lot in his life. His eyes—to me—always held a familiarity to them. A sense of home, if ever I had one. Despite how much he’d grown up the past few years, his eyes always reminded me of the kid who I was first introduced to.
I dropped my sandwich, faced the river, and brought my knees up to my chest. “Out with it,” I told him “I just worry about you, Chloe.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I know you’re rolling your eyes.”
I turned to glare at him.
“You think I need to see you to know what you’re doing? That’s ass, and you know it.”
“Whatever.”
“All I’m saying is that I worry. I worry that you’re not getting the best out of your life.”
I went to interrupt, but he raised his hand to stop me.
“Just let me speak, please?”
I nodded but kept my eyes on the glistening water.
“I get why you do what you do . . . why you shut yourself off from the rest of the world and the people around you. But I’m scared for you. I’m scared that maybe you’ll do it, and it will all be for nothing. Maybe you’ll live to be a hundred.”
“There’s a fifty-fifty chance I carry that gene, Clay.”
“I know that. And you know that I know that. But that’s a fifty percent chance you don’t carry it, Chloe. And even if you do—it doesn’t necessarily mean cancer, and it might not get you as young as it got them. It might come a lot later in your life. It might not happen at all. Don’t you think that means something? That has to mean something. And the fact that you refuse to get checked . . . I mean . . . things have advanced since your mom—”
“What’s your point?” I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. I’d heard it all before. From Mary, from Dean, from the counselors they’d made me see when I was eleven.
He sighed heavily and moved closer so our sides were touching. “I’m just saying that maybe you’re missing out. Maybe if you open your eyes a little you’ll see that it’s not all bad. Maybe it’s okay to let someone in. To let them understand you. Maybe Blake—”
My breath caught.
He didn’t let it stop him from continuing. “I don’t know Blake, but neither do you. It’s just—from what I can see—he cares about you. More than you probably know. And I don’t know what’s happening between you two, but he’s trying. I know he’s the first guy—or person really—that you let in, even just for a little bit. But maybe you should try . . . Just try.”
The lump in my throat ached as much as the pain in my chest. I wanted him to stop talking.
He threw an arm around my shoulders and pulled me to him. “I dunno, Chloe. You had a mom who loved you. An aunt who took you in. Foster parents and siblings who adore you. You have a guy interested in getting to know you. If you take all that in, and the life that you’ve built for yourself, maybe it’s worth it. Maybe it’s worth that fifty percent chance at living.”
I released the sob I’d been trying so hard to contain and dropped my head into my hands. And I cried. I cried for my mom. My aunt. And I cried for Clayton—because he’d never had any of those things.
“I love you, Chloe. I’m so glad and so honored to know you. To be a part of your life. My point is that maybe others deserve that chance, too.”
Wiping my tears on his shirt, I whispered, “I can’t, Clay.” I looked up at him. “What would you do if you were me . . . if you thought your time was limited? Would you purposely hurt the people you cared about?”
He shook his head slowly, his eyes penetrating mine. “No, Chloe, that’s the absolute last thing I’d ever want.” He kissed my forehead. “But I’m glad we had this talk.”
I sniffed and nodded into his chest. “Me, too.”
By the time Clayton pulled onto my street, it was early evening. Boys were walking down the driveway and into waiting cars. Some were loading mowers onto the beds of trucks. There had to be more than twenty of them.
“You coming in for a bit?”
Clayton nodded as he stepped out of his car. “I’ll just come in and say hi real quick.”
We walked to the end of the driveway and through the gate into the yard. I heard Dean’s voice before he came into my vision. “Holy shit, kid! This is amazing.”
I froze.
The entire yard had been cut back; the grass was short enough that you could actually walk on it. It’d been years since I’d seen it this clean. But that wasn’t what caught my attention. It was the giant play set that’d been built in the corner of the yard. I’d only ever seen such things at playgrounds.
Sammy stuck his head out the window of the upper level of the playhouse. “Chloe! Clayton! Come look!”
Blake and Dean quickly turned to us.
“It’s pretty great, huh, Chloe?” Dean said in awe.
I couldn’t take my eyes off Blake. His hands were in his front pockets. A slight smile on his face, almost as if he was embarrassed by Dean’s praise. His eyes moved to Clayton next to me, and he jerked his head in greeting.
Sammy’s childish holler broke through the silence. “Guys! What do you think?”
I glanced up at him. His smile was so big it was infectious. “It’s amazing, Sammy! It really is.”
Clayton cleared his throat. “Hey,” he said, speaking to Blake. “You want to show me the playhouse?”
“Yeah, man,” Blake replied and started to walk away.
I grabbed his arm before he could get far. “You staying for dinner?”
He smiled. “You inviting me?”
I shrugged.
“I guess I have no choice then.”
Blake
Clayton led me to the playhouse and up the ladder. I knew he wasn’t interested in seeing it, but the thought of what he really wanted made me nervous. We sat quietly, waiting for Sammy to tell us everything he loved about the new yard. After a couple minutes, Dean came out and got him so he could wash up for dinner. “You staying?” he asked Clayton.
He shook his head. “I gotta take off. Blake will just be a minute.”
It felt weird, him speaking for me. My nervousness escalated, and I wondered what it was about him that I found so intimidating.
“You could be her change, Blake.”
That’s it. That’s all he said, before climbing down the ladder and heading out of the yard to the driveway.
You could be her change.
I had no idea what that meant, but I knew that I wanted it.