A memory of Cap and I bunked together in a tent the size of the cab of my truck crossed my mind. It was fuck all strange that Delta was what we considered the good old days now. The two of us and the Swan boys were either at each other's throats or on each other’s backs twenty-four seven.
“Ah yes, otherwise known as ‘top secret soldier crew’. How could I forget that?” I winked.
“Did you always want to be in the Army?”
“No,” I told her truthfully. “I wanted to take care of my mom and help out my sister and the Army was the quickest way to make a lot of cash right out of high school.”
We sat on a bench while I went back and forth with myself, deciding how to broach the subject of my father, who I didn’t usually talk about. Rip the fucking bandage off, I guess.
“When my father passed, we really struggled for a while. The heart attack was sudden, and he was so young. I took on being the man in the house, but there was only so much I could do as a teenager. I worked at grocery stores to get discounts on our food and at the car wash on weekends until I saved enough money to buy us a used car. With the Army, I was doing what I knew my dad would have done—but I ended up loving it and making a career out of it.”
Ophelia didn’t pity me; she listened as if absorbing every word and breath in between. Talking about my dad didn’t make me emotional anymore like it did when I was a kid. In fact I hadn’t even had a moment of dejection over it since my last birthday, when I realized I was as old as my father had ever been.
“Sounds like you’re the world’s best son.” She nudged me with her shoulder. “I don’t know them, but your mom and sister have to appreciate you more than you realize. You basically gave your life to them.”
“No.” I laughed, having never thought of it in that way. “We’re family, we take care of each other. They are my life.”
“Look at us, pseudo-mom and pseudo-dad before we hit puberty.”
“Do you want kids?”
Her eyes flashed to mine. “Yes.” Then, she continued more seriously, “But I don’t want to fuck them up. I’m terrified to settle and get married and have kids with the wrong guy, and then repeat the same cycle as my parents. I can’t do that.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” I agreed. “You shouldn’t get on yourself for being picky or deciding not to date someone because you’re expected to. I’m nearly forty. I’m not married, I don’t have kids, but it’s not because I don’t want those things. It’s because it hasn’t felt right to do that yet.”
“Nat mentioned something about your ex.”
Discomfort panged in my chest.
Did I want to rehash the disaster that was the end of my military career, paired with the crumbling of a near decade-long relationship right then? Not exactly. We were having a thoughtful, insightful conversation that was going surprisingly well without dipping below depression level. I wanted to tell her, but I wanted to keep her smiling way more. I wasn’t going to let Vanessa creep in and overcast the sunshine sitting beside me with her fucking storm cloud.
“Rule number one is don’t talk about your exes on a first date.” I stood and pulled her along through the final bend of the aviary. “Nothing is going to dampen my mood. We’re surrounded by a thousand butterflies, and I’m currently courting the most interesting girl in the world.”
“That’s not true.” Her cheeks turned a dusty shade of rose. “I’ve lived in the same town my entire life, the craziest thing I’ve ever done is a keg stand, I have lunch with my mom every week at the same place and time, and I date endless, unsatisfying men.”
“I was in the military,” I reminded her. “Where interests are limited to drinking, fucking, and blowing shit up.”
“Bet that uniform got you anything your pretty face wanted,” she teased.
“Maybe, but it wouldn’t have gotten me you.”
I stilled, holding a palm out cautiously toward Ophelia and making a shushing gesture with a finger to my lips. She stopped walking, and I could tell she was tamping down a rush of unjustified panic. A giant Blue Morpho had landed right on the crown of her head and was sitting there like it’d found a new home.
“That’s incredible,” I whispered, slowly inching my phone out of my pocket to take a picture and show her.
“Holy shit,” she gasped. “What do I do?”
“They like when you sing to them,” I told her.
“Really? Like, what kind of song?”
“Like a slow jazz number.”
“Are you fucking with me?”
My mouth turned up on one side. “Give us your best Etta James.”
Ophelia rolled her eyes, and even more spectacularly, the butterfly started crawling onto her forehead.
“Oh, fuck. Oh god, I can feel its little feet on me.”
“Fun fact,” I started.
“No, fuck off with your fun facts.”
“Butterflies use their feet to taste,” I continued. “It’s probably sampling your skin juice to find a suitable place to lay its eggs.”
She curled in on herself. “Get it off me, respectfully.”
I reached out to shoo it away, but the bug fluttered and landed on my forearm. “Hey, little guy.”
“There, now it can slurp on your juices.”
I grimaced. “God, O.”
“I know, okay? I knew the second I said it.”
“Can’t take you anywhere.”
We walked toward the exit and the butterfly remained, stuck to my arm hair, legs tangled in the brush. If it stayed, I would stay there all day, too. But at the door, as if it knew it couldn’t keep us company anymore, it took off.
“It was attached to you.” Ophelia smiled. “You should have snuck him out in your pocket.”
“That’s theft, you little klepto.” I pinched her side. “Fun fact—”
“Can’t be worse than the last one.”
We pushed through the doors of the exhibit. “A butterfly's life expectancy is only two to four weeks. So by the time you leave Florida, most of them will be dead.”
O paused in the walkway with a scowl. “Give me that.” She ripped her notepad out of my back pocket, swatting me in the ass with it before jotting down an aggressive note.
I cackled all the way through the rose garden.
20
Hours later we hopped back in the truck and I cranked the air conditioner to full blast. Both of us stuck our faces to the vents, letting out long, satisfied sighs to be out of the heat. Ophelia’s skin was flushed red, her cheeks like apples. A bead of sweat trickled down her neck behind her ear and I didn’t care how hot it was anymore after that.
I found myself imagining what kind of assholes were passing this woman by as we drove through town. She was the definition of a girl you took home to meet the family. So attractive it kept you awake at night, thinking about the way it’d feel to have her underneath you, at the same time so charming you wanted to protect and take care of her just as much as the physical stuff.
If that wasn’t enough, she was challenging. Smart, funny, effortlessly unhinged. Coy, but never shy. She gave my shit right back to me, which maybe some insecure little boy might find intimidating, but I ate it up.