The Second Chance Year(67)

This question is about my parents, so therefore, rhetorical. “Right.”

Owen drains his beer. “I’ve always admired your ability to basically say, Screw it and be who you want to be. I tell myself I’m going to quit and give this game idea a chance, but I keep getting all these promotions, and Mom and Dad are so damn proud…”

I get it. When your role has been clearly laid out for your entire life, it’s not easy to pivot to being someone else. This past year has been a big, fat lesson for me. “Well, for the record, I’d support you one hundred percent if you wanted to torch your job and follow your dream, Owen.”

“Thanks.”

“And Jacob would, too,” I add. “He’s a really good friend.”

“Is he?” Owen narrows his eyes at me. “How would you know?”

And to my great mortification, I blush. “Well, uh—”

Owen leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What’s with the two of you? You guys never even spoke for years. And all of a sudden, you’re planning birthday parties together and bonding over your mutual friendship with some old lady, and, like”—he waves a hand at me—“saying stuff like that about each other.”

My heart seizes on that last part. “Is Jacob saying stuff like that about me, too?”

Owen crosses his arms over his chest and gives me a death stare. “Why do you care?”

“I—” Why do I care? With a sharp inhale, I picture Jacob at the piano playing that beautiful, haunting song. Making me smile when I was upset with my parents. Jumping in to help me decorate piles of cupcakes for Owen’s birthday. Breaking the world speed record to come and get me from the steps of a Brooklyn brownstone just because I called and asked him to.

Tangled up with me on the couch.

I close my eyes.

And in that moment, I know, without a doubt, exactly why I care.





Chapter 34


My eyes fly open, and I stare at my brother. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

I get up and pace across the room and then back. Pausing in front of Owen, I open my mouth and then close it again. And then I spin on my heel and pace back and forth again.

“Sadie. What is it?”

“I—” I stop pacing and press my hands to my flushed cheeks. “I’m in love with Jacob,” I half-mumble, half-blurt out.

Owen’s mouth drops open, and at first, no sound comes out. He blinks a couple of times and then drops his head into his palms. His shoulders begin to shake, silently in the beginning, but soon, I can hear little jagged puffs of breath from beneath his hands.

“Owen?” I ask cautiously. What the hell?

My brother’s shoulders shake harder, his whole body rocking now. The gasps grow louder. And all of a sudden, it dawns on me.

“Oh my God. Are you laughing?”

He lifts his head from his hands, nodding vigorously, but he can’t actually get any words out thanks to the fact that he’s practically in hysterics. He grips the arm of the chair really roaring with it now.

“What is the matter with you?” I demand. “Get it together.”

“I’m—” He gasps. “I’m trying.”

I stand in front of him with my hands on my hips. “Try harder.”

“I am, I am. Okay.” He coughs. “Sorry, it’s just…” And then, Seriously? He’s laughing again. Finally, after a couple more minutes of this, he sucks in a deep breath and gets it under control.

I smack him in the arm and then cross the room to flop back on the couch. “I can’t believe I just bared my soul to you, and this is how you reacted.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just—” His lips twitch, and if he laughs again, I’ll kill him. “Jacob’s been low-key in love with you for years. For practically forever.”

“He what?” I sit up. “Jacob has not been in love with me.”

“He has.” Owen nods. “Truly, madly, deeply.”

“What? Since when?”

“I think it started when we were in fourth grade, and you were in fifth. Some jerk on the school playground stole Jacob’s saxophone and threw it in a dumpster. And you came along and told the kid that if he didn’t climb in there and get it, you’d crush him like a bug under your shoe. That was it for Jacob.” He throws his hands into the air like I don’t get it. “Goner.”

“I vaguely remember this.” I squint at him, searching my memory. “And,” I have to acknowledge, “it does sound like something I would’ve done.”

“You think?”

Jacob, in love with me. And all of a sudden, my heart is aching with longing and hope. Is it really possible? He must feel something for me. Friendship, attraction. He showed up all those times. And you can’t fake the intensity of those kisses we had. But I don’t want only attraction or friendship. I want…

Everything.

“So, if I’m in love with him, and he’s felt the same for years…” My gaze swings to my brother. “Why were you laughing?”

Owen gets to his feet and heads into the kitchen. A minute later, he comes back with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “This might call for something a little stronger.” He hands me a glass, splashes in some amber liquid, and then takes the bottle and the other glass back to his chair.