“Shut. Up. Gabby.”
Laughing, I peel my hoodie off and toss it in the corner of the room, leaving me in a T-shirt and sweats as I climb into my sister’s double bed, content in knowing I’ll be falling off this at some point in the night.
Gabby takes my arm, draping it across her as Alexa turns off the lamp, blanketing the room in darkness. Her breathing grows shallow and steady within minutes, but my mind is racing too fast to sleep.
The past twenty-four hours have been a giant clusterfuck of problems and emotions, things I wasn’t prepared to handle. It feels like I handled this issue right, but my gut tells me I fucked my other one straight into the ground, because the only thing I see every time I close my eyes is Jennie’s face, the way her eyes clouded with rejection when I told her I needed space.
I know I wasn’t thinking straight, but Jesus Christ, what was I fucking thinking? Was that the solution to my jealousy, to my uncertainty when it came to how she felt for me, whether we were growing together or separately? To feeling helpless with my family?
“Garrett?”
Through the darkness, I find Alexa peering at me from her pillow. “Hmm?”
“I’m sorry I said I hated you. I don’t hate you.”
I smile. “I know, Lex.”
“I was just really scared, and Stephie and Gabby were scared, and I felt like I had to be brave for them. But I didn’t know how. I wanted you to come home and be brave for us.”
“It’s okay to be scared. But for what it’s worth, I think you were plenty brave for all of us.” I stretch my arm across the space between us, and when Alexa reaches for my hand, I hook my pointer finger around hers. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Next time you’re scared, it’s important for us to communicate, okay? Nearly everything can be fixed with a little communication.”
The irony isn’t lost on me that communicating is not on the list of things I did well with Jennie hours ago. I grew up straddling a thin line, too afraid to speak my mind out of fear of upsetting my dad whenever he was teetering on the edge, but that’s exactly what I did to Jennie. I was scared, so I talked at her. She put her trust in me, trust I fought tooth and nail to earn, and in the matter of a half hour, I threw it all away because I was too afraid to swallow my pride and tell her what I was scared of: losing her, losing my dad, failing my family.
“Are you taking your girlfriend on a date for Valentine’s Day?” Alexa asks, as if she knows exactly what’s going on in my head.
“Jennie’s not my girlfriend,” I grumble.
“Then how come you knew who I was talking about?” she tosses back, all snarky.
“Three siblings,” I mutter, “and not a single one is a boy.”
“I listened to you talk to her on the phone after her dance recital.”
“Alexa.”
She snickers. “What? It was cute. You called her your best friend and you said you made snowman ornaments with your handprints. I know I’m only twelve, but I’m pretty sure that means she’s your girlfriend.”
“Maybe she was, kinda, or at least I wanted her to be,” I confess. “I wanted her to be more than just a friend. But I’m pretty sure I messed it up.” I close my eyes and sigh. “No, I know I messed it up.”
“Why? Did she break up with you?”
“No. I think I did.”
“Ew. Why would you do that? Jennie’s cool and nice and she makes fun of you but keeps you around anyway even though you’re annoyin’。”
I chuckle quietly. “You’re right. She’s all of those things and more. I guess I was scared.”
“I thought it was okay to be scared,” Alexa whispers back to me.
I sigh. “It is.”
“Are you going to talk to her?”
“Should I?”
She snorts. “Are all boys this clueless? Don’t you like her?”
“I’m not sure like is a strong enough word.”
“Doesn’t that answer your question? Why would you want to be away from her and sad when you can be with her and happy?” She laces her fingers through mine, squeezing. “I bet if you ask her for another chance, she’ll give it to you.”
“You think so?”
“You’re worth a second chance, Garrett.”
The theater is dark, the atmosphere humming as the audience buzzes excitedly.
I check my ticket for the seventeenth time, which is super unnecessary; I’ve memorized it.
“Excuse me,” I whisper, indicating to the empty seat halfway down the row before I start inching toward it. “Pardon me. Sorry. So sorry. Excuse me.”
Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I plop down with a sigh, and Adam, Jaxon, and Cara all arch a brow.
Carter leans around everyone, exhaling heavily. “Oh thank fuck. I was worried you were bailing. Jennie woulda kicked you right in the balls.”
I think she might anyway, but instead of saying that, I laugh. It’s a lot shriller and more panicked than I’d like.
Adam clears his throat, eyes on the empty stage. “Everything okay?”
“With my dad? Yes. He’s going to start his counseling sessions again, and my mom was helping him with his resume before I left.”
“Good. I’m glad. And with her?” He doesn’t say her name. He doesn’t have to. “She called me this morning. Asked if I knew where you were because you had a fight, and she went to your place to try to talk to you, but you weren’t there. It wasn’t my place to tell her, Garrett, so I didn’t, but you need to. She’s either part of your life, or she’s not. You don’t get to ask her to let you in and then not do the same for her, especially when it affects your relationship. You have every right to be upset about everything, what happened with your dad, what she said, even though I doubt she meant it…but you don’t shut her out. You’re smarter than that.” His eyes shift sideways, meeting mine. “You’re here, so I assume that means you’re going to be honest with her.”
“Yes, Dad,” I grumble.
His mouth quirks. “Make me proud, son.”
The theater goes quiet, a single spotlight shining on the stage.
Carter leans forward, glaring down the row at everyone. “Shhh!”
“Nobody said any—” Jaxon clamps his mouth shut, then pretends to button it, eyes wide at the fierce expression Carter wears.
My eyes fall to the tall object sitting on the floor between him and Olivia, and I bury my face in my hand. “Does he have a fucking tripod stand and a video recorder? Does he not know cellphones come equipped with video function now?”
Adam chuckles. “He’s a proud brother.”
Proud he is. He spends the entire show half-assed clapping at the end of each performance before he examines the program and announces how many songs there are until Jennie’s. It’s the very last song, so by the time we get there and Carter leans forward and opens his big mouth, our entire row and the one behind us all drone in unison, “It’s Jennie’s turn.”
But I don’t blame him for being proud. When those curtains open, Jennie’s automatically the most magnificent person who’s taken this stage tonight.