I’d always felt like something was missing.
And I finally knew what it was—this huge other part of me.
The other halves. The four unknown halves in the form of the Sloans. We shared blood, but would that be enough?
Would they even want to hear from me?
I had no idea, but now that I was nearly eighteen, I felt compelled to get to know them.
I couldn’t share my desire with my father for so many reasons.
I didn’t even really know how to share it with Elle. So I didn’t quite reply. Instead, I repeated myself. “I want to.” Then I gestured to one of her plants, sidestepping the issue entirely. “Ella looks thirsty,” I said.
“She’s going to cry herself a river soon,” Elle said, a little wry.
Frowning, I sat there, not knowing what she meant.
“It’s a song. One of Ella’s most famous ones,” she explained. Then, with a piercing look, she said, “Please tell me you know the plant is named for Ella Fitzgerald.”
“I know that much. But her music? C’mon. You know I don’t know those oldies from another century,” I said, smirking.
She dropped her head in her hand. “Kids today. You’re killing me.” When she raised her face, I asked her about Ella and Louis.
We chatted about music instead, and maybe that was what I needed. Just someone to listen.
When I rose to leave her office, I made sure that Colin wasn’t around. And I promised myself that soon I’d tell her more.
3
Elle
After I saw Marcus, I gathered my purse and my phone, sent a couple of texts, and met Colin in the parking lot. Once outside, I narrowed in on my Colin mission—the book and the chips.
He waited at his Audi, wearing aviator shades and a grin the size of the Hoover Dam. What was it about aviator shades? They just made a man look . . . devastatingly sexy.
Be good.
Be strong.
You can do this.
Those were the mantras I’d practice before we spent time together.
They’d served me well.
And they did now when I walked up to him, eyed his wheels sharply, and said with all kinds of sass, “That is not your forklift.”
“True, but we can pretend it is if that makes you feel better.”
“If we’re playing pretend, can it be a tractor?”
He laughed, shoved a hand through his hair, and wandered around to the passenger side. “Your John Deere chariot awaits.”
“Why, thank you,” I said, sliding into his car.
As he returned to the driver’s seat and got in, I tugged on the seat belt. For a second, it stuck, doing that annoying thing seat belts do. Colin leaned in. “My tractor belt is pesky sometimes.” He reached for it and gave a few strong tugs, his arm wickedly close to my chest.
My breath hitched as he pulled, and I repeated more mantras.
A second later, he’d loosened it, then he clicked the belt in place and shot me a look out of the corner of his eye. “I should warn you, this bad boy doesn’t go over twenty. We’ll have to take the back roads.”
“Can we play chicken, though, if we run into anyone we know?” I asked.
Laughing, he nodded as he started the engine. “Of course we can play chicken.”
And of course we did nothing of the sort. He turned on the radio, asking if I wanted pop, old standards, sports talk, or news.
I opted for news, and as we listened, we chatted about the events of the day, tossing ideas back and forth regarding an environmental story.
A few minutes later, we arrived at the library and popped inside. I grabbed my book from the reserve desk, noticing a zombie tale earmarked for another patron.
“I have an idea,” I whispered, and ushered Colin along with me as I made my way to the horror section, hunting for more zombie books for my teenage son, who loved all things undead. I stopped in my tracks when I spotted a row of them.
Colin stopped right behind me. Nearer than I expected. So near I could feel his breath. The library was quiet, as it should be, and an unexpected wave of goosebumps swept over my arms. I reached out for the books, grabbing one.
“In the mood for something scary?” he asked.
“Not for me. For Alex,” I whispered.
“Ah, bet he’ll love that one.” He pointed to a book, and that move put his arm even closer to me. He reached past me and tapped the book till it fell out in his hand.
“I bet he will too,” I said, trying to focus on the conversation, but with Colin in my space, I caught a hint of his soap, and it occurred to me that he’d showered after coaching basketball.
My mouth watered as my brain inconveniently assembled a series of filthy images of Colin showering.
Not helpful. So not helpful.
Zombies. I’d focus on zombies. Brains. Guts. Gore.
That’d have to do the trick.
But my mind was on a dirty loop. My head swam with enticing thoughts.
“By the way, that benefit this weekend,” he said offhand. “Any chance I can convince you to save a dance for me?”
My breath escaped my lungs, and now the images flitting through my mind were of bodies swaying, hands on shoulders and waists, and the delirious possibility that came from dancing.
I’d been the queen of high school dances once upon a time.
I ought to stay far away from dances now.
But I’d be at the benefit that weekend anyway, since the event was a fundraiser for the center.
What harm would one dance do to my resolve?
None.
That was the answer.
A dance was a dance was a dance.
“You’re on the dance card,” I said, but as soon as those words came out, I realized I wanted more than a dance. I wanted time. “Let’s hang out there.”
“Yes, let’s hang out.” It sounded tongue-in-cheek, maybe a little flirty. I didn’t try to correct him. It didn’t need correcting.
Maybe a dance would get him out of my system. Maybe hanging out would too. I turned slightly, meeting his gaze. He was still inches from me. As if he didn’t want to move either. I certainly didn’t. The heat radiating from him was tempting.
So tempting I had to stop thinking of dances and focus instead on pickle potato chips.
“Let’s get those chips,” I said, my voice a little wobbly.
Then we left, stopped at Trader Joe’s, and picked up a bag of pickle chips.
When I reached my house, I left dances and hanging out behind and focused on the number one priority in my life—being a mom.
Alex lounged on the couch, playing a game on his phone.
“Hey you! Did you just get home?”
"A few minutes ago. The bus dropped me off,” he said, setting his phone down.
“Good day at gamer camp?”
“The best.”
“I snagged this for you,” I said showing him the zombie book Colin had picked for him.
“You rock,” he said, and that brief exchange—his words—was all I’d ever need. There had been a time when I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear them again.
Later that night, when I was the only one awake, I dipped my hand into the bag of chips, turning the pages in my new book, reading about battles and munching on chips till well past midnight.