Page 27 of The Way We Touch
No one was up when I left the house, and I almost tapped on Logan’s door to be sure he was awake. I don’t know if he was able to sleep last night, or if he was even affected by what happened between us in the kitchen.
Maybe this is all in my head, and I’m imagining this intense pull between us. It’s possible he’s simply being friendly, offering advice, joking around like anyone might do. Perhaps I was with Davis so long, I lost sight of what it’s like to be around someone not trying to control me or press me into some mold that doesn’t fit.
It doesn’t matter. He might be the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and he might be thoughtful and kind and great with kids and notices when I need help with the dishes. He’s Garrett’s best friend, and on top of all of that, he’s a football player.
I don’t date football players.
“Hey, good morning.” My brother holds the screen door open as I park my bike by the porch. “There’s coffee in the kitchen. Kimmie’s still asleep, so you’ll have the place to yourself a little while longer.”
“You ready for today?” I trot up the steps to where my oldest brother waits.
“Ready as I ever am.” He gives me a brief hug before heading out to his old red truck.
I know he has a love-hate relationship with this time of year. As much as he enjoys coaching and fielding the strongest possible team, he secretly hates having to tell boys they’re not starting material or worse. They didn’t make the cut.
I know that’s why he’s glad Garrett is here. If anyone can give bad news in a way that will leave you smiling, it’s Garrett.
Jack is so much like our dad with floppy brown hair that hangs over his eyes. He’s tall and lean like the former quarterback he is, and he’s every bit the natural-born star our father was. Dad was a legend, and Jack followed right in his footsteps.
It’s a thought that tightens my stomach when I think about how our dad died. Jack was only twenty. He’d just graduated early from State, and he was the first-round draft pick for the Texas Mustangs.
He stood in front of that casket, we all stood there, knowing our lives would never be the same. Then he straightened and told us all what we were going to do. He went on to Texas, playing five years before retiring at the top of his game.
Zane was old enough to keep an eye on us when Jack went away. He went to college across the bay while the rest of us got four years older. It was the time required for me to mature into taking care of myself, and when Garrett graduated, he was able to leave for college in Tuscaloosa.
Hendrix went to USC and never came back. He loves sunny California and living like a rockstar. He’s only a year older than me—Irish twins is what they called us—but we couldn’t be more different. I’ve grown to love the quiet, small-town life here with my friends and family.
Losing our parents was the hardest thing we’d ever gone through. To me, it was second only to the loss of my dancing dreams, and it bonded us in a way nothing ever could. We held onto each other and didn’t get into trouble. We looked out for each other, and I always knew I had four guys protecting me no matter what.
It helped we lived in a small community that rallied around us as well. Ten years later, I can see how lucky we were to be in Newhope.
On this rare cool morning in July, looking out over the bay, I can still hear my mamma singing “The Bluest Eyes in Texas.” We didn’t know when she passed our father would follow right behind her. I only knew when you see someone you love in so much pain, all you want is for that pain to end. Even if it means having to say goodbye.
Sitting in a swing on the screened-in back porch at my brother’s house facing the water, I think about how everyone in town was ready to lift us up and bring us casseroles.
That’s one thing you learn early living on the Gulf Coast with hurricanes blowing in every other year and folks needing help and getting older and trees falling and whatnot. Not the casseroles part, the taking care of each other part. We always come together in times of need.
Just like Kimmie Joy, who became like my own daughter after her mother took off one fall night without a word. Jack found her living in Oklahoma, shacked up with some old boy and singing in night clubs on the weekends.
He didn’t care about any of that. He only wanted her signature on the papers that said they were divorced and giving up any claim she had on their sassy little girl. Now she prances around here just like I did, thinking it’s her job to keep all the big people in line.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” I tease as she walks out onto the back porch, rubbing her eyes and frowning before climbing into my lap.
Her curly head is on my shoulder, and I swing us gently, sliding my hand up and down her back. She’s never been much of a morning person, but I like waking up slowly, too.
She’ll be marching around here soon enough.
The cool of the morning evaporates with the rising sun, and when she starts getting sweaty, she slides off my lap.
“Are you going to make pancakes for breakfast?” She takes my hand so I’ll get off the swing and get cooking. “Austin always makes pancakes on Friday. He says it’s T-G-I-F.”
Allie’s son has been babysitting Jack’s daughter the last two summers since his mom started working with me at the restaurant. In the past, Kimmie stayed with me during the summers, but I think my oldest brother saw the same way I did their little family could use the money.
Now with Austin going out for the team, I’m back to babysitting, which I don’t mind at all. In fact, I’ve missed her funny little ways.
“You’re coming with me to the restaurant. I’ll make cheesy scrambled eggs or if Uncle Craig is there, you might be able to convince him to make you pancakes. If you ask nicely.”
She nods slowly. “I know how to ask nicely. Daddy taught me.”