Page 45 of Catch and Cradle

“I always knew your name.”

My voice is low, and my words spark some new heat—a heat even the backpack and two feet of bench between us aren’t enough to ward off. If anything, the distance just makes me burn with an even stronger need to be close to her.

“You did?”

“Of course.”

I’ve always noticed her. I’ve always felt her like a change in seasons, like a shift of scents and colours, of sounds in the air and wind on my skin. Sometimes she’s the first crackle of dried leaves in the fall and sometimes she’s the mud and melting of spring, but she’s always a change. She’s always a collection of warning signs there to remind me I spend every day of my life pulled around the sun by a force I can’t feel or see.

Maybe it’s dramatic, but it’s true. I feel Hope like a force, and until now, she’s always been a force as vague and distant as the centrifugal motion of the solar system. The pull I feel toward her was never something I had a role in. It was never an action I took or tried to take. She was just there, and now, somehow, she very much feels like she’s here.

“Becca...”

“We should head back.” I jump up off the bench and stand facing away from her as I pull my backpack on. “Coach was right. Early morning practice tomorrow.”

“Right. Yeah.”

I turn around and find her slipping her own backpack on. The top of her chest has the slightest tinge of a pink flush to it, and for a second, all I want to do is lick her collarbones and see how deep I can make her blush.

Which is exactly why I need to leave. Now.

“Thanks for getting dinner with me.” She shifts her weight from side to side. “And for what you said. About Ethan. About...me.”

“I meant it.” I press my lips together, but my next words slip out anyway. “You’re amazing, Hope. You really are.”

10

Hope

Jane sets a salad bowl down in front of me and then passes two more out to Iz and Paulina. We all gasp and clap in appreciation of the beautifully presented strawberry, balsamic, and feta creation served on a bed of mixed greens.

“My end of summer speciality,” Jane says as she takes a bow.

We’re crammed in around the round table we have tucked in a corner of the Babe Cave’s narrow kitchen. We usually have our family dinners in the living room, but momentous occasions call for an actual table. Supper on the eve of our first lacrosse match of the season definitely counts as a momentous occasion. We’re almost halfway through September already, and we lucked out with scoring a home game to kick things off.

“It’s so pretty I don’t even want to eat it.” Paulina gazes down at her bowl like she’s staring at a painting.

I’ve been studying all day and can’t remember if I ate lunch or not, so I don’t hesitate to spear a huge forkful of greens and dig in. I groan out my approval as I chew, and Jane sets her own bowl down with a satisfied smile.

“Chef Jane has done it again,” she says, bringing one hand to her mouth and kissing the tips of her fingers.

Now that the craziness of the semester has set in, it’s rare that all four of us get time to sit down for a meal together. We try to have semi-regular family dinners, but mostly our group dining experiences consist of eating on the fly as we head to practice or devouring takeout during quick study breaks.

“How is everyone doing?” I ask between bites of salad. “Like, really doing? Let’s have a Babe Cave catch up session.”

It’s been almost a week since Becca and I’s Pita Pit Experience—as I’ve started calling it in my head—and I know I’ve been so busy with school, lacrosse, and lying on my bed replaying the feeling of her hand on mine that I haven’t exactly been the most attentive roommate or friend.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you guys! My sister got her first ultrasound.” Paulina sets her fork down and beams at us. “The baby is healthy and such a cute little blob! I can’t believe I’m going to be an auntie.”

Jane claps her on the shoulder. “You’re going to be a great auntie.”

“What’s aunt in Polish?” I ask. “Is that what the baby will call you?”

“Oooh, I hadn’t even thought of that!” her eyes light up. “How does Ciocia Lina sound?”

“Like a thing I cannot pronounce, but very cute,” I answer.

“What about you, Iz?” Jane asks after we’ve all finished another few bites of salad. “What’s your Babe Cave update?”