Not me.
I abandoned my homework for the bean bag chair under the window. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to open my window in days, but tonight, I hoped Asher would be out there. I needed to hear his song.
With my window open, the cool breeze brushing over my skin, I waited. Instead, I heard the front door slam and Dad’s angry voice. Mom’s softer tones worked to calm him, but Payton yelled over her.
More shouts reached my room from downstairs and I decided to send a group text to Joe and Bobby. I’d already sent one earlier to let them know Payton had run off.
Me: Dad found him.
Bobby texted back almost immediately. He was in Indianapolis for a game, but wouldn’t play until the next night.
Bobby: He getting his butt chewed?
Me: Big time.
Joe chimed in. I hadn’t had much of an opportunity to talk to him after practice. Dad had been in a hurry to get out of there.
Joe: What an idiot! What’s his problem anyway?
Bobby: Puberty?
Me: Eww.
Joe: *fist bump*
Me: I thought it would be better after the car thing over the summer.
Joe: Kid was scared crapless.
Bobby: He needs something to focus on other than getting in trouble.
Dad said that all the time, find something to focus on to keep busy. It was one of the reasons we all played hockey. He believed it would keep us out of trouble. It worked for the older boys.
Me: Hello. Hockey.
Joe: Pay isn’t into it like we are.
True. While Bobby, Joe, and I couldn’t get enough of our favorite sport, Payton groaned whenever we put on our rollerblades to play in our basement with brooms and tennis balls. Mom insisted we play with full equipment once we got big enough to hurt each other. When Bobby and Joe lived at home, there were always guys downstairs playing.
Bobby: What’s he into then?
Joe: Being a dirtbag.
Me: Super helpful, Joey.
It made me think, though. Fine, Payton didn’t love hockey like we did. But there had to be something else he felt passionate about. Other than getting in trouble.
Outside my window, Asher plucked at his guitar strings, drawing my attention away from my phone, but not away from my brothers completely.
Bobby: We gotta think of something, guys. That little turd’s only 12 and he’s already been picked up by the police. What’s he gonna be like when he gets older?
A sobering thought.
I told my brothers I’d talk to them later. The music outside my window stopped abruptly. I didn’t think much of it until it didn’t start back up again after several moments. I lifted myself onto my knees, peeking over the window sill into the backyard.
“Bahhh.” I fell back onto the beanbag clutching my chest where my heart raced.
Deep laughter floated into my bedroom through the open window.
“Come down and talk to me.”
Holy crap, Jordan!
I peered out the window again. Asher stood just below my window.
“Why would I want to do that?”
He made a face. “Why wouldn’t you? Come on.”
The memory of his arms around me while I cried asked the same question. Why wouldn’t I?
Without replying, I shut my window and tossed on a hoodie. Downstairs, my parents still talked with Payton. They’d moved into the kitchen blocking me from using the back door. If I wanted to avoid them I’d have to leave through the front and walk around.
And I did want to avoid them.
Asher waited in our yard, his guitar hanging from a strap around his chest around his back. He didn’t answer. Instead, he opened his arms and for some crazy reason, I walked straight into them.
The only sound in the backyard, other than my out of whack heart, came from inside my house.
“I was worried,” he said into my hair. “Did he just get home?”
I nodded, my face pressed against his chest.
Asher sighed. Somehow, I felt glad he’d been the one with me earlier when I found Payton. His calm reassurance differing vastly from the response I’d have gotten from my friends if they’d been the ones with me.
“Let’s sit down.” Asher let go of me only to slide his hand into mine. He led me to the wrought iron furniture where we sat a week ago. Only this time, he removed his guitar from around his torso and leaned it against the chair before pulling me down beside him on the loveseat. And again, I let him.