Hold on to Hope

Held my secrets in the palms of his hands.

Never looked at me any different when he did.

I couldn’t love him more.

I hoped it wasn’t stingy that some of it had to do with the fact he’d saved Evan.

Physically.

Emotionally.

He’d given him a family when he hadn’t had a father to show him what a man should be like. Given him an example of what love should be. How to treat someone right. How could I not adore him for that?

“Hey, that’s all y’alls fault.” I pointed around at the faces who’d given me the best kind of childhood. “It wouldn’t have been a problem if you wouldn’t have forbidden me from doing all the fun things.”

“Yeah because you ran right for danger,” Daddy said. “Dove into it, half the time. Thinking you could fly when you didn’t have wings.”

“That’s because you all kept trying to cut them off,” I returned. “I even got in trouble for jumping off the cliffs, and if there’s even an ounce of truth to the stories you’ve been tellin’ my entire life, all of you were doin’ way worse.” I feigned my disappointment as I looked at Daddy, Uncle Kale, and Uncle Ollie.

Uncle Ollie chuckled a low rumble of guilt.

Evan shifted in his chair, something soft pulling at one side of his mouth.

And I knew he was thinking about all the times we’d been here.

Running.

Flying.

Soaring.

Our lives nothing but laughter and joy and hope.

Okay, and a whole lot of trouble, too. I think we’d found ourselves in time out more than we’d had time to play. It was funny how those memories were just as wonderful.

Wistfulness pressed down on my chest.

Nostalgia.

A fierce kind of longing that pulsed and begged and whispered to be restored.

I’d do anything to reclaim it. To find that time again. When we’d truly believed that as long as we stuck together, we’d be okay.

Evan watched me like he was thinking the exact same thing.

The boy so gorgeous where he was lit up in the glimmer of the flames, the shadows tracing his and Everett’s faces.

I wanted to reach out and touch the lines. To maybe claim the frame as my own.

I dropped my gaze when I realized I’d been staring too long, cleared my throat, and took a gulp of my wine.

“I had your back, Sweet Pea. I kept telling them to let you be. Girls need to figure out who they are, and it became clear really fast you were our wild child,” Aunt Nikki told me with a wink. “And there’s no use trying to take the wild out of a wild child.”

“At least someone around here got me,” I teased with a laugh.

Energy flashed. This enticing lure that wrapped me whole. Evan’s attention trained, a promise that he had always gotten me.

Better than anyone else.

“Hey, don’t forget about me. I had your back, too.” Carly’s voice was pure feigned affront. “I was always game for whatever escapade you conjured up. I mean, except for the one where you wanted to climb to the very top of that tree.” Carly pointed at the massive Cyprus that grew off to the side of the lake.

“Hey, that was gonna make one heck of a tree house.”

“And guess who volunteered to carry up the wood.” Carly wasn’t even asking, she was just staring across the fire at Evan.

My partner in crime.

My partner in everything.

“He had two big ol’ planks strapped to his back, totally off balance, and he still thought he was going to scale that thing,” Carly said.

“Frankie needs wood, she gets wood.” That raw, raspy voice hit the air, amusement fluttering all through Evan’s expression.

Um, what?

My eyes bugged right out of my head, and I was trying to fight the urge to get up and run, or maybe laugh, or maybe just hug him because I thought it was the first joke I’d heard him make since he got back and it was so like something he would have said way back then.

Josiah spewed out the beer he had taken a gulp of, his hands fumbling like they were laughing as he signed. OH, I BET MARS BAR WOULD BE HAPPY TO GIVE FRANKIE A LITTLE WOOD.

The jerk actually waggled his brows.

Oh my God. It just got worse.

Evan chuckled a scraping laugh and shook his head like he was innocent of the whole thing.

I swear, Josiah should have been kicked out of ASL because he sure didn’t need that as his secret language.

“I will cut off your hands,” I whisper-shouted at Josiah. “You and Evan are not allowed to hang out. Put you two together, and you’re worse than a pack of fourteen-year-old boys.”

Josiah only hooted louder. Clearly the boy had put a dent in that stock of beer.

“Hardly,” Mom cut in, “I have to live with Preston, remember? If I find one more penis drawn on something, I’m going to lose it.”