Page 112 of Level Up for Love

I freeze and turn.

Arthur gives me one of those thin-lipped almost smiles, his expression nearly disappearing into his overgrown vacation beard. He’s a little young, but honestly, he could make a passable Santa.

I sigh through my nose. “Hey, Art.”

“Merry Christmas, Reagan,” he says as he takes his order. “How’s it going?”

I rub the back of my neck. “It’s been hectic.” It hasn’t. “The holidays were fun.” Not really, but they were distracting. “How are you?”

“I can’t complain. I’m bringing the girls their favorites; they were in the mood for a treat. Just waiting on the bacon-and-egg now.”

“Do you want to sit while you wait?” I ask awkwardly. It occurs to me that I’ve barely spoken to anyone outside of my family all month. I haven’t even mustered up the bravery to get back to Nali—about the opportunity or about current events.

I feel out of touch.

Arthur levels a gaze at me, and I can’t help but feel like he’s looking through me, peering into my head. There are a few beats of silence before he finally nods. “All right.”

As we settle in at my table, I find myself hoping the barista calls out his finished order soon. Seeing Arthur again just reminds me of the last time I saw him and everyone else, in Vermont. I remember how proud Arthur had been to show us around the cabin, and how at dinner, Colin made Shay laugh so hard that Diet Coke had come out of her nose. I remember how tightly Mona gripped the table during each in-game reveal, and the night I shared with Wesley afterward.

I’ve tried to forget the way his voice broke when he said, Loving is staying—and the way his face had fallen when I left anyway.

There’s a sudden pang in my ribs and a tightness behind my eyes.

I clear my throat. “Hey, congratulations to Shay. Mona told me about her acceptance.”

Arthur’s eyes start to shine. “Thank you. We’re very proud of her.”

“Will you miss her?”

His laugh is gravelly and a little wet. “What kind of question is that? Of course we will.”

“Has she ever lived that far away?”

Even with his rugged features, Arthur’s expression turns gentle. He knows where this is going. “Nope. My girl’s never lived outside of Connecticut.”

“Mona, neither.” Me, neither. I pick at the chipped wood of the table. “I’ve never lived farther than twenty minutes from her before.” I take a shuddering breath. “We’ve just always been there for each other, y’know? I’m handling it badly.”

“Do you want an old man’s advice?”

“Probably not, but I’ll take yours.”

He flashes me the ghost of a smile. “Good one. Listen, if I’ve learned anything by talking to Shay about this, it’s that maybe the best way you can show up for her is by letting her go. Respect what she wants and what she’s trying to achieve. Show her that you trust her to make the best decision for herself, and that you believe in her.” He looks sympathetically at me. “Won’t make you any less of her sister. She’ll never stop needing you.”

I nod and sip at my coffee, which has gone a bit cold. I curl my fingers around the mug’s base. I shouldn’t ask, but I do. “How’s Wesley?”

“Hurt,” Arthur says bluntly.

“Has he…talked to you about it?”

“Nope, but it’s not hard to tell.”

The barista calls Arthur’s name, but he doesn’t move, just holds my gaze. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but despite the hotshot persona that boy puts up sometimes…I think he’s having a rough go of things. He can take things real personal, and I don’t think he’s going to come to you first.” Internally, I sigh. We have that in common, I think with some resigned fondness. And yet, Arthur regards me with a measure of respect, even as he stands. “You seem like the sort who’s got a little more mettle. If you want to fix things, it might have to come from you.”

His beard twitches again, and I see a half smile. “And I hope you do, y’know, want to fix things. Would be a real shame if I didn’t get to see my character claim his secret birthright prophesied by his god,” he says casually.

I laugh lightly. “Did you know he was going to do that? Was that part of your backstory?”

He lets out a low whistle. “Hell no. I had no idea.”

“He’s good at what he does,” I admit.

“The best I’ve seen. He’s a treasure.” Arthur gives me another nod before picking up his sandwich and heading on his way.

I sit in the coffee shop for a long time after Arthur leaves and let my mind wander. Eventually, I take out a pen and the blank journal I got for Christmas from an aunt I don’t know well, and I lay them atop the table. It’s not my usual medium of keyboard and screen, but something Arthur said about Wesley sparked an idea in the back of my mind, and I want to get my thoughts out before they fade away.

Five text-and-doodle-filled pages later, I set the notebook aside. Figuring out how to fix things with Wesley is going to take time. But with my sister?

I text Mona, Do you want to come have coffee with me? I want to catch up and hear more about Portland.

Her reply is immediate.

I’d love to.