Page 24 of The True-Blue Romance

“Swoop in and fix everything!”

A stricken look falls over Joey’s face at my words. I want to reach out, tell him I don’t mean it, that I love him so much. That I wish I could let him swoop in and fix my whole fucking life, but every time he does it, I fall more in love, and that is slowly destroying me more than keeping a secret from him ever could.

“I want to be your best friend,” Joey admits with a terrible tremble in his voice.

“You are my best friend.”

“Then let me be one! I like taking care of you and helping… I always have. Since—” Joey pauses and seems to collect his thoughts before continuing. “Since that day in the locker room in fucking tenth grade, okay? I don’t want you to ever be in pain and not tell me.”

“That’s nasty work,” I say, shocked he’d stoop so low.

He’d found me in the locker room in tenth grade nursing a broken rib after a particularly rough fight with my father. That had led to Cindy and David putting their foot down with my father. I never knew if that made him hate me more or less. At least he’d stopped hitting me, but he’d been worse in other ways afterward.

“What happened?”

I sigh and cover my face with my hands for the second time this evening. “He ended up in the hospital again because they thought he was drunk and disorderly. But he was just sober and has dementia. So, we found him room at a facility in the city. I haven’t seen him since he was admitted. He isn’t ready to see me.”

“You’ve gone to see him?” Joey asks, obviously confused.

“He’s my dad.”

Joey grunts and spins around, walking a few paces down the orange grove before spinning around to pin me with a very severe look. “You don’t have to see your abusive father. You did more than most children would. You can stop now.”

I don’t know what to do with that. Yeah, I probably should just dump my father and leave him. Move on and forget about him. I don’t know how to explain why I keep seeing him, or why I keep wanting to see him. I also don’t want Joey and Beau mad at me; they’re all I’ve got at the end of the day. I rub my hand over my heart where it pounds away in my chest. I can feel the tightness starting, the very beginning of an anxiety attack. But it goes away as soon as Joey steps forward and tugs me into the circle of his arms. He’s an inch or so shorter than me, not as broad, definitely not as heavy, but in his arms I always feel smaller, like I was made to be held by him.

“I love you,” Joey whispers into my hair. “I love you so much. I just want you to count on me. Whatever you do, whatever you decide, you’ve got me and Beau until the end of time.”

“That rhymed.” I take a deep breath of Joey’s amber-and-sandalwood scent, wishing I could bury myself into him. “You know how I am.”

“I know.” Joey runs his hands over my back as he presses kisses to the top of my head. “I’m sorry I hate your dad so much. But whatever you wanna do, I’ll be there for you. No matter what that entails.”

“Even if I decide to see him every day until he dies?”

“Even if you decide that,” Joey promises, and I believe him. He sways us back and forth between the citrus trees. Their sweet scent, combined with the smell of Joey in my lungs, lulls me into a sense of comfort that I had hoped to gain from the evening. “Remember that time we gorged ourselves on oranges on our lunch break that one summer because we couldn’t eat one more watermelon after pitching them all summer long?”

“Yeah, so worth it though. I couldn’t eat another slice of watermelon that summer without yacking.”

“Oranges always make me think of you now.”

I pull away to look into Joey’s eyes. Our faces are an inch apart; I can feel his breath on my cheeks with each of his exhales. He has a little stubble on his chin, but mostly he’s clean-shaven, and he’s always been that way. Makes him look younger and softer to my rough and rugged. My perfect counterpart.

“Why do oranges make you think of me?” I whisper, curling my fingers into Joey’s hips.

“They’re sweet, and I always want them.”

“Oh.”

Joey’s eyes flit between mine, warm and unhurried. “You tasted like oranges when I kissed you senior year.”

My heart stills at the memory. My chapped lips. His wry smile when I’d tearfully admitted I didn’t think I’d ever get kissed. The way his breath smelled like Coke because he’d just decimated a glass bottle after a hot day in the fields. The kiss had been here, then gone, nothing more than a memory that I sometimes wonder if I imagined it. Apparently not though. And Joey remembers it just as vividly.

Joey lifts his hand to cup my cheek again. My heart is doing this weird flip in my chest, like it wants to break loose and run a victory lap. But I stay perfectly still as Joey cups my cheeks, rubbing his thumbs under my eyes. His eyes are so brown and wide, but I can’t read the intention in his words clearly. I’ve always been a little stupid when it comes to Joey. As a teen it meant I fumbled around him, so I just made myself quieter, letting him lead more of our conversations instead. It’s better now after years of friendship, but I still fall back on that fat kid in love with the new kid.

Joey moves forward an inch and my entire body stills.

“Joey! Lee!” Beau’s familiar voice calls out.

I jump away from Joey like I’ve been struck by lightning. But he’s just staring at me, that same confused, considering look in his gaze as earlier. I swallow hard against the rock in my throat and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. I step out of the orange grove and into the row that leads back toward the hill. I wave over at a curious-looking Beau.