Page 86 of Dandelions and Smoke

Lucas kisses the top of Lettie’s head and squeezes my shoulder before he and Sammy head toward the house. One glance at the food tables tells me there are water bottles right there, and even though I’m sure Lettie will fill Lucas in on everything, I appreciate the way they protect me. Not that the six-foot-six giant is all that scary, but it’s easier to share the hard stuff when there are fewer people. Especially when sharing it at all seems overwhelming.

“Alright, it’s just us girls. Spill,” Lettie urges.

With a deep breath, I let it out.

All of it.

I tell them all about Jasenia showing up and how she’s basically blackmailing me and forcing my hand. How I’ve been so destroyed inside about all of this that talking to my friends feels too close to home, and how instead I’ve been ignoring everyone altogether. How I’m drowning in sadness as the guilt of not telling any of them the truth eats me alive.

“You have to tell them,” Hannah says, shocked. “They’ll want to help.”

“They’ll want to kill her,” Abby adds, a mischievous expression on her face like she wouldn’t blame them and is already plotting which one of her brothers she would need to call to get away with it.

“Tris might. Hell, if someone would let me up, then I can take care of her myself. Who does she think she is?”

“Jasenia’s right. She can make Chief’s life hell and draw it out until he hates me anyway,” I say, my voice trembling.

“You don’t know that,” Hannah argues gently, trying to be encouraging.

“There’s no way any of your friends are going to let this, or you go, Ror. You’re their family. Just like you’re ours.”

Lettie’s words have fresh tears brimming along the edges of my eyes. Pressing my lips together, I blink hard, forcing them down.

“You have to promise me you won’t tell them. That you won’t call Tris and tell her everything.” I point at Lettie, knowing she and Tris still talk from time to time after everything that happened with their dads and have gotten to know each other better through the few Framily Book Club video chats she’s joined us for.

She stares back at me until her expression loses its edge and she relents with a sigh. “Fine, but I still think you should tell them.”

“Yeah. You don’t have to do this alone,” Abby murmurs.

“I’m not alone,” I remind them as the boys return with water bottles for each of us. “I’ve got all of you, and for that I’m forever grateful.”

I peel off the label of the water bottle while the words hang, heavier than I expect them to. I’m not used to admitting when I’m struggling, or to letting people see the mess before I’ve cleaned it up. But no one looks at me like I’ve fallen apart. No one rushes to fix me or tells me I’m overreacting. For some reason, that helps more than anything.

I take a long swig from my water bottle, letting the cold water ground me. The ache of embarrassment is still there, along with the leftover sting of letting too much spill out, but the panic has loosened its grip. I can breathe again.

Before I can force myself back into planning mode, the barn doors open.

Reed, captain of the Tampa Bay Hawks and one of the many “big brothers” I know I can count on, steps inside. He’s probably here early to help, completely unaware that his timing couldn’t be more perfect.

Or that he’s exactly the distraction I need.

“Look,” I say, shifting everyone’s attention toward him. “Twinkle-Toes is here!”

The familiar nickname earns the reaction I was hoping for. A few laughs break through the tension, and just like that, the heaviness hanging over the room begins to fade. Reed looks around, probably wondering what he’s walked into, but he doesn’t question it. He joins in. With him here, the weight on my shoulders feels a little lighter.

With Reed’s help, we get back to work. Within twenty minutes, everything looks perfect and is ready for the celebration.

A little while later, so am I.

Throughout the shower, I help with all of the games and announcements, grinning every time one of these big, burly men gets all teary-eyed at the mention of their newest addition. Despite my earlier meltdown, no one mentions it, and everyone allows me to return to my bubbly, good-time-having self without any protests.

And I do.

The barn quickly fills with laughter, conversations overlapping in the best kind of chaos, and the familiar warmth of people who make any place feel like home. I bounce from one group to the next, checking in, sharing laughs, and soaking in the sight of everyone enjoying themselves. Since neither Lettie nor Lucas has many family members, they’ve opted for a coed shower so everyone they consider their family can be here celebrating together.

During the ‘blindfolded diaper change’ game, I actually need to stand on a chair in order to see down the long line of men to judge. I’ve never seen anything so intense and yet so ridiculous. It looks like the last face-off of one of their hockey games, and every one of them is determined to win. Somehow, a diaper ends up on one of the dolls’ heads, and it’s now been decided that Twinkle Toes will need to attend at least three mommy-and-me classes before being allowed to babysit.

Lettie, Hannah, Abby, Cecy, and I laugh until we’re near tears as we watch the guys compete in the ‘waddle for the bottle relay’. We laugh so hard that I actually start to get worried that Lettie is going to go into labor right here. I’ve never realized putting a beach ball between men’s legs and having them race one another could be so entertaining.