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I text Garrison: do you have time for a phone call?
His reply comes seconds later as the Caller ID lights up with his name. I spend the rest of the night filling him in. Saying the words out loud to Garrison makes it feel even more real.
february
35
willow moore
I’ve been tasked with “cake” pickup for Daisy’s birthday. It also happens to be a joint bachelor/bachelorette party. My first I’ve ever attended, but I’m not covered in a nervous sweat or anything. It’s supposed to be a super lowkey gathering at Connor and Rose’s mansion. Just the core six, me and…my boyfriend.
A goofy smile expands across my face, just thinking the words. Garrison and I have been dating for months now—since September—but there still hasn’t been a kiss. I’m more comfortable with his touches than I’ve ever been.
Handholding. Hugging. Lying on the same bed together.
It’s been nice, and there’ve been a couple times I could’ve seen myself kissing Garrison. Like during the summer when fireworks lit the sky.
Yet, I was too chicken to make the first move. And he didn’t attempt it.
I realize I’m the one who chose the tortoise-slow pace, and I might have to be the one to initiate a faster one. But I don’t know how to go about that without descending in my head and becoming a mess of nerves.
Anyway, I’m trying to focus on good things. Birthdays. Bachelor/bachelorette parties.
“I can’t believe they ordered a dick cake.” Garrison’s eyes flit to the box on my lap. It indeed has a cake inside. Shaped like a giant penis.
Garrison’s hand tightens on his Mustang’s steering wheel, driving back from the bakery. His eyes meet mine briefly, and his brows rise. “It was a choice.”
We’re both near laughter. “Did you expect anything less from them?”
He shakes his head. “Not really.” He glances from the box to me. “You want me to carry it in?”
“No, I can do it.” Though that does cause a wave of anxiety, but I want to push through it for Daisy. It’s her birthday after all. My eyes flit to the clock. We’re running behind. Traffic near the bakery was a nightmare. Luckily, it’s mostly cleared up now.
Garrison follows my gaze. “Hold on.”
He accelerates, speeding all the way to the gated neighborhood.
“I don’t know if I can eat that,” Lily says, eyes narrowed as Ryke cuts the head of the…dick cake.
The eight of us pack into Connor and Rose’s enormous kitchen, fit with state-of-the-art appliances. I’ve chosen a nice alcove by the expensive toaster.
It’s the furthest spot from Ryke.
Ever since I found out he’s my brother, I’ve been avoiding him. I haven’t even spoken about Jonathan Hale (AKA my dad) since my conversation with Lo.
Change is hard.
But this change feels monumental, and I know I’m taking the cowardly route by dodging the reality. But we can’t all be Dorothy in the Land of Oz—brave and bold. At least, not all the time.
I’ve let this avoidance fester so long that anytime Ryke tries to talk to me, it’s this big awkward mess. Ryke Meadows is like a brooding, teeth-bared wolf, unapproachable and protectively menacing, and that’s just how I felt before he became my brother.
Now that we’re related, I can barely step a pinky toe in his direction without cowering. It’s ten times worse.
I never saw him filling this brotherly role in my life, and since I’m dating Garrison—that’s two brothers I have with opinions on my very first relationship.
It’s a lot.
Ryke looks to Lily and says, “It’s just a fucking cake.”
I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. Garrison’s shoulder presses right next to mine. It’s nice that anytime I’m invited to something, he’s automatically invited too. We’re a pair now. And even though I never felt like a seventh wheel with the core six, him being with me brings this sense of completion. Like it was always meant to be eight.
Garrison leans casually against the refrigerator, an unlit cigarette peeking from the pocket of his leather jacket. His eyes are on me. Mine on him. It’s hard to set them anywhere else when I feel the most comfort swallowed up in his orbit.
“Why’d you take so long?” Lo asks accusingly.
Garrison swings his head to my brother. “We pulled over to fuck,” he says dryly.
Oh…God.
I am used to his sarcasm, but not in front of my brothers. Not like this.
Ryke’s jaw hardens. Lo’s sharpens.
I choke on a breath. “We…didn’t.”
“They know that,” Garrison tells me.
Connor makes a pot of coffee. “It’s as though you want them to hate you.” That actually might be true. I think he feels undeserving of their kindness, so he pushes them away.
Garrison pauses before saying, “That’s stupid.”
“You said it, not me,” Connor states.
“Who wants the head?” Daisy asks, raising a plate with a slice of cake. I give her an appreciative look for the interjection and then spin towards the freezer, grabbing a tub of vanilla ice cream.
