Brant, age 15
Today is June’s ninth birthday, and Aunt Kelly is here because it’s also the nine-year anniversary of my parents’ deaths.
It’s a celebration and a mourning all in one, and it’s a combination I’ll probably never get used to.
The adults are gathered on the patio, chatting beneath the freshly bloomed trees with tea, cappuccinos, and a basket of cookies and muffins I baked, while June and her schoolmates run through sprinklers in the backyard. Yoshi is hiding from the sun beneath the patio furniture, and Theo and his new girlfriend—who happens to be Monica Porter—are cozied up on the swinging bench, lazily kicking their feet as their laughter floats over to me through the screen door.
“You should go this year, Brant,” Mrs. Bailey says, coming up behind me with a tray of vegetables and dips. “Kelly really wants you to.”
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. “It’s June’s birthday. I don’t want to be sad and depressed on her birthday.”
“It’ll always be her birthday on this day. You have to go sooner or later, right?”
A heavy sigh leaves me, and I tug back the lace drapes. Aunt Kelly comes by every year on June first, hoping I’ll finally tag along and visit my mother’s grave.
It’s not that I don’t want to—
Well… maybe it is that I just don’t want to.
I’d rather be here, with June, celebrating another year of her life, instead of wallowing in the life I lost.
I pivot, leaning against one of the table chairs bejeweled in pink and white tissue paper pom-poms and glittered streamers. Tasteful ballerina-themed décor is featured throughout the entire main level, and it looks like a little girl’s dream party.
Mrs. Bailey sets the food tray beside me on the table, deflating with her own sigh. She eyes me in a way I’ve come to expect when she’s about to spew out sage advice that I probably won’t appreciate. “I know you’re scared to go, sweetheart. I know it’s hard. But I’ll never forget what you told June all those years ago at her very first dance recital…” Her flaxen hair glints with specks of silver beneath the recessed lighting, reminding me that she’s getting older.
I’m getting older.
I turned fifteen this past April, and I’m finishing up my last week as a high school freshman. Stubble has sprouted along my jawline. My voice has progressed from young and squeaky to almost manly. A deep baritone settled in over the past year, and while it was an embarrassing transition, it was one of multiple newfound changes.
Scratching at the stubble that always feels itchy, I lift my gaze to Mrs. Bailey, waiting for her to proceed.
She smiles. “You just need to be brave that first time, then all the other times come easy.”
I guess I was the one with the sage advice; she’s just using it against me.
Too bad I’m too much of a coward to take it.
I push up from the chair and shake my head. “Maybe next year,” I murmur, clearing my throat and glancing out through the cracked drapes again. “Do you think they’re ready for cake?”
Changing the subject to pastries sounds more appealing, so I shuffle toward the birthday cake I whipped up, smeared with raspberry frosting and chocolate drizzle.
I love cooking. I love baking.
And according to everyone who eats my food, I’m pretty darn good at it, too.
I think I’ve taken after my mother in that sense, and I wonder if she’d be proud of me.
My sleeveless shirt hangs off my gangly frame as I move. I shot up to nearly six-feet tall, but I’ve hardly filled out in the muscle department yet. Theo lifts weights every day, so he’s bulking up more than me, hoping to try out for the football team next year—I may join him if I can pack on some more weight.
Before I reach the refrigerator, the sliding door squeaks open, and I turn to see a soaking wet June barreling through the threshold. She’s in a swimsuit and pink tutu, her chestnut hair drenched and limp. “Is it cake time?” she chirps. She does a pirouette in the kitchen, gracefully spinning on the ceramic tile with her wet bare feet, then throws me a smile. Her hair is long now; so long, the ends tickle her hips. “I’m starving.”
“Coming right up, Junebug,” I grin.
“June, you’re dripping everywhere,” Mrs. Bailey scolds, shooing her back outside. “And you’re bringing in grass blades… out with you.”
“Cake!” she shouts at me through her giggles, then disappears into the sea of squealing children. Mrs. Bailey pinches the bridge of her nose, laughing lightly, and before she can take the tray outside, the door slides open again. June pokes her head inside, looking frantic. “Brant, I need you! You have to hurry.”
My eyebrow lifts. “Why?”
“There’s no time for questions. It’s an emergency!”
Points for drama and suspense.
Chuckling under my breath, I sweep past Mrs. Bailey, swapping an amused grin, and follow June outside into the unknown “emergency.”
Two minutes later, June is on my back, piggy-back style, her bathing suit soaking through my t-shirt. Long, wet hair smacks the side of my face every time I take a giant stride through the yard, while a mass of sugar-infused nine-year-olds and a tiny Dachshund chase us. Her hands are like prunes from hours in the water, and her high-pitched shrieks batter my eardrums as the children gain on us.
“Faster, Brant, faster!”
“I can’t go any faster. The grass is too wet.”
“You must!”
I fill my cheeks with air and plow forward as June’s grip tightens around my neck, nearly strangling me.
Apparently, there was no emergency. June just wanted to prove that I gave the best piggy-back rides in the world, and now there’s eleven other third-graders on my heels wanting to experience it for themselves.
The things I do for this kid.
“Yeah, Brant… faster!” A different voice calls out to me this time—a familiar voice. When I twist my head to the left, Wendy Nippersink is waving at me from the sidelines in a dangerously short sundress and deadly sparkle in her eyes.
The distraction causes me to slip, and we go down.
Crap.
I reach around my back on instinct, holding June as well as I can as I plummet face first into the sprinkler-soaked grass. Her scream transforms into a fit of giggles when she pinwheels off me, and I just lie there trying to decide if my chin is more bruised than my pride.
It’s not.
Rolling onto my back, I catch my breath as a curtain of ruby red hair inches into my line of sight, hovering above me. Wendy asks worriedly, “Are you all right, Brant?”
Yoshi licks my face, like he’s trying to bring me back to life.
Theo is next to appear, frazzled, racing straight to June. “Holy hell, Peach… you good? Did you break anything?”
“I’m good!” She’s still laughing.
I’m still trying to find a way to erase the last fifteen seconds of my life.
I pull up on my elbows, glancing at June, just to make sure she is good. She appears unscathed, so my heartbeats manage to settle with relief. A swarm of children surround us, followed by Monica and a few of the adults, and I clear my throat, reaching my hand out to June to help her up. “Sorry, Junebug. I guess I deserve to have my title stripped as world’s best piggy-back giver, huh?”
Her nose crinkles, her freckles scattering. “That was really fun! Can we do it again?”
“I wanna do it!”
“My turn!”
June’s friends descend on me, but I’m saved in the nick of time when someone snatches my wrist, dragging me away from the inevitable siege. I glance back over my shoulder at June, catching the way her blue eyes dim as I retreat, despite the hazy sunshine causing the water droplets to glimmer on her skin. My heart falls a little when she slowly sulks away, but the scent of coconut perfume pulls my attention back to the girl who still has her fingers coiled around my wrist.
My skin heats when our eyes meet.
“You sure you’re okay, Sonic?”
I falter, fumbling for words. “Sonic?”
“The hedgehog, dummy.” Her flash of teeth softens the insult. “You’re fast.”
“And clumsy, apparently.”
“Maybe you were just distracted,” she winks, tugging me toward the swinging bench. “Come sit with me.”
Wendy smooths out her mint green sundress that seems to complement the rosy undertones of her hair, then takes a seat. I sit beside her, leaving a few inches between us. Coughing a bit, I wonder, “What are you doing here?”
“Monica texted me. Said there would be cake,” she tells me, studying her crimson-tipped fingernails. “I can’t resist cake.”
The way she looks up at me then has me feeling like I’m the cake.
I gulp. “Cool. I made it myself… it’s raspberry-flavored.”
“My favorite.”
Her cinnamon-dusted eyes look lighter in direct sunlight, almost like copper coins. I feel like I need to break our stare, so I dip my gaze, landing on the cleavage poking out from atop her dress. It’s honestly not a better thing to focus on, but I can’t seem to look away this time. She’s filled out over the past year, growing bustier, looking more like a woman every day.
Making me feel more like a man.
Biting my lip, I force myself to glance back up at her, fidgeting when I notice the little smile creeping into her lips. She caught me gawking at her chest like an idiot.
“Hey, do you want to meet me at the park later? After the party?” she inquires.
“The park?” Swiping my suddenly sweaty palms along my grass-stained thighs, I wonder if there’s something else laced into her invitation. The only time I’ve been to a playground in the past few years has been to take June. “Why do you want to go there?”
She shrugs. “I guess you’ll have to find out.”
I’m pretty sure she’s flirting with me. I gulp again.
“Cake time!” Mrs. Bailey’s voice calls out from the patio, enticing a dozen children to race over to the party table.
June drags behind her friends, looking sluggish and melancholy. Even her tutu looks sad as it hangs off her petite frame. I frown and tell Wendy I’ll be right back, then shoot from the swing and jog over to June. She perks up a little when she spots me coming toward her. “Junebug. Are you having fun?”
“Sure, I guess. Are you having fun?” Her gaze slips around me to where Wendy is languidly swinging on the bench, now joined by Monica.
“I am if you are.”
June’s cheeks stretch into a genuine smile. She takes my hand in hers and guides me to the table where her friends are seated, eagerly awaiting birthday cake. “I’m going to make my birthday wish. Can you sit next to me?”
“Of course, I can.”
Aunt Kelly gives my bicep a gentle squeeze when I sweep past her. “Your mama would be proud,” she says to my retreating back.
I wince slightly, then turn around to give her a small nod.
“Okay, everyone,” Mr. Bailey announces, plucking a lighter from his pocket. He runs a hand through his dark, receding hairline, dotted with a line of sweat. “We want June to have a remarkable day, so we’re going to sing Happy Birthday as loud as we can. Ready?”
“Ready!” the guests shout.
I pull out a chair beside June, watching her face light up with magic. She has dirt stains on her skin and tangles in her hair, but I’ve never seen her look so radiant.
She’s still holding onto my hand as the off-key singing voices ring out around us, and I give it a little squeeze, causing her smile to burst tenfold.
And when the final note is sung, she closes her eyes, gathers in a giant breath, then bends over the table to blow out the candles, my hand still tucked inside of hers.
Everyone claps. She bobs up and down, doing an elegant twirl.
“Happy birthday, Junebug,” I say, matching the joy I see on her face.
June smiles even wider as she leans into me, then whispers against my ear, “I wished for your mom to come back.”
My heart stalls. A rush of air leaves me.
Before I can put together a string of words, June spins away and starts chanting, ‘Cake!’ over and over, while Mr. Bailey passes out plates to outstretched hands.
I stay rooted to my chair as her wish rockets through me. The next twenty minutes spin by like a blur, my mind preoccupied with a different life, my heart thundering with remorse.
I’m slumped back in the chair, staring blankly, when Aunt Kelly announces her departure. She taps my shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to come along, Brant? No pressure, of course, but… it would be a blessing if you did.”
Blinking myself back to reality, I glance up at her, then rise from the folding chair. I scratch at the nape of my neck, thinking of the nicest way to get out of this. “I, uh… think I’m going to stick around for June. I’d hate to leave her party.”
She smiles sadly, knowingly. “I understand. If you ever change your mind, I’m only a phone call away.”
“Thanks, Aunt Kelly.”
She moves in, giving me a strong hug. She always holds onto me a little longer than anyone else who hugs me, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s trying to soak up the remaining remnants of my mother.
Aunt Kelly says the rest of her goodbyes, and the party guests trickle out one by one, until the sun starts to set behind the clouds. Wendy sends me a coy wave as she leaves, Monica trailing behind her, texting furiously, and Theo smacks his girlfriend on the butt before he darts inside the house.
It’s just me and June now. She digs her finger into what’s left of the raspberry frosting on her birthday cake, then licks her lips. “This is so good, Brant. You’re the best cook ever.”
I still feel rattled, but I force a smile. “Only the best for you.”
“You don’t love Wendy more than me, right?”
“What?” Her question takes me off guard, so I turn my body until I’m fully facing her. “Why would you ask me that?”
She shrugs, her hair starting to dry beneath the setting sun. “You looked at her funny. You always look at her funny when she comes over.”
“I don’t…” My mind races with a proper response. “I don’t love Wendy at all. I could never love anyone more than I love you.”
“You mean it?” Her eyes widen to sky-like orbs, looking even bluer outside in the natural light.
“Of course, I mean it.”
“You went to sit with her today, instead of playing with me.”
A tinge of guilt ripples through me. “I’m sorry, June… I didn’t mean to upset you. The older we get, the more friends we’re going to have, so my time will be divided. But you have to know that you’ll always be the most important thing in my life. Theo’s, too.”
She throws her arms around my neck, burying her face against me. I hug her back as she mutters into my shirt collar, “I have the best brothers in the whole world.”
I tense in her embrace, loathing that word.
Truthfully, I don’t know why I loathe it—she’s my adopted sibling, after all. There’s a legal document to prove it. But I’ve never felt anything familial for the Baileys, and I don’t mean that in a negative way. I have always just felt like I’ve grown up in a home with my very best friends, and nothing more. Not for lack of love or connection—not at all. I can’t really explain it. And maybe it doesn’t feel that way for other adopted kids, and that’s wonderful; it’s a beautiful thing to feel like you’re being raised by blood, but for me, it’s simply felt… different.
June pulls back, planting a kiss to my cheekbone. “I’m going to change into my pajamas. Can you watch the new Hannah Montana movie with me?”
“Sure, I—” I cut myself off, remembering my mysterious park date with Wendy. I swallow, backtracking. “Well, not tonight. I’m sorry.”
“But it’s my birthday.”
“I promised another friend I would see them tonight, but I should be home in time to tuck you in and sing you the rainbow song. Would that be okay?”
She scowls. “Are you going to see Wendy?”
I frown, pursing my lips together. I’m not sure why she’s acting so defensive about Wendy. “Yes.”
Tears rush to her eyes, causing a dagger to pierce through my heart. June leaps from her chair, nearly tipping it backward, then stomps her bare feet into the house.
She doesn’t say another word to me.
Even after I freshen up and traipse downstairs with Theo in an attempt to say goodbye. June just watches the television screen in silence, burrowing beneath her fuzzy blanket on the couch, ignoring me. I sigh. I realize she’s only nine, so it shouldn’t hurt me…
But it does.
“You made it!”
Wendy glides back and forth on a swing, her reddish hair separated into two low-hanging pigtails. Monica swings beside her as Theo and I approach from the edge of the playground. Woodchips crunch beneath our sneakers, and I ruffle my hair, clearing the tickle from my throat. “Hey.”
“Lookin’ good, ladies.” Theo spins his baseball cap, front to back. He always knows the right things to say. He’s only a year older than me, but it feels like decades.
Monica hops off the swing and darts toward her boyfriend, leaping into his arms and wrapping her long legs around his middle. Her ashy blonde hair glitters beneath the lamppost. “I missed you,” she squeals, leaning into him.
They kiss.
They kiss for a long time, tongues tangling, and groaning noises sounding from both of them.
I’m only standing a foot away, so it’s awkward. I glance at Wendy, causing her to dip her chin as she bites at her lip, a smiling hinting. Not knowing what else to do while Theo and Monica suck face, I stuff my hands into my denim pockets and saunter over to her on the swing. “So…”
She looks up, like she’s waiting for more.
I’ve got nothing.
A giggle slips, and she nods her head to the swing beside her. “Sit.”
“Okay.”
I do what I’m told, collapsing onto the swing seat and pushing myself back and forth with my feet. I look over at Wendy, and she looks at me. We laugh, then glance away.
“Have you ever kissed a girl before?”
Her question has me choking on absolutely nothing. Swallowing back a coughing fit, I heave in a deep breath and shake my head. My cheeks feel hot as mortification sets in. “No… have you?”
She smiles, mischief lighting up her eyes. “Nope. I haven’t kissed a girl before.”
I realize my poorly executed question and duck my head, that stupid Katy Perry song springing to mind. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I know,” she says, making a hissing sound as she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. “I kissed a boy once. Last summer at the carnival. He won me one of those stuffed animal prizes, so I felt like I owed him, you know?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“He’s not the one I wanted to kiss, though.”
My lips suddenly feel dry, so I lick them. “No?”
Wendy shakes her head back and forth, digging the toe of her sandal into the woodchips. When she looks up at me, blush stains her cheeks. “I wanted to kiss you, Brant Elliott.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because I like you.”
I suppose that’s a sensible enough reason. “Is that why you asked me to come here tonight? To kiss me?”
“Maybe.”
My belly flutters with unfamiliar feelings. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with this information.
Maybe I’m supposed to kiss her.
Monica laughs loudly when Theo picks her up, propping her over his shoulder, so she’s dangling upside down. “Put me down, Theo! You better, or I swear you’re not getting any tonight.”
Getting any.
I know that means sex.
Theo and I are close, so we’ve talked about sex—specifically, the fact that he’s having it and I’m not. His first time was with Monica Porter earlier this year. He’d snuck out of the house through his bedroom window, just like in the movies. I guess they both had sex together for the first time in the back of Monica’s parents’ Land Rover, which sounded uncomfortable to me, but Theo said it was one of the greatest moments of his whole life.
He told me I should try it, too.
I swallow, returning my attention to Wendy. Her eyes darken. Reining in my courage, I ask her, “Ever had sex before?” My skin flushes as the words spew out of me, and I’m really hoping she doesn’t notice.
Wendy’s eyebrows lift, like she wasn’t anticipating the question. “Oh, um… no. Just that one kiss.”
“Yeah, same here.” I backtrack, clearing my throat again. “I mean, the sex part. But I’m sure that’s obvious, considering I haven’t kissed anybody.”
I think I’m rambling. I feel kind of sweaty, too.
Wendy pops up from the swing and holds a hand out to me. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Just for a little walk.”
Theo and Monica are lost in their own world, so I fight back my nerves and accept Wendy’s offer, clutching her hand in mine and standing from the swing. We stroll through the park, hand-in-hand, as a light, early summer breeze skims our faces. “So…”
“So,” she repeats through a laugh. “Are you going to kiss me, or what?”
“What?”
We stop walking, and Wendy swivels toward me, a timid smile still in place. “The ‘what’ wasn’t an actual option, you know.”
She bites her lip again, and I drop my gaze to the gesture. Gritting my teeth together, I inhale sharply. “Right. I know.”
“Well? Are you?”
No. Maybe. Probably. Yes.
My heart thumps wildly. “I’m thinking about it.” Cursing myself for being a chickenshit, I scrub a palm down my face and tell my jackknifing heart to shut up. Then I raise both hands and cup her cheeks, maybe a little too roughly. She gasps in surprise, so I loosen my grip. “Sorry…”
Wendy’s tongue pokes out to moisten her lips as she glances at mine. “I’m not.”
“This is okay?”
“Yes. It’s more than okay. It’s what I’ve been thinking about for years.”
“Years, huh?” Gnawing at the inside of my cheek, I flick my thumbs across her jaw. “That’s a long time to be thinking about kissing someone.”
“I’m certain it’ll be worth the wait.”
Our eyes float back to each other’s for an instant before I lean in, my breaths coming quick and unsteady. Nerves siphon through me, and I beg my body not to tremor like an inexperienced fool. I part my lips, and so does she. Dipping closer, I inhale a final breath before closing the gap between us, my mouth fusing with hers. I kiss her lightly at first; just a tickle or caress. We just kind of hover, her hands lifting to my hips and resting along my belt.
Wendy makes a little squeaky sound, something like a gasp. I take it as an invitation to kiss her deeper, flicking my tongue against her upper lip. She makes the sound again, louder this time.
And then her tongue plunges into my mouth, causing my balance to teeter and my skin to flush hot. It almost feels like an out of body experience as I grip her face between my palms, the tips of my fingers twining through her hair while we kiss.
She holds me tighter, our lower bodies pressed together. I wonder if she feels what my body is doing. I wonder if it scares her.
“Brant,” she whispers in a scratchy voice, pulling away slightly. “You’re a really good kisser.”
My eyes flutter closed. “Am I?”
I feel her nod in my grip. “I’d like to keep kissing you. All night if you’ll let me.”
“Yeah, I’d like…” I’m about to concede. My body is begging me to concede. But something stops me, and I pull back farther, opening my eyes. I told June I’d be home early enough to tuck her into bed—it’s her birthday, after all, and I can’t let her down. “Actually, I should probably go. I told June I’d tuck her in, and it’s getting pretty late.”
Wendy’s forehead furrows as she slicks her tongue along her lips. “You want to stop kissing, just to tuck your little sister into bed?”
I’m not sure I like the implication woven into her tone. “Yes.” Then I add, “And she’s not my sister.”
“Okay, then.” She pulls away from me, smoothing out her hair. “Have fun.”
“You sound angry.”
“I’m not angry. Just disappointed, I guess.”
“It’s not like we can never kiss again. I just have something else I need to do tonight.”
“Something more important, you mean.”
I take a step back, until we’re at least a foot apart. “Well, yeah. It is, actually.”
Wendy folds her arms over her chest, pursing her lips as she looks away. Her cheeks are tinted pink, and I’m not sure if it’s because of our kiss, or because she’s mad that the kiss is over.
She looks upset with me, and that doesn’t feel fair.
Inhaling a quivering breath, Wendy still refuses to make eye contact. “Maybe my brother was right. Wyatt said I was wasting my time pining over you. Said you weren’t worth it.”
“That’s nice,” I mutter bitterly. Just the sound of Wyatt’s name has my blood boiling with painful memories. He was awful to me during the most vulnerable time of my life.
They both were.
And now all I can think about is the fact that I left June alone on her birthday to kiss a girl who used to torment me.
I keep pacing backward. “I’m going to go. Have a nice night, Wendy.”
She seems to fluster at my departure, softening her stance. “Brant, wait,” she says. “I didn’t mean it like that, you know. I’m just feeling a little rejected here.”
“It wasn’t a rejection,” I tell her. “It was a ‘to be continued.’ But I’m not sure I want to continue it now.”
Wendy’s eyes go wide.
“See you at school on Monday.” I spin around fully, marching back through the park and heading home. I pass Theo and Monica cozied up in one of the play structures making out, so I holler a goodbye before I disappear.
“You’re leaving?” Theo asks, poking his head out above the slide.
“Yeah, I’ll see you at home.”
“Okay… see you there, Luigi.”
“Later, Mario.”
And then I break out into a run, racing down the quiet sidewalk until I reach our secluded neighborhood of towering trees and a single gravel road. The rocks crunch beneath my soles, my lungs burning with adrenaline. I run all the way to my front door, then push inside, glancing around the front room for June.
But it’s only Mr. and Mrs. Bailey snuggled up on the terracotta-toned sofa, whipping their heads in my direction as I plow into the house like a hurricane. “Brant? Everything okay?”
Instinctively, I swipe at my mouth, as if they can tell by just looking at me that I’d been locking lips with Wendy Nippersink. “I’m fine. Where’s June?”
“She went to bed about fifteen minutes ago,” I’m told.
My heart stutters. She went to bed without my lullabies and storybooks—without my promise that I’d be there to tuck her in. She was probably devastated.
I fly up the stairs.
“Don’t wake her, Brant,” Mrs. Bailey calls up to me. “She’s probably already asleep.”
“I won’t.”
I’m a liar, but I’d rather be a liar than a promise-breaker.
Carefully poking my head through the crack in her door, I glance inside the shadowy room that’s brightened only by her ballerina nightlight. There’s a lump beneath the bedcovers with a little brown head of hair peeking out. A gray elephant rests under her chin.
Ignoring Mrs. Bailey’s warning, I step into the room.
“Brant?” June sits up straight, her hair a mess of static.
Thank goodness.
I race to her bedside, falling to my knees and instantly taking her hand in mine. “Junebug… I’m sorry I was late.”
She studies me in the dark, her eyes sad. “I waited up for you.”
“I’m really glad you did. Do you forgive me?”
“I guess,” she shrugs. June pulls Aggie closer to her chest, wrapping both arms around him. “Did my birthday wish come true?”
My insides clench. Her innocent nine-year-old wish thunders through me, wreaking more havoc than it should.
It warms me, too.
It warms me because little girls should be wishing for roller skates, or a new bike, or dolls that talk and cry. They shouldn’t be wishing for things like that.
But she wished it for me, and that’s everything.
Sweeping my hand over her forehead, I smile softly. “That wish can’t come true, June. When people die, they don’t come back. It was really nice of you to ask it, though.”
“What’s the point of wishes, then?” she frowns.
“Well… I’m not really sure. They give a lot of people hope, I guess.”
“I’d rather that they just come true.”
“Yeah,” I chuckle lightly. “Me, too.”
June looks up at the ceiling, her racing thoughts twinkling in her eyes. “Brant? If that wish won’t come true, can I wish for something else?”
“Sure.”
“Okay… I wish that we can be together forever.”
“Forever, huh?”
She nods, picking at one of Aggie’s worn ears. “Forever and ever. That one will come true, right?”
I hope so, Junebug.
And sometimes, hope is all we have.
“I bet it will,” I say, kissing her on the temple and rising to my feet. I turn to leave the room, pausing in the doorway to whisper two final words into the dark, “Happy birthday.”
I bet you’re wondering if June’s wish came true.
I’d love to tell you that, but it would spoil the ending of the story.
And to understand the end, you need to know the middle.
I’ll warn you, though—it’s not a pretty middle. It’s messy and complicated, and at times, soul-crushing beyond comprehension.
I’m going to fast forward three more years, to a snowy afternoon in December. I still think about that day, even after all this time. It still haunts me. It still keeps me up at night.
It was the day I feared June’s birthday wish was lost forever…
