The Season of You & Me (22 page)

THAT NIGHT, ALONE IN MY ROOM, I SAT IN THE
dark by the window, entranced by the storm that Leslie had mentioned earlier in the day. Rain pounded on the roof. Brilliant flashes of lightning lit up the inky dark. Thunderclaps rumbled and rattled the house. The storm was violent and alive.

I grabbed my phone to review the last scavenger-hunt clue, the one we hadn’t figured out yet.

Sparkle in the sun

Rough in the sand

Lucky is the person

Who finds one in their hand

Mr. Beckett was not exactly Shakespeare with the clues.
Rough in the sand?

A massive boom cracked and set off a car alarm. A lightning flash lit up the room and I shrieked. A small figure holding a stuffed shark stood in my doorway.

Hunter.
He had to stop doing that.

“Hey, buddy, sorry, are you okay?” He shook his head and padded over to me, burying his face in my shoulder. I hugged him.

“I hate thunder,” he said.

“You? Hate thunder? And here I thought you weren’t afraid of anything.”

“I’m not afraid, I just don’t like it when it’s this loud. The house is shaking. Could I stay with you?”

“Yeah—how about we go down to your room; it’s cooler there,” I said.

A red spaceship night-light was all that illuminated Hunter’s room. I swallowed a scream when I stepped on a Lego, but managed to navigate our way to his rumpled bed, ignoring the throbbing pain in the arch of my foot. He slid onto his star-scape sheets. I pulled the blanket up around him and handed him his shark.

“Can you lay down with me?”

“Okay, shove over,” I said, picking up the cover.

We lay side by side, Hunter clutching his stuffed shark, Eddie. And me, hands above the blanket and clasped across my stomach. The storm raged on for a while, but finally began letting up, the booms becoming more distant. I let the clue play over in my head again.

“You think that baby is going to change everything?” Hunter asked. I’d thought he’d fallen asleep. I tried not to laugh at the way he said
that baby.

“I guess. Babies kind of come in and change things, but maybe not everything. What are you worried about?”

“I like being the little brother. I don’t want to be a big brother,” he answered.

“Well, you’ll always be my little brother, but then you also get to be someone’s big brother. That’s pretty cool that you can be both.”

“Will you be the new baby’s half sister too?”

I hadn’t given it much thought, but when I heard him say it, it sounded odd. The fractured family I was part of was growing. I had Mom and Nan. Dad and Leslie. Hunter. And now I was going to be half sister to a brand-new human being. My family was going to need my help, and I wanted to be there for them. Maybe it called for more weekend visits throughout the year. I couldn’t imagine how crazy next summer might be with a baby around. I wanted to be there for everything. I smiled.

“Yes.”

He sniffled. I turned. In the red glow of the night-light I saw a single wet stream rolling down his cheek.

“I just like you being mine.”

I nudged him. “Aw, Hunter, don’t be upset. You know, babies aren’t much fun at first. I won’t be able to play
Whack-a-Shark with it. Or take it for slushes.”

His sniffling turned to giggles. “Babies don’t drink slushes.”

I went with it. “Of course not, but someday the baby will want a slush, and you’re going to have to help. How else will it know that sour cherry makes your tongue feel like pins are sticking in it?”

“Or that blue raspberry makes it turn bright blue.”

“See, there you go,” I said.

He snuggled his head against my shoulder.

“Cassidy?”

“Yes?”

“Can I just call you . . . sister? Not half sister?”

His voice was so innocent, my heart melted. I gave him a kiss on the forehead.

“As long as I can call you brother,” I said.

“Deal.”

He shifted over to his side. I turned to my side too, so we were back-to-back. The rain slowed down to a light patter. His breathing became deep and even. My eye caught the collection of items at the base of his night-light. A shell. Some sea glass. His great-white action figure. A peg-legged pirate. And the Crest Haven diamond that I’d found for him. A souvenir from the night Bryan and I made our new better memory. I reached over and picked it up, held it between my thumb and index finger so the red light sparkled through it.

Sparkled.

That’s it! The answer to the clue!

I reached for my phone, but realized I’d left it upstairs.

I sat upright, nearly pulling the covers from Hunter. He shifted his position, smacked his lips a few times, but thankfully remained asleep. I slipped out, tucked the blanket around him, and tiptoed upstairs to my room. I grabbed my phone from the chair where I’d left it and plopped down onto my bed. I read the clue again.

Crest Haven diamond
made perfect sense. Now how did it fit with the others?

Without thinking I texted Bryan.

Got the last clue! Crest Haven diamond!

When he didn’t reply I texted again.

Hello?

My phone rang. It startled me momentarily, but I answered before it sounded again.

“Hello?”

“You know it’s two in the morning, right?”

Bryan. The sexy, gravelly, sleepy voice of Bryan.

“What are you doing calling me then?” I asked, grinning in the darkness.

“You started it.”

“But I only texted.”

“About scavenger-hunt clues. At two in the morning.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Maybe.”

“You think I’m nuts.”

He laughed.

“No, Cassidy Emmerich, I think you’re a trip.”

“So we can go over them?”

“I’m up now.”

Bryan and I talked until the sun began to lighten the sky. I didn’t want to hang up, but at some point either he or I did, because when I woke, my phone had slid off the bed onto the floor, and there was a small circle of drool on my pillow. We hadn’t made much progress with the clues, but we had talked. And talked.

It felt like the beginning.

Baseball.

All of the clues led to baseball, or a baseball game. Specifically, the last Saturday-night home game of the South Jersey Leviathans in August.

When I finally figured out we needed to be paying more attention to the “batter” part of
cake batter ice cream
—it all clicked into place. The one clue that had given us the most trouble was the first one—and in the end it was Bryan who realized the cabanas were at the foot of Cartwright Street, and
Cartwright was the last name of Alexander Cartwright, aka the “father of baseball.” Total team effort. We weren’t the only ones who guessed correctly, but it was our names that Mr. Beckett pulled out of the sand pail on the last day of camp.

We decided to take Wade and Tori, who seemed to need some scavenger-hunt clues of their own to discover that they were into each other. It was a gorgeous night. I didn’t really like watching baseball on television, but being at a live game was different and sort of exciting.

“Do we really have to stay until the end?” Tori asked.

“Yes,” Bryan and I said together. I turned and kissed him, ignoring Tori’s exaggerated groan at our PDA.

“Don’t want to miss the fireworks, Tori, the best part,” I said.

“Why can’t they just shoot them off before the game begins? Wait, I know, because they need incentive to keep people in the seats during the mind-numbingly boring parts.”

“I’m having fun,” Bryan said, entwining his hand in mine. We were in accessible box seats along the first base line. The Leviathans were up by three in the middle of the seventh. It was seventh-inning-stretch time, the groundskeepers dragging mats to smooth out the clay along the infield to the tune of “Mony Mony” and trying to get the crowd clapping along.

“Chill, Tor,” Wade said.

“Fine, but I’m going to get a caramel apple before concessions close—want anything?” she asked.

Wade grabbed her hand. “Wait, don’t go yet.”

“They’re cleaning the field; I’m not missing anything. I’ll be right back.”

“No, really, stay,” Wade said.

“Why?”

“Look, they’re doing trivia on the Jumbotron,” he said, pointing to the big video screen out past center field.

“That’s great. I don’t know baseball trivia.”

“They’re also wishing kids happy birthday.”

I turned to Bryan and he looked away fast, a small smile on his face. When he looked at me again, he laughed. “What?”

“What’s going on?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing.” Then he looked back toward the Jumbotron and covered his mouth as he shook with laughter.

“You did not do this,” Tori said.

I turned to see the screen and gasped.

TORI, PROM?

Calm, cool Wade was anything but, as Tori glared at him in his seat.

“It’s August,” she said.

“I know, I know, it’s just—

The crowd cheered as the picture on the Jumbotron switched from the words to a live video shot of Wade and Tori
bickering. Wade stood up now. A chant of
prom, prom, prom
started around us.

“Did you know about this?” I asked Bryan.

“Yep, I dared him to do it.”

Wade took Tori’s hands. “Even if it’s no, just say yes for now, please. Everyone’s looking.”

Tori laughed. “I’m kind of enjoying making you squirm.”

She finally nodded, the crowd cheered, and the Jumbotron went on to wish someone named Cindy a happy thirtieth.

“Do you mean it?” Wade asked.

She let go of his hands, stepped back. “Maybe.”

Wade put his hands on his hips, looked up to the sky. Tori turned away, determined to get her caramel apple, but Wade touched her shoulder.

“Tori, I like you, okay? I like the whole sundress-and-Chucks thing you got going on, and I like that you don’t take crap from anyone, especially me, and your cake pops rock, and I don’t mean that in a sexy way—you’re a good cook, or baker, or whatever you call it, and I want to worry about your happiness and I just, well, I like you. There. Should have asked you to prom last year, so I’m getting a head start now.”

Tori remained silent, arms folded. Wade’s face was probably just a more intense version of mine and Bryan’s. Eyes questioning, chin lowered, he blinked, waiting.

“Wade, I like you too, okay? Always have. You’re full of yourself, but it’s endearing somehow, and you smell like coconut oil, and the man bun is even sort of growing on me, so
yes, I guess I’ll go to prom with you, but maybe you can buy me a caramel apple first,” she said, then grabbed fistfuls of his T-shirt and pulled herself up to him, planting a kiss on his mouth. Wade’s arms momentarily flailed out in surprise, but he quickly regained composure and wrapped them around Tori. She pulled away, a big grin on her face.

“Let’s get that apple,” she said, leading him out of the aisle.

I put my head on Bryan’s shoulder.

“So you told him he was crazy?” I asked.

“Yep—I mean, prom is months from now; anything could happen.”

“You’re right, I guess, still—it was sort of sweet.”

“Now that she said yes, but man, there were a few moments I was sweating for him.”

“So . . . you would never do anything like that?”

“I’m not really the prom type, you know; all this hardware sort of makes for an awkward night on the dance floor.”

“Yeah, but . . . really? You looked like you had fun last year.” I didn’t want to sound disappointed. He squeezed my hand.

“So let’s say I hypothetically asked you to prom, even though it’s eight months away and you could get sick of me or I could get sick of you or a giant wave could come and wipe us all out, would you, if you had to answer tonight, would you go with me?”

I wished I could see into the future, which was about as impractical as a wish could get. Bryan was right. The odds
were against us. It was months away; anything could happen. Making plans that far in advance seemed like a pretty ridiculous thing to do.

But.

The night was perfect, and the magic of summer was still in the air and in Bryan’s eyes, and if I had to respond, that night, I knew what I would say.

It was a leap of faith, with only one answer.

“Yes.”

This. Book.

I’m wary of the term
book of my heart
, mostly because that’s a lot of pressure to put on one story. This novel, though, is special to me in so many ways and I’m beyond privileged to be able to thank the following people who helped me along this wild ride.

First and foremost to my readers—whether I’ve met you in person or if you’ve felt the urge to drop me a line or Tweet or message—thank you. Your kind words and enthusiasm make this writing gig the best job in the world.

A million thanks to my agent, Tamar Rydzinski, for pretty much everything. So blessed to have you and LDLA in my corner.

Thank you to Donna Bray for your belief in this story and your guidance, and for asking the questions that always seem to light the way.

Many thanks to the excellent team at Balzer + Bray/HarperCollins, including Viana Siniscalchi, Caroline Sun, Nellie Kurtzman, Alexei Esikoff, and Michelle Taormina.
Thank you for all that you do, whether it’s apparent to me or not—your hard work is much appreciated.

Thank you to Meg Wiviott, Sarah Aronson, and Jessica Love—all of who either offered words of wisdom or advice when I first began shaping Cassidy and Bryan’s story. Many thanks to Jennifer Moore, licensed and certified recreational therapist, who generously offered her time and expertise and allowed me to pick her brain on more than one occasion. And thank you to Brock Johnson, board member of Carolina Coastal Adaptive Sports and founder of “Wheels to Surf,” for sharing a bit of his own experience and for helping me sound like a surfer.

This writing life is often solitary, but I’m lucky to have such wonderful colleagues, many of whom I call friends. The following lovelies inspire, enlighten, listen, or are just plain amazing—Jaye Robin Brown, Lynne Matson, Cindy Clemens, Laura Renegar, Amy Reed, Amber Smith, Judy Palermo, Vivi Barnes, and Christina Farley. Continued thanks to my One Four family—still a sounding board and virtual clubhouse when life gets particularly crazy. And a special shout out to Madcap Retreats (and retreaters) for providing a safe space to create and kvetch without judgment.

Thank you to my family and friends—your continued support means everything to me.

And last but not least, to my own personal Team Constantine—thank you for keeping my feet firmly on the ground and for putting up with my weirdness. Love you, always.