Ben was cracking up so hard he couldn’t even stay on his own feet, much less pull anyone out of the river. A rescue mission for Nat’s shoe had ended with Teddy’s ass on the slick rocks of the riverbed, kept down by the drag of the same strong current that claimed the shoe in the first place. Ever the copycat, Nat had dropped to roll on the ground beside Ben, howling with laughter.
“You’re a real pal, asshole.” Teddy tried in vain to stand and slipped again, sending Ben further into gleeful spasms. “I’m so glad you’re around to set an example for my sister.”
“Oh God. Oh Jesus God, I can’t. I can’t with this at all, dude, I’m sorry. It’s too much.”
“You two need help, Benjamin.” I set aside my charcoals, kicked off my shoes, and waded in, stepping carefully on the mossy rocks until I reached a sodden, resigned Teddy. “Watch out, it’s slippery. Like you don’t know that.”
“I also know who has my back around here.” He grasped my hands, pulled himself carefully to standing, caught my hips to steady me in turn as the river clawed at our legs. Water streamed from his clothes, dripped from his hair onto my arms and shoulders. “Not surprised it’s you, Ames.”
“World without end,” I teased. His smile snared me; his low laugh sent a warm prickle across the back of my neck.
Something was happening that summer—everything was shifting, in tiny ways I didn’t understand. We moved through the days together, a subtle, relentless progression toward an unknown end. Making contact in unconscious, impulsive gestures too frequent to be entirely accidental—his hands finding my shoulders, brushing the small of my back. Mine landing on his arm or knee, reaching for his fingers over and over without thought. The best moments were deliberate: when he hugged me goodbye or pushed my bangs out of my eyes. When I played with his hair or wiped a smudge from his face with my thumb. When we stood in the river, holding each other upright against a powerful current.
“I guess we need to detour by my place before the festival,” he said as we slowly made our way back to the bank. “Don’t think Benny will want me in his car all muddy and—whoa, careful. Just a few more yards to safety.”
“My hero. What would I ever do without you?”
“You know you can’t get enough of me.”
We collected Ben and Nat from the ground and headed back to the trailer. Teddy stripped off his wet shirt in the yard, flung it over the clothesline, and pulled down a clean towel, taking the porch steps two at a time.
“Eyes to the front, Ames,” Ben muttered as he passed me, slamming his shoulder into mine. I shoved him and he stomped a foot backward, stepping on my toes without even turning his head. A wave of real irritation surged through me, compounded by his casually raised middle finger.
He’d been a real asshole ever since our tubing excursion, gone out of his way to drop scornful remarks and slap me with side-eyes at every opportunity. Not that asshole behavior was a new development for Ben. He’d spent our childhood flying into snits over the finer points of game rules, stomping off when he didn’t get his way. Crying to Grandma or Aunt Mattie when he felt slighted or ignored, regardless of our actual level of Ben focus. And apparently he had yet to grow out of it—my dismissal of his so-called warning still ate at him, shone clearly in his narrowed eyes; in his knuckles, white around the gearshift. In the clench of his jaw, around words that held a sharper, subtler edge, each phrase honed so precisely you wouldn’t know you’d been cut until your fingers came back bloody.
“Make yourselves at home,” Teddy said as we filed inside. The welcome blast of the window unit cooled my sweaty face, soothed the irate prickle of my mood. “I need to hop in the shower. Won’t be ten minutes.”
“Let me know if you need a hand, hot stuff,” Ben said, kicking back in the recliner.
“No worries; your mom said she’d be right over.”
They both cracked up, Teddy slapping Ben’s high five as he passed by on his way to the hall. I settled in for the long wait, all too aware how long “ten minutes” could stretch in this aspect of Teddy’s world.
Ben and I lapsed into a drowsy silence as Nat disappeared into June’s room, reappeared and flitted from distraction to distraction, art supplies to TV to glittery nail polish. She ate two Popsicles, then Ben grabbed one for himself and passed her a third, and we could still hear Teddy in the bathroom. The splash of the shower wore on my already strung nerves; the thought of him beneath the spray, just on the far side of the wall, set my nerves on edge.
“Well, he’s apparently never coming out of there,” Ben finally sighed, resting his bare Popsicle stick in the ashtray. “We should’ve gone home and changed instead of following him down here to sit on our collective ass.”
“It’s a bit late for bright ideas, Benny.”
“Whatever, bitch. I’ll go get the car while he makes himself pretty.” He heaved himself out of the recliner and ruffled Nat’s hair as he headed for the door. She slurped down the last of her Popsicle and jumped up, swooped after him like a manic sparrow. “Come on, Bug. I’m sure Ames won’t mind helping him out.”
“Thought that was your mom’s job,” I muttered.
“That’s what she said.” Nat giggled, skipping backward toward the door.
Ben stopped on the entryway rug, turning himself into a Nat barrier. She ran straight into him, nearly slamming him into the wall. He stared down at her wide grin for a beat, then erupted into howls of laughter.
“This kid,” he gasped, yanking open the door. “She’s my greatest achievement. The pinnacle of—” Ben pushed open the screen without looking, practically mowing down Uncle Peter, who stood on the tiny porch, confused, paper bag in hand. “Dad. What are you doing here?”
“I might ask you the same thing. I myself drove down to drop off the firecrackers. Saw your car at your grandparents’. Figured you kids were down at the cove.”
“We were, but Bear fell in the river.” Nat poked her head around Ben, grinning at my uncle with red-stained teeth. “Hi, Mr. Pete. Happy Fourth of July!”
“Happy Fourth to you too, Little Miss Nat. Can you guess what I brought for you?”
“Hmmm.” Nat scrunched her face, pretending to think. I had to bite down on a giggle as Ben rolled his eyes and made a wanking motion down by his leg. They did the same routine every single year. “Is it something purple?”
“Could very well be purple in there.”
“Is it something pretty?”
“Not as pretty as Natasha Fox.”
“Can I light it on fire?”
“That you can.”
“Is it my VERY FAVORITE SPECIAL PURPLE SPARKLERS?”
“Yes, ma’am, it is!” She snatched them from his extended hand and ran in a screaming circle, waving them in the air. “Is your mama home?”
“She’s getting ready for a daaaaaate.”
Uncle Peter blinked at Nat, blank for a split second, as if he’d forgotten what a date was. As if he’d forgotten Sam had been gone for years.
“That right? Anyone I know?”
“Goddamn, Nat, settle down. It’s not a date.” Teddy walked up behind us in fresh shorts and a short-sleeved button-down, buttons undone. “She’s headed to a barbecue at the church. They invited all three of us, but Nat and I have plans. Right, Bug?”
“Big plans! Best plans ever!”
“You kids close that door; you’re letting out the AC.” June’s voice cut through the living room as she walked up behind us, fastening a silver hoop earring. Her blond hair lay in an intricate braid over one thin shoulder alongside the strap of her sundress. “What are you all—oh, hi there, Pete.”
It was only a split second, but the next beat turned to one of those weird pauses where everything falls silent and expands outward, engulfing the room in a momentary fear of movement. Even Nat went quiet, though it was only to draw breath before whooping again, effectively restarting the world.
“Well, come on in, get out of that god-awful heat,” June said. “You all want a cold drink?”
“We were just leaving, Mom.”
“We were just LEAVING,” Nat sang, twirling around the room. “And we are riding RIDES, and eating ICE CREAM, and having FUN. And when we get back? SPARKLERS.”
“You let her have a Popsicle, didn’t you, Teddy?”
“Three Popsicles, Mama.” Nat giggled.
“Well, you’re your brother’s problem tonight. You’re sure you’ll be okay with her on your own? I can take you kids myself, like usual, if you—”
“We’ll be fine. She’ll behave, won’t you, Bug?”
“We’ll be fine,” Nat repeated, batting her eyes.
“Lord help us.” June shook her head, the twin to Nat’s wide grin flashing sweet on her still-young face. She caught Nat and gave her a kiss on each cheek, then stood on tiptoe to leave one on Teddy’s forehead. “Drive safe, have fun, and stick together. Don’t keep her out too late. And not too much ice cream, Natasha, hear?”
“Bye, June,” Ben said, jumping from the porch to the ground in a single leap. I waved and ducked out the door, turning back to wait for Teddy, who was wrapped up in arguing with Nat, listing off a slew of reasons why it was a bad idea to bring her sparklers to the festival.
“Hold on, Benny, I’ll drive y’all back up.” Uncle Pete passed his grocery bag to June. It was stuffed full, filled to the brim with the borderline illegal firecrackers he casually provided each year. “Brought these for the kids. Have to keep up tradition.”
“Well, thank you. I’m sure they’ll have as much fun as always.” She smiled again, this time tight-lipped, not quite as wide. “You and Mattie coming down?”
“Mattie’s got me roped into an event this evening. Might stop by after. Around ten, if that’s okay.”
“You’re both welcome. It’s always nice to see the kids enjoy themselves.”
Teddy hustled Nat down the steps, boosting her and then me into the bed of Uncle Peter’s truck. Ben already slouched against the rear window, fiddling with his lighter. Teddy hopped up and settled next to me, casting an aggravated glare at his sister’s smug grin.
“She brought the sparklers, didn’t she,” I whispered, jumping at the bang of the trailer door as it swung shut behind Uncle Peter. Teddy sighed, gathered his still-damp hair into its usual ponytail.
“Of course she brought the fucking sparklers.”
“Shouldn’t have given her that third Popsicle.”
“Ben gave her the third Popsicle, didn’t he?”
“Of course he did.” I collapsed into laughter as he leaned against my shoulder. His scent wove into my senses—the warm spice of cinnamon toothpaste and June’s homemade clove soap. He was so close.
I caught the barb of Ben’s eyes from the corner of my own, automatically fixed my gaze on him. He held it for a moment, then looked away, his lips a bitter slit. I stared at him all the way up the driveway, tried to catch his gaze as we turned on to the main road. Tried to coax a word from him with the force of my thoughts.
It didn’t work. He didn’t look at me again.
We arrived at the fairgrounds only to run straight into a pack of Ben and Teddy’s school friends—a collection of striking, quick-witted boys and gleaming girls, wide-eyed and small-town pretty, peeking out around shiny swaths of hair. Ben’s already-bright star went supernova as he fell into his element, laughing and flicking back his own long hair. The other boys hung on his words and clambered for high fives and fist bumps, talking over one another to catch his ear. The girls smirked and giggled, eyes constantly sliding to Teddy. He stood deliberately apart, his hooded looks and slow laughter designed to ensnare and taunt, suggesting everything, promising nothing. Teddy and Ben assumed their roles without hesitation, holding court with a practiced air that contradicted everything I knew about both of them.
The day wore on; the bright sky turned to dusk, then dark, then sparked bright again with fireworks. I held it together, smiled and laughed and celebrated on cue, but inside I was slipping, fighting a mental retreat from the press of the crowd, the cacophony of sounds and scents and colors, and the crushing clamor of patriotism. It was too close, Teddy’s unfamiliar, unfettered world. Too heartbreaking to watch the way his eyes slid over hips and legs, met gazes with winks and smirks, avoiding my own furtive, pathetically frequent glances. Avoiding me.
Everything—all of it—was too much.
Back in the car I let my head drop to the headrest, closed my eyes through the horns and headlights of parking lot traffic. Nat crashed before we’d gone fifty feet, conquered by the whirlwind of midway games and carnival rides and fireworks. She slumped sideways against the passenger window, her frantic claim on shotgun utterly wasted. The world faded to background buzz as Ben turned from the fairgrounds onto the dark stretch of country road.
“You okay?” Teddy’s voice barely made it to my ears over the rush of wind, but his hand grazed, then settled, over mine. I rolled my head his way; he was closer than I’d thought, a collection of bright eyes and beautiful shadows riding through the night beside me. A world away from the intoxicating stranger who’d hijacked his face that afternoon.
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “It was sort of a bad—long. It was sort of a long day. Interesting, though. I got to watch my best friend turn into a different person right in front of my eyes.”
“Oh. Yeah, that was weird for you, I guess. You’ve never really met our friends. Not that group, anyway. Guess the festival’s different without our parents there, huh?”
“ ‘Different’ is applicable, sure. Accurate, yet somehow insufficient.”
“Uh… okay.” He studied me in the slip-slide of moonlight and shade, found more than plenty to give him pause. “You sure you’re all right?”
I let my throat close over the impending surge of words, all grudge-sour and borderline accusatory, none of which would change a thing. My face softened into neutral until my pout was a tiny smile. My disquiet, my weariness, my bitter heart—all would have to pass unspoken. I couldn’t let it be more than incidental.
“I’m good,” I said, forcing the smile into my voice. “Just glad to have you back.”
“I’ll always come back to you, Ames.”
The dash lights caught his teasing grin as he echoed my own line back to me, the humiliating slipup he’d apparently carried with him from the summer’s first bonfire to that very moment. My vexation vanished, swallowed whole by a surge of hope as that confident, sexy gaze turned vulnerable. If he meant those words even a fraction as much as I had, it was good enough for me.
“Yeah, well,” I whispered. “If I had my way… you know the rest.”
His fingers threaded with mine; his grip on my hand tightened, a different kind of pressure than his usual friendly touch. The air between us sparked and crackled, thickened with anticipation as he leaned in.
“HOME SWEET HOME,” Ben screamed, fishtailing onto the property. Nat woke with a triumphant yell, as pumped and alert as if she’d never been asleep.
We jerked apart. Teddy’s hand left mine, drawing away as he faded into the shadows. I looked out my window and tucked my hands into my lap, where he couldn’t touch them.
Uncle Peter’s truck was already parked alongside June’s old beater of a Chevy. They sat side by side in camping chairs around a bonfire, chatting and working through a six-pack. Aunt Mattie, unsurprisingly, appeared to have declined her invitation.
“You’re here early,” Ben said as we poured out of the car.
“No, you’re here late, son. It’s nearly ten thirty.”
“It is?” He turned to me. “I thought we left the fairgrounds right after the fireworks.”
“We would have if you hadn’t spent half an hour bidding farewell to your entourage.”
“Huh. I guess you’re right. Sorry about that, June. I didn’t mean to keep Nat out.”
“It’s no trouble, Benny,” June said, shaking her head at Nat’s impatient bouncing. “A late night every now and then never hurt anyone. Go on and help her light those damn sparklers before she has a conniption.”
I settled on the still-warm hood of the Dodge, teeth clenched. Ben and Nat headed for the sack of explosives, but Teddy hung back, lurking around my edges like a moth. Empathy flared across his features and he stepped closer, but I stared him down, glaring and unblinking. Mad at him for making me feel.
He knew how close we’d been to a kiss; how we’d toed that last uncrossed line between our solid friendship and the looming unknown of something more, and what it meant to take things even that far. He knew. And he’d pulled away.
Ben was right. I was going to ruin everything.
“It’s okay,” I lied as Teddy drew breath to speak. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t do that, Amy. Don’t—”
“Don’t what?” Ben appeared at my elbow and slid onto the hood next to me. “What are we talking about?”
“Nothing,” I said. “We were talking about nothing, Benjamin.”
Ben raised his eyebrows and looked away, pretending to focus on the sky. Teddy stared at me for another beat, then stalked off, grabbed the fireworks bag, and headed toward the river. Past the bonfire and past Nat, who swirled her sparklers in blazing figure eights around her head.
“Spin me, Mr. Pete,” she yelled. “Spin me up high.”
Uncle Peter laughed and rose from his chair, bent down to scoop her up.
“Pete.”
The single syllable from June stopped him cold. He raised his head slowly, a sudden, sad resignation stealing over his face as June shook her head, almost imperceptibly. He straightened up, leaving Nat on the ground.
“Better not, honey,” he said. “These old bones can’t take that sort of roughhousing anymore.”
“You’re too big for shoulder rides, Nat.” June waved off her protests. “Finish up with those things and go help your brother.”
Uncle Peter stood where he’d been left, watching Nat barrel away. She crouched on the riverbank beside Teddy, who was busy prepping a row of bottle rockets for launch. June, in turn, watched my uncle, her face a flicker of shadows in the firelight.
“I miss him,” she said, drawing his eyes back to her. “It’s hard this time of year.”
“He always did love those sparklers, didn’t he? Damn near set himself on fire, and not just the once. I miss him, too.” He picked his way around the bonfire and settled back in his chair. Their heads turned to Nat and Teddy as if moved by the same neck. “Girl’s just like her daddy.”
“They both are. Just alike.” She turned back to stare into the fire, lips tight around a sad, strained smile.
“The hell was that about?” I whispered to Ben in the ensuing stillness.
“Sam used to do that, remember? Put us all up on his shoulders with our sparklers, one by one, and spin us in circles.”
“That’s right.” A long-buried memory tapped its way through the ice, a sensation of twirling high above the ground, dizzy and laughing and free, fingers stung by errant, snapping sparks. “I’d forgotten all about that.”
“Doesn’t sound like Dad and June have. The three of them grew up together, just like you, Teddy, and me. That must suck shit, huh? Being left behind.”
I slipped an arm around his waist, giving him a sideways hug. We looked as one to Teddy, as if making sure he was still whole, still here. Still ours. He saw us watching and lifted his hand in a wave, then turned back to help Nat, guiding her fingers around the lighter to touch flame to fuse. The rocket sparked and launched, whizzed its way into the air, detonating in a sudden flash. The burned remains drifted back to earth and were swept away, swallowed silently by the slow, dark water.