ELEVEN

Dinner that night was nothing short of brilliant. Mom and Caroline definitely did justice to Kyle’s recipe, and all I could think about as I ate it was how proud he would be to see us all sitting there, enjoying his food. It was bittersweet, and a little jarring, since Brandon was sitting right next to me, but I made it through the meal. And the next one. And the one after that. And three weeks later, we had made it through fifteen of the nearly fifty recipes in the book. Caroline had finished typing them up at the end of the first week, and now I sit staring at them on my computer. Just staring, trying to figure out what I’m going to do with them, now they’re all neat and pretty and organized by type of dish.

As I’m waiting for divine inspiration to strike, the doorbell rings and I hear Mom rush to answer it. Familiar voices flood the downstairs. What are Brandon and Caroline doing here?

A slight bit of panic wells in my chest. I look like death. I should know better by now that they could stop by at any time and that it would be in my best interest to at least be showered. Maybe they just stopped by to drop something off for Mom. Or to say hi to her.

Please don’t tell them I’m here.

“Jess?”

Shit.

“What’s up?” I call back, knowing full well what’s up.

“Come down here a minute.”

I look up at the ceiling with a groan, wondering if there’s any way to get out of this.

“Are you coming?”

There’s no way to get out of this. She’ll pester me until I come down. I dash to the bathroom and opt to throw a baseball cap over my greasy hair. It goes nicely with my ugly sweatpants and torn t-shirt.

As I pad down the stairs, Brandon and Caroline come into view. The first thing I notice is Caroline’s hair. Light brown hair is coming in at the roots, and she hasn’t bothered to dye it to match the rest of the raven locks. And when she tilts her face up to look at me, it’s strangely devoid of mounds of makeup. She’s still wearing makeup, just not nearly as much as before. I’m about to comment, but then I think better of it. I don’t want to send her running for the black dye and eyeliner again.

“Hey, guys,” I say as I reach the foyer. “What are you doing here?”

Brandon and Caroline exchange a look before turning back to me.

“They have something they want to show you,” Mom says, grabbing onto my arm gently.

“Would you mind coming with us?” Brandon asks, and he’s wearing an especially wry smile.

“Um…” I look down at my clothes. “I’m not really dressed for going out.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Caroline speaks up. “No one will see you. Just us. It won’t take long. Come on.”

She’s smiling from ear to ear. How can I say no to that? “Okay,” I reply slowly. “Do I need a jacket?”

“I don’t think you’ll need a jacket now until the fall. Spring has officially sprung here.”

It was only the end of March, and in the northeast, that meant there was still a chance of snow, or at the very least, chilly temps. I’m starting to feel really good about my decision to move back here. And not just for the weather.

“Go on, honey. It won’t take long. You’ll be back to brooding in your bedroom before you know it.”

A couple months ago, that comment probably would have sent me into a tailspin. Maybe triggered a tongue-lashing for my mom and a twenty-four-hour lock down in my room. Maybe it’s spring. Maybe it’s something else. But I’ve been in much better humor lately, so I just roll my eyes at Mom and laugh it off.

Brandon and Caroline are already at the door, waiting for me to walk through it. Once I do, they follow me out and we walk to the car together.

“Don’t get in yet,” Brandon says, rushing around to the driver’s side.

“Okay,” I say, dragging the word out so they know just how weirded out I am by this whole thing.

Caroline is bouncing up and down on her toes, a goofy smile on her face. Brandon retrieves something from the driver’s side door and comes back around until he’s standing in front of me.

“Turn around, please,” he orders, matter-of-factly.

I take a deep breath and eye him skeptically before doing as he asked. In the next moment, a piece of cloth covers my eyes.

“You’re blindfolding me?” I can hardly believe this. What the Hell is going on?

A giggle comes from Caroline, but Brandon says nothing as he ties the blindfold at the back of my head.

“Okay,” he says, and I hear the click of the door being opened. “You can get in now.”

“This better be good,” I warn.

It feels a little weird to be in a car and not be able to see where we’re going. It’s making me realize that I might be a bit of a backseat driver. I don’t always say anything, but I feel my eyes are valuable as a second opinion. My body is all tense, like I’m anticipating a wreck. But after about ten minutes, we pull into what I assume is a parking space and come to a stop.

“Wait there,” Brandon says. “I’ll come get you.”

Together, he and Caroline guide me out of the car and then lead me through a door into some kind of building. It’s quiet and cool. And it smells clean.

“Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I reply, just before Brandon pulls off the blindfold.

I take a moment and look around, drinking in my surroundings, trying to understand what’s happening. I’m standing at a counter, complete with oven and stove, and facing two rows of shiny, metal tables. Cabinets and two industrial sized refrigerators line the walls. I look at Caroline, who looks as if she’s about to burst out of her skin. Then to Brandon, who’s wearing a charming smile that makes my stomach do a little flip.

“What is all this?” I ask, and then wait, rather impatiently, I might add, for one of them to say something.

“It’s yours,” Brandon replies, and then quickly adds, “If you want it.”

I furrow my brow. “I don’t cook.”

“No, but your mom and I do,” Caroline says.

“Okay, can we stop being cryptic,” I plead. “I think I’m gonna need you guys to spell this out for me.”

Brandon looks at Caroline and gives her a nod.

She takes a slight pause, and then says, “Kyle’s Kitchen. That’s what we’d call it, if you like that name. We were thinking you could run it, and your mom and I could teach the classes.”

“Classes?”

“To troubled kids…like me,” Caroline finishes, and suddenly it’s all coming together.

Brandon steps forward. “We’ll form a not-for-profit, and put Kyle’s recipes to good use.”

“And give you something to do.”

“Ah,” I say. “Is that what this is about?”

Brandon shoots his little sister a scowl. Clearly that was the part of the plan they weren’t supposed to tell me about.

“Sorry,” Caroline says. “It just slipped out.”

I shrug. “It’s okay. Really. I probably do need to start thinking about my future.”

“We don’t want to pressure you into anything,” Brandon continues. “It’s just that those recipes are amazing—”

“And they’ve helped me so much!”

“Caro really wants to help other kids who are struggling, like her.”

“And like me?” I suggest.

Brandon’s eyes are so intent on me, I almost forget Caroline is in the room with us.

“We all need a little help sometimes. No one knows that like the three of us in this room do.”

I swallow over the lump in my throat, the gravity of what they’ve done for me hitting me like a ton of bricks. I don’t want to cry, but I don’t know if I can stop it. I’m overwhelmed, and by more than just this grand gesture. Kyle was my everything, my Romeo, my soul mate. I was certain there was no one else in the world that could fill the void he left.

I look at Brandon, in all his perfection, and wonder how he could be so good and wonderful and everything I don’t want him to be, because if I admit he’s all those things—if I admit that I feel for him something more than friendship—well, I don’t know what will happen. The world will implode. The ceiling will come crashing in on me. Up will be down and down will be up. And I just won’t know what to do with myself.

So, I do the only thing I can do in this situation. I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back my tears as I make my escape.

 

I don’t get far. Just outside the door, really, before I realize that I didn’t drive myself here. Furthermore, I don’t really know where we are. It’s an office park not far from our neighborhood, but it’s not like I can walk it. It’s at least five miles, based on the time it took to get here, so even if I did know where I was…

“So, should I take this as a no?”

Brandon is right behind me. So close I can feel his warmth at my back. But I don’t flinch. I’m not startled. I expected this, I guess. He’s definitely the type who runs after crying girls to make sure they’re all right. Or at least sends someone to check on them if they’re in a women’s restroom.

God, I’m so pathetic. One of these days, he’s just going to give up on me if I can’t pull myself together. I wouldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to be around someone who broke down crying all the time either. But the thought of losing his friendship makes my stomach hurt. I don’t want to push him away.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” I stutter, truly at a loss for words.

“Thank you sometimes works in these situations.”

I know he’s teasing, trying to lighten the moment, and I appreciate it. I really do. I want things to be light and funny more than anything.

My back is still to him, and I swipe my hands across my cheeks before turning around to face him. He’s wearing a gentle expression—soft smile, tender hazel eyes—one that reeks of patience that most humans don’t have.

“I feel horrible,” I say, choking on the words.

“Don’t. Just tell me what you’re thinking. Whatever it is, it’s fine.”

I look up at him, and I’m certain my dismay is written all over my face. “Why are you so nice to me?” I ask. “I wasn’t terribly kind to you in high school. And it’s not like I’m a barrel of fun to be around now.”

“You were nicer than most in high school,” he says with a little chuckle. “And…fun is overrated.”

I really don’t know what I’ve done to deserve his friendship, but I’m not going to question it anymore. I’d be foolish to push the issue.

“Thanks,” I say. “And thank you. I mean…this…” I gesture to the building, still in awe that he would do this for me. For Kyle. For Caroline. For other kids struggling with loss, divorce, bullying or whatever. “Just…thank you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So…you like the idea?”

I can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up. “Yes,” I say. “I love it, but—”

He holds up a hand. “No buts. You love it. That’s all I need to hear.”

“Okay,” I say, being careful not to add but, “And what about all the details? I don’t know anything about setting up a not-for-profit company. Or running a kitchen, for that matter. Besides, I think Mom and Dad are getting ready to turn me loose into the world. I need a job—a paying one.”

Brandon laughs and shakes his head, the “silly Jessica” implied. “A not-for-profit doesn’t mean you don’t get paid, Jess. But listen, I’ll handle all of the financials…or rather, my lawyers and accountants will. Just tell me what you need for a salary, and start thinking of ways to raise funds and get the word out.”

“Raise funds?” I feel lost at sea. I know nothing about this kind of stuff. Not too long ago I was just a floundering college student, enjoying the city, enjoying my boyfriend—the more I’m learning about the world, the less I feel like I know.

“All right, newbie,” he says. “I’ll brainstorm with you…over dinner?”

I swallow over the lump in my throat. This is the moment where I’m supposed to confirm that it’s not a date.

“Sure,” I finally say.

There’s a pause. He’s waiting for it—waiting for the words to blurt out of my mouth as they always do—but when they don’t, a wide smile spreads his lips. It’s contagious apparently, because I’m smiling now too.

“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.” He comes around to my side and gently presses his hand to the small of my back, guiding me toward the door. “Now come back inside, and take a proper look at Kyle’s Kitchen.”