When Lee calls at seven, Colin insists on picking him up and driving us both home. I overhear this conversation from my comfy perch in his bed, which smells so much like Colin it makes me light-headed. Light-headed in a good way. In a confusing way, too.
On my way out of the bathroom, he hands me Lee’s cell phone, along with my freshly laundered dress. “It’s not perfect,” he says, “but I’ve learned a thing or two over the years.”
I mumble a thank-you. Colin knows how to launder a dress?
He looks good—tired, but a healthy tired. He’s wearing jeans and an old baseball T-shirt, his last name stitched across the shoulder blades.
“You played baseball?” I ask.
“You look shocked.” He laughs. “Am I that uncoordinated?”
“No, it’s just . . .” I sit on the bed and fold the dress across my lap. “I figured you were just a swimmer.”
“In this neighborhood? I’d be laughed off the block.”
He’s right, of course, another part of his history I’ve neither considered nor explored. It’s so much easier to slot people into neat little boxes.
The phone buzzes with a new message. It’s from Lee: Where are you?
“I’ll get the car warmed up,” Colin says. A few seconds later, he’s down the stairs and out the door.
I let the dress flutter past my hips, stunned by its transformation. It looks brand-new—creased in all the right places, the hem restored to its threadless glory. It smells like fabric softener and lilac, like a spring morning.
My throat tightens as I think about his mom, dozing peacefully down the hall.
She would have been proud.
•
When we pull up to the house in Southie, Lee is sitting on Gruder’s snow-covered porch. His eyes are bloodshot, betraying a sleepless night. When he sees us pull up, he strolls over and heaves a sigh. “Dammit, Aves. You scared the shit out of me last night.”
“I know.” I try not to look at him. “I’m sorry.”
“Turns out Gruder’s brother has a criminal record.” He snorts as he climbs into the backseat. “Asshole.”
“Gruder, or Gruder’s brother?”
“Both. They’re both assholes.” He nods at Colin. “Thanks for, uh, filling in here.” His voice sounds strained, and I start to wonder if the dinner at Anna’s was more about reconciliation than reunion.
Colin responds with his usual grace. “No problem. I’m just a few blocks from here.”
Lee says nothing, appraising the narrow, snow-dusted streets and tight-knit houses. Older-model cars line the shoulder, parked at haphazard angles to avoid the snow. The occasional bundled-up individual braves the early-morning chill.
“Anyway,” Lee says, “hope Avery didn’t kill your New Year’s.” Lee’s implication settles in the air, hovering like deadweight.
Colin eases to a stop at a red light and cracks the window. “Not at all.”
“No hot date on New Year’s?”
The light takes years to turn green. I try to sink down in my seat, but the area between my knees and the dashboard is only marginally bigger than a shoe box.
“No.” The tension in Colin’s voice is almost undetectable, but it’s there. Probably not enough for Lee to notice, but obvious to me.
“Huh.” Lee meets Colin’s gaze through the rearview mirror. “Can’t say I’m surprised. You always were evasive.”
“Lee—” I start, but Colin quiets me with a look.
“I was at dinner with my sisters,” Colin says.
“Uh-huh.”
“He was, Lee,” I snap. “His mom’s sick and has been for a long time. That’s why he missed Fall Qualifiers.” Colin winces. Guilt whirls in my gut, but I keep going. “You need to get over it.”
“Get over it? Avery, that meet was everything I’ve ever worked for.”
“More important than someone dying?”
Lee looks away. Colin’s grip tenses on the wheel.
“Sorry about your mom,” Lee says.
Colin glances my way, but I can’t bear to look at him. “I’m sorry, too,” he says. I wonder what, exactly, he’s sorry for, though I suppose it doesn’t matter. The apology is out there, a kind of peace offering.
“So, how did the party end?” I ask, falsely cheerful.
Please answer. Please work. Please let them just get along. Fortunately, Lee has a blessedly short attention span.
“Eh.” Lee shrugs. “I punched Gruder’s brother in the face.”
“What?” I whirl around, meeting Lee’s hard stare.
“He deserved it, and you know it.”
“Yeah, but he’s Gruder’s brother. You’ll never race again if Gruder hates you.”
“I don’t care what Gruder thinks. Far as I’m concerned, he’s a dick, too.”
At this, a tiny smile curls on Colin’s lips.
“See?” Lee says. “Shea gets it. You don’t let a guy treat your girlfriend like that without repercussions.”
“This isn’t the 1800s.”
Lee sweeps away strands of hair that have fallen across my face. His breath smells good—like cinnamon, as always. “I’m not a vigilante, Aves.” He lets the wisps of blond settle on my shoulders. “But I’m not a pussy, either.”
“Yes, but there are consequences.” I look at my hands, embarrassed by how dumb this sounds but knowing it’s also true. “Gruder can make life a lot harder for you.”
“Let him.”
“Lee, listen to me. I made a mistake, okay? Why don’t you let me talk to Gruder?”
“No.”
Colin turns off the highway near Fenway, putting us within a mile of my house. He’s probably only been to Brookline a few times, but Boston is small enough to navigate once you understand the nonsensical arrangements of the streets. Colin drives like a local: confident but a little unpredictable. Avoiding one-way streets where there probably shouldn’t be one. Ignoring the intersections where three out of four of the intersecting streets have the same name. Dodging surface trains and random crosswalks.
“Still going the right way?” Colin asks me.
I manage a nod, and five minutes later, we’re there. The car hasn’t yet come to a complete stop when Lee climbs out of the backseat. He opens my door with semifrozen fingers.
“Come on, babe.” His teeth are chattering. “I need a hot shower ASAP.”
He reaches in to take my hand, but every bone in my body resists him. I shouldn’t say anything to Colin—not with Lee scrutinizing me, not with that damning question left unanswered. But then the words are out of my mouth, and it’s too late.
“Are you ever coming back to school?” I ask him.
He stares at the empty road ahead. I want him to look at me. I want him to say, Yes. As soon as I possibly can.
Instead, he murmurs, “No.”
Lee finally manages to pull me out of the car, my heel catching on the curb in a foolish attempt to turn around. I want to say something. I do. I should—
But Colin is already gone, the sounds of a weathered engine fading in his wake.
Lee takes my hand, warming it in his own. We trudge along the shoveled sidewalk toward the porch. I used to count my paces when I was little, used to know where I was going without seeing the world in front of me, savoring the confidence of each step. The knowledge that my two-hundred-year-old house was still there, buried in its foundation, aging slowly enough for me to feel like it would never change, was enough to steady my stride.
But now, every step, even with my eyes wide-open, feels like a blind leap.