Ever since returning home from Alabama, whenever I try to sit and read a book, or wait in line at the grocery store, or attempt to fall asleep at night, my mind uses the moment of relaxation to unearth memories of a time I thought I’d left behind me forever.
Memories of that summer. The one after my first year of college.
That summer was all kinds of perfect.
Until it wasn’t.
I blame these frequent trips into the past on too much Dom exposure combined with the casual communication I’ve reestablished with the twins.
At the start of that June, I wasn’t looking forward to the warm months. Josh had an internship in New York, Dom was set to work full-time, and I expected he would spend his free hours with Rosaline. My mom had disappeared on some excursion she claimed would revitalize her aura. I wanted to be back in school, away from Florence, who always seemed to blame me for her own daughter’s absence, rather than the woman who kept leaving me behind.
Dom’s mom’s accident changed everything—a car crash that landed Mrs. Perry in the hospital followed by months of limited mobility and physical therapy.
I never wanted her hurting, but with their family in need, I finally got to start paying the Perrys back for years of care. No longer was I the quiet neighbor girl who struggled to breathe and lived with a mother and a grandmother who wouldn’t mind if I disappeared. That summer I became the responsible young woman who looked out for the twins and picked up groceries and dried dishes while Dom washed them after dinner every night. A dinner I was eagerly invited to stay for by every member of the family.
We got into a comfortable routine, where I arrived in the morning to drive Adam and Carter to swim practice. While they did laps, I swung by the library to find a book for the day. Then I’d arrive back at the pool in time for it to open to the public. Situated under an umbrella and wearing a thick coating of sunscreen, I’d read for most of the day in a lounge chair, using my finger as a bookmark when Adam would break off from his teenage friend group and ask me to rate his cannonball skills. At lunch, the boys would pile into the back seat of my old Honda Civic, filling the hot car with the scent of chlorine and sunscreen—which I insisted they both regularly apply despite their not having vampire skin like mine—and we’d debate over which fast-food drive-through to visit for the day. Mr. Perry always gave me cash in the morning when I picked them up. I think he considered it payment for babysitting. But I didn’t want their money.
I wanted their family.
Especially with Josh states away all summer.
Without the Perrys, it would’ve just been Florence and me until the semester started again. My mom’s cleansing retreat in California was set to last months. Leaving on some random trip was her MO my entire childhood. It’s not that I missed my self-involved mother. Only, when she left, Florence would remind me that my mother had to escape her life so often because she was miserable. Miserable because her husband was gone. Miserable because her son didn’t show his mother or Florence the proper respect. Miserable because I was her daughter, and who would want that?
So, while plenty of nineteen-year-olds would’ve hated committing their summer months to looking after two thirteen-year-olds, I loved it. I loved how Adam passionately argued for Taco Bell every single day, and how Carter would share an eye roll with me whenever we gave in and let the smooth talker get his way. I loved how the twins wore matching grins when I pulled my old car into their driveway every morning. I loved how Adam would tell corny jokes and Carter would sing along to show tunes with me. I loved how when I brought them home after the pool closed, Mrs. Perry would open her arms to hug the twins from her seat on the couch and say, “There’s my little monsters and the monster tamer.”
But most of all, I loved how Dom would set aside his laptop, stand from his seat with a spine crack and a groan, then stride across the room and hug me.
I loved how he’d lift me off my feet, until his lips were near my ear, and in a voice low enough that only I could hear, he’d murmur, “Thank fuck for Maddie Sanderson.”
And as I recovered from the affection and irresponsible word usage, Adam would scowl at his older brother and demand Dom set me down before he broke me in half while Carter made not-at-all-subtle kissing noises.
It was a little play we did most days, and I lived for it. Because it never felt like acting.
I became addicted. I dreaded the conclusion of summer. Especially when I realized the end was coming sooner than I planned.
The twins had summer camp in August. Two weeks of them gone. No more need for me to pick them up and spend my day with them. No more fast-food dates and silly singing and bad jokes.
No more thank-you hugs from Dom.
Back then, I had no trouble crying, and I spent a lot of that last day at the pool wearing my extra-large sunglasses, holding a book in front of my face, and pressing a towel to my cheeks so no one would notice how tears were streaming from my eyes in a continuous flow. Adam and Carter were more quiet than normal on our final lunch run, and I didn’t even ask before pulling into the Taco Bell drive-through. Not that I tasted the chicken quesadilla even after dousing it in hot sauce.
We were back at the pool, me hiding my face again, when my lounge chair dipped. I dropped my book to find Adam had settled himself by my feet, a surly expression on his face.
“I don’t want to go to camp,” the kid declared, conveniently forgetting how a few weeks ago he wouldn’t shut up about all the adventurous activities he couldn’t wait for.
Camping! Hiking! Building fires! Swimming across the lake and back to impress the lifeguards!
“It’ll be fun,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster despite not wanting our summer to end, either, and knowing that if I had to attend an adventure camp, I would dread every minute of the experience.
Maddie Sanderson and her delicate lungs did not—and still do not—belong in the outdoors.
Adam didn’t respond, just frowned hard at the concrete beneath his feet and gave a surly shrug of his bony shoulders.
In that moment, I knew I had to tuck away my misery and be the responsible one. Adam refusing to go to camp at the last minute would be a major stressor on the Perry family, and my goal was to make their lives easier.
“Hey.” I’d extended my leg and poked him with my toe. “You know I can’t really do camp stuff, right? Because of my asthma.” Even if I could, I still wasn’t a camp girl, but Adam didn’t need to hear that.
He gave me a small nod, pool water from his hair dripping onto my towel.
“Well,” I continued in a wheedling tone, “I was looking forward to you going and telling me about it.”
Adam stared at me with those big brown eyes surrounded by dark lashes all the Perrys have. The teen looked like an adorable, hopeful puppy in that moment.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I poked him with my toe again, earning a reluctant smile. “I’m going to live vicariously through you, Adam Perry. Go have adventures. As many as you can. Then come home and tell me about them.”
His grin, the slow spread of it, was a beautiful thing. “Okay. I can do that.”
Then he stood, bent over me, and shook his head like a dog, showering me in pool water. Adam laughed almost as deep as his older brother when I squealed and threw my bottle of sunscreen at him. Then he ran off to rejoin his friends, his good humor restored.
Carter watched our exchange from across the pool deck, smile sad. That said it all.
I dropped my sunglasses enough so the quiet twin could see me roll my eyes. He chuckled and turned back to his friends.
The next day, I went with Dom and Mrs. Perry—who was finally walking on her own—to drop the twins off at the bus they were going to ride to camp. The boys hugged their mom and their brother. Then they each hugged me, and I could still smell chlorine in their hair and was shocked to realize sometime during the summer they’d both grown to my height.
Didn’t stop me from babying them by shoving extra bottles of sunscreen in their duffle bags as they pretended to groan. But neither of them had been locked outside by their grandmother when they were ten at the height of summer and gotten so sunburned on their arms and shoulders that their skin blistered and seeped puss for weeks.
No, they had people who loved and cared for them. And I was one of those people.
That was the last time I saw them before Josh’s funeral.
After we sent the twins off to camp, there was no reason for me to go to the pool anymore. I figured I’d spend the rest of my summer in the library, as per my original plan. But when we pulled into the Perrys’ driveway, Dom invited me inside. Emilia gave me a hug, then disappeared into the office she’d been using during the summer to keep up with paperwork—not even a life-threatening accident kept her away from her job for long.
Still in a sad daze of missing the twins, I didn’t realize at first that Dom had led me to the screened porch on the back of their house. I’d always adored the sitting space with its thick-cushioned seats, shaded from the direct glare of the sun and kept cool with lazy ceiling fans.
“Guess you’re glad to have more free time now,” Dom said, staring out at the backyard, his hands tucked deep in his pockets.
I tried for a smile but couldn’t manage more than a grimace. “I’m an evil mastermind who just lost two high-quality minions. ‘Glad’ isn’t the right word.”
His stoic mask broke with a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Ah. So you’re the one who corrupted my brothers.”
“Of course.” My smirk came easy. “They were two perfect little angels before they met me.”
That earned me a snort, and I bit my lips to keep from smiling. For most of my life I struggled to form words around Dom. He was a brooding force of intimidation, and I wanted him to like me so much but had no idea how to make that happen. The only way I figured I could manage it was by not bothering him with chatter and continuing to be his best friend’s little sister. Maybe then, some of the love he felt for Josh would rub off on me.
But as we stood on that porch, I realized the dynamic between us had shifted in some indiscernible way. That how I felt around the man had changed. Maybe it was the maturity I’d cultivated in leaving home and attending a year of college. Maybe it was the fact that I’d helped his family over the summer instead of living off the Perrys’ charity.
Or maybe it was the embarrassing stories Adam liked to tell about Dom when he was in a feisty mood.
Whatever the cause, I no longer saw Dom as some mythical god.
Of course, I still had my massive crush on the guy and wanted him to like me. But the urge to bow down in his presence was gone.
“What are you going to do without your minions?” His tone was light and teasing when he asked, but the reality hit me once again. I turned my head away, blinking fast to get rid of the tears forming from missing them.
“I’m not sure. I’ve still got a few weeks until the semester starts. I guess I’ll just hang out.” Not at my house, though, where Florence would pick and scold and berate me for things I couldn’t change.
Dom cleared his throat.
“Adam says you read all day.” He waved toward the far end of the porch. “You could read here. If you want. You like the swinging bench, right?”
More than most other places in the world. But my eyes tracked over his shoulder to a card table arranged next to an outdoor outlet. A laptop sat on the surface along with folders and stacks of papers held down by a paperweight.
Dom’s makeshift office.
“You’re working out here.” I pointed to the setup.
Dom didn’t bother to glance at the arrangement. “So?”
“So, wouldn’t I distract you?”
He continued to hold my gaze. “You’ll just be reading. You don’t read out loud, do you?”
A smile tugged at my lips. “I can. Make different voices for the characters. Put on a whole performance.”
His teeth tugged on his bottom lip and humor sparked in his eyes. “Maybe on my lunch break.”
Lunch. My mind returned to Adam and Carter. “I could grab us food. If I read here, that is. Get some takeout.”
He wrinkled his nose, and the expression was surprisingly adorable on the devastatingly handsome man. “Not Taco Bell.”
At that, I burst out laughing. It was either that or cry.
“Okay.” I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye, still giggling. “I don’t think I could betray Adam like that anyway.”
Dom’s lips tightened, and I continued chuckling as I wandered over to the swinging bench and pulled my latest paperback from my bag. The yellowed pages were a soothing soft brush against my fingers and the spine let out a comforting creak that melded with the squeak of the sturdy chains holding the padded bench suspended from the porch ceiling. It was one of those large swinging benches, almost the size of the mattress in my dorm room, and covered in throw pillows.
I’d sat on it hundreds of times through my life, but that day felt different.
Because it was just Dom and me.
Now I don’t think I could stand to look at that bench. Not after what happened two weeks later.
Not when Dom lay beside me on it, held me tight to his body, kissed me like breathing didn’t matter, and touched me like I was precious.
Not when I came upon him sitting on the same bench beside Rosaline the next morning and heard the words that destroyed me.
“Let’s get married,” he’d said to her.
I hadn’t believed it. Hadn’t been able to move. So, I saw her raise a beautiful tear-stained face to gaze into Dom’s.
“Really?” she’d whispered, though I’d still heard.
“Yes.” His strong hands—the same hands that had touched me the night before—stroked her hair. “I want to marry you.”
Then he’d kissed her forehead.
It was amazing, really, how that gentle gesture had such a violent reaction on my body.
How his loving words tore into my heart until I couldn’t breathe.
Literally. I stumbled around the side of the house, wheezing and fumbling for my emergency inhaler, silently begging that no one discovered me.
The chime of a new email has me blinking my eyes and pulling me back to reality.
I’m not nineteen having an asthma flare-up outside of the Perrys’ house in Pennsylvania. I’m lying on my couch in my Seattle condo. My safe place.
And I’m in the middle of a workday, processing accountant deployments.
Heaving myself into a seated position, I drag my laptop off the coffee table and settle it in my lap. And that’s when I realize the email that pinged was my personal, not my work.
A familiar name sets me to grinding my teeth, with the sting of that summer fresh in my mind.
Still, I open it.
Sender: Dominic Perry
Subject: Next trip
When can you take some time off work next? How do you feel about Kansas?
Sincerely,
Dom
My gaze slips toward the wooden chest I found at a thrift store and bought because it looked like something a pirate would bury their treasure in. I previously used it to store blankets.
Now it holds six Rubbermaid containers full of my dead brother’s ashes.
Josh did always think his booty was priceless.
My heart aches for the chance to hear one more of his ridiculous, groan-worthy jokes. He was like a dorky dad half the time, and I miss his laugh so much my stomach hurts. With an arm wrapped around my middle—as if that’ll stave off the pain—I type a reply one-handed.
Sender: Maddie Sanderson
Subject: RE: Next trip
June. Yes to Kansas.