Manhattan: A Small Town Friends-to-Lovers Romance (Becker Brothers Book 3) Page 3

  She never changed.

  She was the one thing in my life that always remained a constant.

  “I never said I wanted anything,” she pointed out defensively. “I said I have something to talk to you about, and that it’s important.”

  “Right,” I agreed. “But, if something was wrong, you wouldn’t have even asked me to meet you. I would have had to figure it out by you retreating into yourself for days and saying everything was fine. Then, I would have had to tickle it out of you or sit in bed with you until you got so annoyed with my presence that you told me what was wrong.”

  She frowned more, because she knew I was right.

  “And,” I continued, “if it was something exciting, you would have barged through my front door or climbed through my window if it was late and told me on the spot, like you did when you found out you got the volunteer position at the nursing home. When do you start, by the way?”

  Kylie was all but pouting now. “Next week,” she admitted on a sigh. “It’s ridiculous how well you know me.”

  “Now you know how I feel when you call me on my bullshit.”

  “To be fair, you require that kind of tough love. It’s, like, written in your How-to-Friend-Michael-Becker manual.”

  I just lifted a brow and shrugged noncommittally. I didn’t have to answer for her to know I already knew that. Mom said I got that from Dad — the stubbornness, the tendency to shut down and reject anything that made me rethink my actions. I wasn’t sure if that was true, since my memories of my father were distant and hazy, but I did know that Kylie calling me on my shit was all that had saved me from making an ass of myself many, many times in her presence.

  When I didn’t say anything more, Kylie sighed, holding her cone carefully in one hand while she dipped the other into her backpack and retrieved one of her worn notebooks. That girl was always writing stuff down — namely math equations or coding challenges, or half-brained notes about inventions she could make that would somehow save the world.

  “Okay, before I say anything else, I need to remind you of something,” she said, pressing her hand over the top of the notebook protectively, like it held all the secrets of the universe in it.

  I waved a hand for her to go on.

  “When we were eight, you pinky promised me that you would always listen to me — no matter what.”

  I nodded. “I remember.”

  “I need you to keep that promise.”

  I pressed a hand to my chest in mock offense. “I can’t believe you’d insinuate that I’d ever break the sacred vow of a pinky promise.”

  Kylie rolled her eyes, but when they found me again, they were so serious I started to worry. “I mean it. Please, Mikey.”

  I reached over with the hand not sticky with ice cream and squeezed hers with it. “I’m listening.”

  Her eyes stared at that point of contact for a long while, and when her breathing picked up, the worry I’d felt building in my chest doubled. Maybe I had been wrong about her shutting down when something was wrong. Immediately, I thought of her dad.

  And then, I thought of mine.

  My father died in a mysterious fire at the Scooter Whiskey Distillery — the only fire to ever happen in the history of the distillery. I’d been so young, I didn’t remember much — except for the hopeless, empty feeling I’d had once I realized that my father was never coming home again.

  Over the years, as I grew up, I learned from little comments here and there that my older brothers and my mom didn’t believe the story we were fed by both the fire department and the owner of the distillery. They said it was started by a cigarette, but we all knew my father never smoked.

  There was foul play — at least, that’s what my family had always suspected. But, we never had proof… that we knew of. But when my older brother, Logan, found a box of our father’s things — all half charred from the fire — we found a few more clues as to what happened that day.

  The biggest one was the damaged laptop that hid a still-working hard drive.

  Logan had kept quiet about it for a long while, trying to break into it on his own, but when he’d finally told me and our other brothers about it, I’d offered to take over.

  Well, technically, I’d volunteered Kylie to take over.

  She’d been into coding and HTML since we were kids. Provided, it had mostly been for fun — like the year she coded one of the Christmas trees outside the lighthouse to dance and sparkle with whatever colors she wanted it to. Still, I knew if anyone could break into that hard drive, it was her.

  So, suddenly, my heart was in my throat, and I pulled my hand away from hers with the next breath leaving my chest completely.

  Was this it? Had she broken in? What did she find?

  Kylie abandoned what was left of her ice cream cone, tossing it in the nearby waste bin before she blew out a long breath, closed her eyes, and spoke.

  “I know you’ve already made up your mind about New York, but I want you to reconsider.”

  The tightness in my chest evaporated instantly with her words, the anticipation that she’d found something on the hard drive gone — along with my appetite.

  I sighed, taking one last bite of my waffle cone before I tossed the rest of it in the same trash can she’d just threw hers.

  “Hear me out,” she said, opening her notebook.

  “Why is it so hard for everyone to just accept that this is my decision, and to be happy for me?” I asked, anger heating my neck. I expected this from my mom, and even from my brothers, but from Kylie?

  She was the one person I thought understood.

  “I do accept that it’s your decision,” she clarified. “I just… I want the chance to show you the other option.”

  “As in, staying in Stratford,” I deadpanned.

  She swallowed, her big doe eyes doubling in size. “Yes.”

  “I already know that option. I’ve been living in that option since I was born.”

  “But you’ve forgotten everything that’s good about this town.”

  I scoffed. “Oh, right, because there’s so much to count in that category.”

  Kylie smacked her hand down on the picnic table, cheeks red again — but this time, not from a blush. “There is, Mikey, and you thought so, too, before a stupid girl soured everything for you and made you want to leave it all behind.”

  Her words were so loud that the people sitting at the table next to us glanced our way — a table full of freshly graduated seniors from our class. They watched us with a mixture of pity and wariness before they turned their attention back to their own conversation, and the anger I’d felt before bloomed like an angry ivy up my neck.

  “Thanks for the reminder.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kylie said quickly, smoothing her hand over the page she’d opened to in her notebook. “But, you promised you’d listen. So, just… listen. Okay?”

  If it were anyone but Kylie, I would have gotten up and walked away. But, as it was, I had made her a promise all those years ago, and I wasn’t backing out on it now.

  I crossed my arms, waiting.

  “Here’s what I’m proposing,” she said, blowing out a tentative breath with her hand smoothing over the page of her notebook. “You said you’re moving at the end of the summer, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, I want the next two months to show you everything you used to love about this town, and remind you that there’s more here for you than just the memories of Bailey.”

  Something akin to a sharp, hot knife hit my chest at the mention of her name, like just those two syllables were a warning to my entire body that pain was about to be inflicted. I swallowed, and Kylie must have noticed the fault line in my demeanor, because her eyes softened where she watched me.

  “I made a list,” she said, scooting the notebook toward me.

  “Of course you did.”

  That made her smirk, and the knot in my chest loosened as I glanced down at the page.

  “Mi
key and Ky’s List of Epic Stratford Adventures,” I read aloud, cocking a brow when I looked at my best friend again. “That’s an oxymoron, you know — epic and Stratford.”

  “Ha, ha,” she said, swiping the notebook back from me and petting it like it was her dog that I’d kicked. “You used to love this town, and believe it or not, even though Bailey is gone, it’s still the same town it was when you were happy and in love.”

  “That’s just the problem,” I pointed out. “Nothing ever changes in this town. It’s stale, boring, dried up. I need something new, something exciting, something…”

  “That doesn’t remind you of her.”

  I swallowed, looking down at my hands folded on the table top.

  “It’s not just that,” I tried to explain, not really sure where to start. “When I was with her, I had everything figured out. I knew exactly who I was, where I was going, who I would be in the future. Now, that’s all been erased.” I looked at her. “I’m lost, Ky. I don’t know who I am or where to go or what to do next. All I know is that being here feels like sitting in a burning room with the smoke suffocating me when all I have to do is stand, walk to the door, and open it to get out and find relief.” My chest tightened. “New York City is the place where the lost ones go, and it’s where I want to be.”

  Kylie’s eyebrows drew together, and for a long moment, she just watched me — silent, understanding.

  Just like she always had been.

  “Look,” she said after a long pause. “I’m not asking for anything crazy. You’re going to be here for the next two months anyway, right? So, all I’m asking is that you hang out with me for a large portion of that time and give me this chance.”

  “You’re wasting your time,” I told her. “I can’t wait until the end of the summer to start preparing for the move. I have to find an apartment, a job.”

  “I know,” she said softly, and it was the first time I saw the real hurt behind her hopeful eyes. “And that’s fine. I get it. Maybe none of this will change your mind. But, even if it doesn’t, you have nothing to lose by agreeing. If anything, it can be like one last hurrah. A summer of fun with yours truly before you ditch this town and leave it in your dust.”

  I blew out a long breath through my nose, shaking my head, because I already knew nothing would change my mind, but I didn’t know how to tell that to Kylie — who was looking at me with big puppy eyes right now.

  “Please, Mikey,” she said, leaning down to catch my gaze. “Let me remind you why you love Stratford, and show you that Bailey was just a part of your story here — not all of it.”

  The afternoon sun slipped past the umbrella covering us, catching the gold flakes in her otherwise brown eyes as she watched me. I knew those eyes as if they were my own, because they’d been a part of my life since I was eight years old.

  And so had Kylie.

  She’d been the only one to truly understand what I was going through that first year we became friends. We’d mourned our parents’ death together, gone through puberty together, laughed and cried and celebrated and hurt together. And even though I didn’t deserve it, she’d been right there for me when Bailey had left, and she hadn’t asked for a single apology — even though I owed her several.

  It didn’t matter that my mind was already made up. It didn’t matter that I knew she didn’t have a chance of convincing me to stay. All that did matter was that she was my best friend, and she deserved the time she was asking for in my last months in town.

  So, I propped my elbow up on the table, and extended my pinky toward her with as much of a smile as I could muster.

  The worry on her face washed away immediately, eyes flicking back and forth between my gaze and my hand. “Really?”

  I nodded.

  A little squeal came out of that girl as her smile took over her entire face — just like it always did.

  Then, she looped her pinky through mine, and the deal was done.

  Kylie

  Having dinner with the Becker family was like having dinner in a circus ring.

  The level of noise always hovered somewhere right around roaring tiger and carousel of screaming children, thanks to four brothers who thought the only way to be heard was to speak even louder over the other. Tonight, all four of them were gathered around that long table that we’d sat at for more nights than I could remember, plus Noah’s fiancé, Ruby Grace, Logan’s girlfriend, Mallory Scooter, and perhaps my favorite new addition to the family, Betty Collins, a spunky senior citizen brought into the family by Ruby Grace and the time she spent volunteering down at the nursing home.

  The same nursing home I would be volunteering at this summer — thanks to Ruby Grace pulling some strings.

  Michael belched so loud beside me once he’d cleared his plate that my jaw dropped, and he just grinned at me before high-fiving his older brother, Logan.

  Mama Becker shook her head. “Manners, Mikey.”

  “Maybe he’s practicing for his move to The Big Apple,” his oldest brother, Noah, teased.

  “Ohhh, yeah,” Logan agreed. “He’s got to work on his Jerk Face.”

  “And on his accent. Hey, Mikey — say ‘Car’, but without the r,” said Jordan, the oldest.

  Michael rolled up his napkin and tossed it at them, making everyone laugh. It was sort of dizzying, sitting at a table with all of the Becker boys. Mikey and Logan favored their mother, sporting the same olive skin and hazel eyes, whereas Noah was the spitting image of their father — not that I’d ever seen anything more than just a photo of him. At least, not that I could remember. But those piercing blue eyes and that sideways grin that hung in several photos on the wall looked just like Noah.

  Jordan was perhaps the only one who stood out a bit, being that he was adopted. His umber skin and dark, short hair were about the only things that were different, though. He somehow had that Becker smile, even if it was biologically impossible, and more than anything, I knew Becker blood ran deep in that man. He was a brother and a son above all else — and one hell of a football coach right after that.

  “Don’t start,” Michael warned, but he wore as close to a smile as he’d had in months as his brother teased him. Part of me wondered if making the decision to move had lightened the load on his shoulders a bit, if he was feeling like he could relax a little more now that he’d told his family that he was leaving.

  The other part of me wondered if I stood a chance in hell of changing his mind.

  I’d gotten him to agree to let me try earlier that day outside of Blondies — even if he assured me it wouldn’t work. Maybe it was silly and naïve to find hope in the pinky promise he’d made me, but I clung to it anyway.

  I had one summer to convince him that he didn’t need to leave this town to get over Bailey.

  I just hoped I could actually do it.

  “I agree,” Mama Becker said, tidying her napkin on her lap before she played with the fork on her dessert plate. The leftover graduation cake from yesterday that she’d served us was gone, so she had nothing to play with, but her eyes stayed on that plate, anyway. “I don’t want to talk about my baby boy moving across the country.”

  “Mama…” Michael said, frowning.

  Lorelei shook her head, eyes glossing over as she forced a smile, and pointed it right at me. “Ky, tell us about all the amazing plans you have for your gap year.”

  A blush heated my cheeks, traveling quickly down my neck to my chest. I gave a tight-lipped smile, aiming for casual and funny as I tried to joke about it. “Well, I would — if I had a plan.”

  “Isn’t a gap year supposed to be about traveling?” Betty asked from the end of the table. She whistled. “I tell ya, they should give me a gap year. I’d blow this popsicle stand and high-tail it to Italy. Get me some of that fancy ice cream. What’s it called? Gaston?”

  Ruby Grace chuckled, touching Betty’s arm. “Gelato, Betty. Gaston is the name of the villain guy in Beauty and the Beast.”

  “Oh,” Betty said, but th
en she waved her off. “Well, if there’s a guy who looks like him over there, toss him into the mix, too. I can handle it.”

  The table roared with laughter, and Ruby Grace shook her head. “Gaston is French, not Italian.”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to go to France, too.”

  I was hopeful that Betty’s charm and the laughter would distract everyone long enough for a new subject to be raised, but of course all eyes turned back to me.

  “I just can’t believe you’re not going straight to college,” Logan said. He nudged Mallory, then. “This girl is in love with math and science the way most girls are in love with Justin Bieber.”

  I could have fried an egg on my cheeks when the table chuckled in unison.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Mikey said, clasping his hand on my shoulder like I was one of his brothers. I might as well have been. “She’ll be saving the world soon enough.”

  Ruby Grace lit up at that. “Are you thinking of AmeriCorps?”

  I shook my head, playing with the napkin in my lap so I had something to do other than internally cringe at the attention being on me. “No, although I think it sounds amazing,” I added, knowing that was close to her heart. “I’m more of the in-the-lab, nose-in-the-books kind of girl.”

  “She’s going to be a part of the team that ends our water crisis,” Mikey said confidently. “Or figures out how to power vehicles off garbage. Or finds a bio-degradable and affordable substitute for plastic.”

  Jordan sat back in his chair, assessing me like he was impressed. “You really think those things are possible?”

  I shrugged, taking a sip of my water as I found the words. “I mean, in theory, yes — of course it’s possible. Everything is. The way I see it, the world we live in, the universe, it’s all one big math problem. The issue is that as a human race, we only know so much. There are too many variables to have all the answers we want, at least, at this time. But, each decade that passes, we discover more and more. Theories change, new science is born, math problems are solved. Think about our grandparents, or their grandparents… do you think they ever imagined we’d hold tiny computers in our hands that could answer any question we ever had? That could guide us across the country with a navigation system? Do you think they ever thought we’d have stem cells, that we’d be able to grow a lung, that we’d be able to manipulate DNA to possibly eliminate life-threatening diseases?”