“So sorry,” the mom says with a wry grin. She grabs her son by back of his collar. “We should definitely be putting more sugar in him, huh? That’ll make things much better.”
Dan gives her a tight-lipped smile and a nod, but he doesn’t say anything. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, his shoulders bunched. The obvious explanation is that the kid annoyed him, but as I watch him, I realize that’s not it at all. It was the mom, the interaction with a stranger. The line of people in this small town, all gossiping and looking at each other.
I take a step forward, angling my body so I cocoon him in a little circle that’s just us.
“Did you come here a lot as a kid?” I ask, then immediatelysecond-guess myself. “Sorry, you don’t have to tell me. I mean, we can just be quiet.”
Dan’s eyes flick up, and I see him realize that despite my small stature, I’m blocking him from the rest of the line. I watch his shoulders relax as he breathes out; in this moment, despite the crowd, it’s just him and me.
And then he speaks.
“My brothers and I used to ride our bikes out here every Friday night when we were kids.”
I remember that, of course. I loved escaping my quiet, watchful home to spend time at the fun and chaotic McBride house. Grace’s brothers were always loud, always banging around. Sometimes I’d convince my mom to let me spend the night there, and Grace and I would watch the four McBride boys ride off into the night, leaving us behind with Mr. McBride, who usually fell asleep on the couch watching baseball. Mrs. McBride died when Grace was born and Dan was just eight years old. The McBride boys had to grow up quickly, and Mr. McBride was left to care for an infant and four rowdy boys on all his own. They definitely got to do things my watchful, worried parents never would have allowed.
To say nothing of the superior snacks full of artificial colors and flavors that lived in their pantry. Were it not for the McBrides, I’d never have been introduced to the wonders of Pop-Tarts and Fruit Roll-Ups and Cookie Crisp.
“I remember watching you guys ride off with flashlights in your back pockets, hoping that cars would see you,” I say.
“Probably not the safest,” he admits. “I can’t believe we never got in an accident.”
“I bet Felix was a mess out there,” I say.
“His head was always on a swivel, distracted by every little thing.”
“He’s still like that,” I add.
“If we hadn’t been there to keep an eye on him, he probably would’ve followed a butterfly and wound up in Illinois.”
“What did you used to get here?” I ask.
He thinks for a moment, like he can’t remember. “Root beer float,” he finally says.
“Seriously? Were you born sixty-five years old?”
He makes a mock-wounded face. “Hey, don’t yuck my yum.”
“I’m just saying, you had the entire Dairy Barn menu at your disposal and no parental supervision, and you ordered root beer floats?”
Dan shrugs. “I like what I like,” he says, and then I swear his eyes sweep the length of my body in such a way that I feel his gaze in my bone marrow. Goose bumps spring up all over my skin, and I have to swallowhardto keep my cool.
“Grace and I were always so jealous that you guys got to run off,” I say, thankful that I manage to get the sentence out despite the pounding of my heart. “We tried to follow you around like little ducklings.”
“Yeah, we were assholes for ditching her all the time. We just always thought of her as so fragile, and none of us wanted to be responsible for her.”
The McBride family is a huge part of my childhood memories, but hearing Dan talk about the past feels precious. Like holding a firefly in your cupped hands, waiting for it to illuminate again. I want to hear more. I want to see all those memories through his eyes.
“Luckily she had you,” he says.
“You remember me from back then?” I ask, because it’s the first time he’s ever referred to the fact that he’s known me since I was a kid. That I was there too, not as loud as Grace about wanting to be included but yearning for it nonetheless. I figured he’d barely noticed me, and in his defense, it wasn’t like I had my eye on him back then, either. Or I did, but I had my eye on…well,everyone.I was a stereotypically boy-crazy little girl who looked at each of the McBride brothers and imagined what it would be like to be on his arm. Together, they were just this nebulous blob of hot guy that was always around but never available to me.
Dan laughs. “I remember you. Always there to back up Grace when she wanted to play video games with us, even though I’m pretty sure you had no interest inAssassin’s Creed.”
I roll my eyes. “Less than no interest. Frankly, those graphics make me motion sick. But I’ve always been a loudmouth where my best friends are concerned. And I am definitely still salty that you never took us with you on your bike excursions.”
He shrugs. “They weren’t very exciting.”
“Excuse me, you just told me you got to eat ice cream without parental supervisionevery Friday. Sounds pretty good to me.”
