Trouble from the Start (22 page)

I'm going with you.

Not a
do you want me to go with you
, but
I'm going with you
.

It's what people who cared about you said. They didn't ask if you wanted them to be with you. They just made sure that they were.

Fletcher had driven Trooper, while I'd been in the back with Tyler and comforted him. Now as we sat under the fluorescent lighting in the waiting room of the ER, he was curled on my lap, moaning, asking for Mom. Fletcher was beside us, bent forward, his elbows on his thighs. Every now and then he looked over at us, his brow furrowed deeply.

“Why's it taking them so long?” he asked.

“Sick people ahead of us.” I combed my fingers through
Tyler's hair, hoping to keep us both calm. My worry was escalating as the minutes passed. I needed something to take my mind off it, because I felt like I could hear each second ticking by.

“So how many times have you been to the emergency room?” I asked Fletcher, my tone casual, conversational.

“Too many to count.” He stiffened, closed his eyes, shook his head. When he opened his eyes, to my surprise, he grinned slightly. “You and the questions.”

“I want to know everything about you.”

“Not everything. But I will tell you that one night I was here with a broken arm and your dad came in to talk to me. I'd already been here a couple of times before that: cracked rib, another broken arm, bruises, you know. Anyway, I guess someone had called the cops because I was becoming a frequent flyer. I think he wanted me to point the finger at my dad. The irony was: that time, I'd broken it skateboarding.”

I never would have taken him for a skateboarder. I loved discovering all these little tidbits about him.

I looked down at Tyler. He was flushed and was having trouble keeping his eyes open. I told myself it was because it was so late, but what if it was another reason?

“He's going to be all right,” Fletcher assured me.

They called for us, finally. Fletcher took Tyler from me and carried him, following the nurse down the hallway to
a room of beds, separated by curtains. He set Tyler on a bed, then moved aside. The nurse questioned me, got all the information she needed, then took Tyler's vitals.

“The doctor will be here shortly,” the nurse said before walking out.

I moved up and took Tyler's hand.

The curtains opened, closed, and a short, stout man set a laptop on a table beside the bed. “I'm Dr. Zachary,” he said.

“Avery Watkins. Tyler's my brother. My parents are out of town.”

He looked at me, looked at the computer. “Looks like we have a medical treatment form on record authorizing you to oversee your brother's medical care.”

“Yes, sir.” Mom was extra cautious but she'd never really expected that I'd have to use it. I was a little nervous that I'd had to.

“Okay, little guy, let's see what we have going on,” Dr. Zachary said, checking his ears and his throat, listening to his heart and lungs.

I smiled at the tiny stuffed bear clipped to his stethoscope. Tyler didn't notice it. It was so unusual for him not to notice anything.

“My guess is strep,” Dr. Zachary said. He swabbed Tyler's throat. “I'll call you with the results tomorrow. Meanwhile, I want to give him an injection of antibiotics
and then I'll give you a prescription you can start him on tomorrow.”

My head was spinning. I had to remember all this. “Okay.”

“He's also a little dehydrated. I'd like to get some fluids into him before I release him.”

“Okay.” That one word seemed to be the extent of my vocabulary.

The doctor left and a nurse came in. She gave Tyler the shot and then hooked him up to an IV. When she left, Fletcher scooted a chair toward me.

“Sit down,” he said. “You look like you're about to collapse.”

“I should have paid more attention when he said he wasn't feeling well.”

“Avery, there were three other people there and none of us thought anything about what he said. He'd been eating junk food. It was natural to think that was the problem.”

“He just looks so . . . fragile.”

Fletcher sat in the chair, pulled me onto his lap, and held me. “He's not. If anyone should have noticed he was sick it was me when we were goofing in the pool. But he didn't feel fevered.”

“But he probably was. It couldn't have come on this fast.”

He cupped my cheek, turned my face, made me look at
him. “You brought him as soon as you knew he was sick. They've given him medicine. He's going to be okay. You did everything right.”

“I'm so glad you're here with me. I was so scared.”

“You didn't act scared. You kept cool. You were in control. No panic. You were great.”

Fletcher had been great, too.

It was nearly three in the morning when we got home. Fletcher carried a sleeping Tyler to his bed. I removed his clothes, slipped on his pajamas. I left his Spider-Man lamp on. I didn't close his door. I wanted to be able to hear him if he called for me.

Fletcher was standing in the hallway when I walked out. I went up to him and placed my hands on his shoulders. “It meant a lot to me that you were there tonight.”

“I wasn't going to leave you to take care of him on your own.”

“I know. You say you don't know how to be a boyfriend. I think maybe you just don't know that you do.”

“You really need that label, don't you?”

“Not right away. Not if it's too soon, but to be a kiss zone I have to know I'm the only one you're spending time with.”

“You are.” Then he was kissing me, and it was like everything just overflowed into the kiss. The worry for Tyler. The long wait. The exhaustion. The quiet talks we'd
had. The things we'd shared.

I understood him now like I hadn't before, understood his doubts, his inability to believe in permanence. I could be patient. I could give him the time he needed to get used to the idea of being a boyfriend.

Taking his hand, I led him into my bedroom. I kicked off my sandals and climbed onto the bed. Fletcher stretched out beside me. I snuggled up against him.

“This is all I want for now,” I said quietly.

“I know.”

His arms closed around me, and I drifted off to sleep.

The next two days were pretty much spent entertaining Tyler, retrieving Popsicles for him, playing games, putting on movies, and watching them with him because he didn't want to be alone.

When Fletcher got home from work, he'd take over for a while so I could go for a run, get out of the house for a bit. It was funny how I didn't have to ask him to do any of that. It just happened. And at night, we'd cuddle in my bed, kissing and talking low. Or mostly I talked. Sometimes Fletcher would share something. He wasn't as guarded as he'd been that first day when he came to live with us, but I could tell when he was watching his words, when he was hesitant to reveal too much.

But we were making progress.

He was at work when Mom and Dad got home early Friday afternoon. I could see Dad examining things with a cop's eye as he walked into the house, like he expected to find evidence of a crime.

With a croaky voice, Tyler yelled when they came in, rushed forward, and leaped on Mom. She swung him up like he was a little monkey. I explained about the strep, the trip to the ER.

Mom touched his brow. “No fever now.”

“No,” I assured her. “But the doctor called with the lab results and it was strep.”

“You should have called us,” Dad said.

“Why? We had it under control,” I told him.

Mom leaned in, kissed me on the cheek. “You did good.”

“Me and Fletcher. Fletcher and I.”

“I'll have to fix him something special for dinner,” she said.

“Tell me about your trip.”

Mom blushed, Dad grinned.

“It was fun,” Mom said. “We'll tell you all about it later.”

Friday night, after I got in from work, I thought it was weird to sleep alone in my bed. I almost went out and knocked on Fletcher's door, but I figured my parents were paying attention to things, trying to figure out if anything
had happened between Fletcher and me. Something had happened, but it wasn't something I could explain. I was definitely no longer a no-kiss zone. But exactly what were we? We were exclusive, but not using labels. Without labels, how did I describe us?

We needed more time together. We needed more time to figure things out.

Saturday, since Smiley's was only open until noon, Fletcher got home in time for lunch. As we enjoyed the pralines she'd brought us from New Orleans, Mom got out her tablet and flipped through the pictures they'd taken. She told us about the decadent food, the beignets, and the carriage ride Dad had taken her on. It all sounded wonderfully romantic.

Fletcher and I spent a lot of time avoiding looking at each other, as though we thought they would see everything that had happened in our expressions. As if they'd know about every kiss, every whispered conversation, every cuddle in my bed.

I knew they might be okay with the kiss part, but they definitely wouldn't approve of the bed part. Or maybe they wouldn't approve of the kiss part either. They wanted me to find someone like Jeremy. Fletcher wasn't Jeremy. I was okay with that.

I just didn't know if they would be.

When we were finished with lunch, Fletcher excused
himself. I got ready for work. I halfway thought he might come by the Shrimp Hut but he didn't. I tried not to be disappointed. I'd gotten so used to having him around while Mom and Dad were gone that I was really missing him.

It was after one when I got home, nearly one-thirty when my phone chirped. I smiled when I saw the caller's name. “Hey,” I said in a low, what I hoped was sexy, voice.

“What are you doing?” Fletcher asked.

“I'm in bed.”

“Come over.”

I got up, walked to the window, pulled back the curtain, and looked out. Fletcher stood in the doorway, backlit by one of the lights in the apartment. Since it wasn't very bright, I figured it was a lamp. “You know I can't.”

“I'll answer a question,” he said softly.

I released a light laugh. “Are you bribing me?”

“If that's what it takes.”

Oh, I was tempted, so tempted. But one of us had to stay rational. “Fletcher, if my dad discovered me over there, he'd kick you out.” Not to mention that he'd be disappointed in me.

“It'd be worth it,” Fletcher said.

My heart did this quick little flutter with his willingness to risk so much. Why was I so afraid of taking a chance? I wanted to be with him. I just had this crazy idea that my parents would be able to sense if I were in
the FROG. I'd always been the good, obedient daughter. Tonight I wanted to be with Fletcher more than I wanted to be good. I just didn't want to get caught. “What if we went to the beach?”

“Now?” he asked.

I nodded, realized he probably couldn't see subtle movements in the shadows. “Yes.” Did I have to sound so breathless when I said it? Was this any different than Kendall telling her mom she was spending the night here when she wasn't? When you loved someone you took risks. I didn't know if I loved Fletcher but I did know that I wanted to explore these feelings I had for him. I wanted to know more about his feelings for me.

“Okay,” he said. “Meet me down here. I'll push my bike to the end of the street so we don't disturb anyone. I'll have you home before dawn, before they wake up.”

“I'll be down in ten.”

My nerves were so jittery that my hands barely cooperated as I changed into a pair of black shorts, a pink tank, and pink sneakers. I couldn't believe I was doing this, risking my parents' wrath. They'd eased up on the curfews in anticipation of my going off to college—but I couldn't tell them where I was going without telling them who I was going with. I just didn't know how they would feel about that. They'd blame Fletcher, but as long as we didn't get caught, who were we hurting?

I braided my hair so it would get less tangled during the ride. I slipped my keys into one pocket, my cell phone into another. I stuffed an old blanket into a tote bag.

Then I eased my door open, crept out, closed it behind me. I stood still, listened to the creak of the house and the air conditioner coming on. I slowly tiptoed down the stairs. No TV sounds coming from the den. The only light was the one coming from over the stove that Mom left on to serve as a night-light. The alarm was the tricky thing. It beeped when I turned it off, beeped again when I reset it and closed the door behind me.

I scrambled quickly over the front yard to where Fletcher was already waiting on the street. He flashed a quick grin. My chest tightened. I didn't know exactly where we were going in our relationship. I just knew we were getting there fast.

When I reached him, he held out his helmet to me. I took it, then realized it wasn't his. His was black. This one—I held it up to a streetlight—was red. I looked at him. “Where did you get this?”

“A store. Figured you should have your own, you know, if we're going to be doing more things together.”

Deeply touched, I said, “Thank you.”

“So what's your question?” he asked as he began guiding the bike down the street.

“It'll keep,” I said. “Until we get where we're going.”

“What are your plans for the future?” I asked.

We were lying on our sides, facing each other, on the blanket on the beach. Fletcher had built a fire with driftwood that he'd gathered up. As far as I could see there was no one else out here. The stars were diamonds on velvet. The moon was a slender crescent. The tide lulled us as it rolled in and out.

“I thought you'd ask a question about my past,” he said.

“Is there something you want to share?” I asked.