The next morning I woke to pale, bright sunlight blinding from overhead. I groaned, pulling at the thin blanket to shield my eyes. The movement agitated the muscle in my neck which felt like it had been wound too tight for too long. I lazily rubbed at the sleep still resting in my eyes with the back of my hand, blinking at the room.
I'd fallen asleep on the bean bag with my neck dangling off the side, just above the floor. No wonder it felt like I needed a chiropractor to crack every bone in my body.
Matt was still sound asleep opposite me, his legs spread out, face down in his own bean bag. He clutched a blue and white knit throw to his chest. We must've passed out in the middle of talking. The last thing I remember is our conversation about how the boys had been floating the idea of moving away from L.A..
"I don't know if we'd come back to Boston full-time," he said. "We're getting older now, and we can't keep running home anytime life starts to push us."
I'd told him that it wasn't a bad thing having a home to run back to. "I hear that's what family is for." I nudged him with my shoulder. A sad smile flickered across his face that felt like it should've been reserved for a puppy at a shelter instead of me.
Half moon marks formed in my palms. I squinted. "I'm going to need you to stop doing that."
His brows furrowed. "Doing what?"
"That," I waved my hand in front of his face, "looking at me like I'm some kind of lost puppy you want to take home."
There was so much bitterness in my voice, it shocked me as much as it had Matt, his face repositioning into confusion.
"Nat, I -"
I lifted my hand, stopping him. "No, I know. I'm sorry."
We sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, awkwardly looking out into the night. The rain had subsided, leaving the trees weighed down in water. Round puddles formed beneath the window sills on the dirt path leading away from the cabin.
"Opening up to you, to your brothers, is one of the scariest decisions I've ever made," I whispered. Matt didn't answer, but I could see him looking at me from the corner of my eye. I fiddled with the string on my pajama pants. "And when you look at me like that, like you want to piece me back together, it pisses me off. More than that, it hurts." I was looking at him now, biting back tears stinging behind my eyes. I hoped it was dark enough so he couldn't see.
"I don't need to be fixed," I said a little sterner, though I knew it was more for myself than him.
There was nothing he could say, so he gave me the faintest nod, a pained expression tinting his features.
Part of me felt guilty about how harsh I was after we'd spent the whole night surrounded by a weird complicated bubble of emotions - but I was being honest. It was one thing for someone I didn't care about to curl their lip and nod their head in sympathy at what I'd gone through; however, it was entirely different for Matt to watch me like I was made of glass, ready to break at any moment.
I might've allowed myself to show a few cracks the past couple of days, but that didn't mean I was going to shatter. There wasn't a chance in hell I'd let them see that.
As quietly as I could, I stood up from my spot on the bean bag, tiptoeing over to the door. Please don't squeak, please don't squeak. I edged the door open and the same shrill pitch started. I froze, my eyes wide landing on Matt. He shifted in his sleep, an indistinct moan coming from him. I bit my lip.
Okay, yank it fast like a bandaid. I braced my hand around the wobbly gold knob and twisted my eyes closed before jerking the door wide open. Its hinges squealed momentarily, but were nowhere near as loud as it'd been before. I sighed, relieved.
I left the door open behind me as I stepped into the shaded kitchen. Fragments of daylight poked through cracks in the blinds, spilling onto the white tile floor and speckled laminate countertops. Everything was still. The microwave clock read 6:42. That early? I couldn't have slept for more than a handful of hours, but given the position I'd slept in, I wasn't all that surprised.
My tote bag was leaning against the foot of the bunk bed as I crept through the back bedroom, making sure to keep my steps light. Chris' leg was dangling off the top bunk, his sweatpant leg hiked up near his knee. Both he and Nick snored softly.
Careful to not wake them, I rummaged quietly through the bag until I found what I was looking for. My journal held onto the wrinkles and smeared ink from the day I'd spilt my coffee, but I'd managed to flatten it out most of the way. Might as well use the time I had to myself to get some words down. God knows my brain could use the release.
I threw on the black hoodie Chris had left on the couch, remnants of campfire lingering in its fabric, then snuck out onto the back porch.
Morning dew covered what was left of the wood in the firepit, the air just as sticky as it'd been all summer. That was the one thing I missed about California: dry heat. No matter how ungodly hot it got during June and July, it never made you feel like you could slither out of your skin.
I raked the sleeve of Chris's sweatshirt across one of the adirondack chairs to soak up leftover rain. A cool dampness seeped through the fabric of my pajamas, making me shiver. Although it was early, and the air was moist, the sun felt nice on my cheeks. I tilted my face skyward, letting it warm me from the inside.
I'd spent so much time with Nick, Matt and Chris lately, I'd almost forgotten what it was like to sit in peace and quiet.
Branches swayed gently in the wind, their outstretched limbs rustling against one another. I propped my legs up on the seat, resting my journal on them. The last entry was only a day old, but felt like a lifetime ago.
I know they say life moves pretty fast, but I didn't think they meant this fast.
The letters "Black Ink Submission" were staring me right in the face, big and bold and taunting. I remember reading the journal's website when the submission window first opened. It'd said that Black Ink was looking for travel essays, but that they were open to loose interpretations of the prompt. Show us who you are. Show us where you belong. I closed the book with a heavy sigh. A surge of doubt washed over me, heavy as Chris's hoodie in the morning's rising heat. I wasn't cut out for this. Being a writer. Confronting my father. Untangling whatever the hell was going on between Matt and I.
Staying in one place, I thought.
Dread tugged at my insides. There was a little voice in the back of my head saying Go. If you leave now it'll hurt less.
"What are you doing out here?" a voice came from behind.
I shrieked, throwing the journal onto the concrete and whipping my head around. Chris stood languidly by the back door, his pant leg still pulled up, face riddled with sleep.
I clutched at my chest where my heart pounded violently. "Jesus Christ, Chris! Make a noise or something next time." I huffed.
A dazed smile spread across his lips, stirring a laugh from my beating chest. "You could use a brush," I joked.
His slender fingers made their way up to his ruffled hair, patting it down on all sides. It didn't help. The flattened strands protruded in all directions making him look like a mad scientist.
"Too early. Be nice," he whined, padding over across the porch. Sunlight rained down on his tired frame, highlighting the pillow marks on his cheeks. "You didn't answer me," he stretched his arms above his head, "how come you're out here by yourself?"
I stuck my arm through the space in the chair to grab my journal, wiping its cover off on my pants. "I didn't want to wake anyone." I lifted the book in his direction. I hadn't expected any of them to wake up before at least eleven.
"What are you doing up so early?" I asked.
Chris made his way over to one of the open adirondack chairs and rested his forearms across its back. "Had to pee and saw that you and Matt weren't in the room." There was a question hidden in the statement.
I looked at the fire pit. "Yeah, couldn't sleep."
The chair grated across the concrete as Chris moved to sit down. His nose wrinkled when he felt the water soak into his sweats.
"Where is Matt?" he said, looking around.
"In the sunroom. We fell asleep in there," I said as casually as possible.
Chris's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, a teasing sparkle glimmering in his blue eyes. He opened his mouth to make what I assumed would be a perverted joke, but I beat him to it. "No!" I pointed my finger at him, trying my best to muster a look that said I'm warning you.
He rolled his lips together, biting back whatever he was dying to say. I kept my finger pointed at him and it wasn't long before both of us burst into laughter.
"Fine, fine. I'll keep it to myself," he said, sliding his fingers over his mouth like he was zipping his lips shut.
"Thank you," I said, shaking my head. There was no explanation for what happened last night, not that anything had happened, but I'd rather chalk up our almost, maybe, probably not hook up to delirium instead of having to acknowledge that we almost crossed a boundary that was better off staying in tact.
"Is that my sweatshirt?" Chris looked me up and down.
"Yeah, you left it on the couch and I didn't want to sneak back into the room again to grab mine. I hope that's okay..."
"I guess I can let you wear it," he started. "If you let me read this." Before I had time to react Chris snatched the journal out of my lap and moved to the other side of the firepit, out of reach.
"Chris!" I shrieked, jumping to my feet. "Give it back!"
He wasn't that tall, but compared to me, all it took was extending his arm with the book in hand for it to be far enough away from my grasp. I jumped up and down, desperately trying to grab it out of his hand, but he stood on his tippy toes and I was out of luck.
"Oh, come on, Nat. Jenny said you're brilliant," he mocked, waving the book above my head. I glared up at him. "You look like an angry elf." He cackled.
I shoved his chest indignantly. No one other than Jenny had read my writing pretty much ever. My mom wasn't allowed anywhere near my journal growing up. I kept it under my pillow while I slept and in my backpack with me at school, too worried she'd invade my privacy and read something she shouldn't.
"Chris, I'm serious," I said, crossing my arms.
With a heavy sigh he relented. "All right. But you have to let me read something someday." He stuck his pinky finger out making me promise.
I hooked my finger around his. Someday I could work with, just not today.
We settled back into the patio chairs, listening to the world slowly start to rise. Squirrels chittered in the trees and every so often a lone car would travel past the cabin, its tires churning over gravel.
"You can go back to bed," I said, glancing over at Chris whose head was tilted skyward, eyes closed.
He didn't open them. "I know."
I watched him silently, the sun's rays centered across his fair skin. Pink flushed the apples of his cheeks.
You could tell he was the baby of the family. His nonchalant, it'll-happen-when-it-happens behavior was something only the youngest sibling could attain. Not to mention he looked so boyish compared to Matt and Nick. Chris's face was just as structured and cut as his brothers', but there was something missing. He didn't seem nearly as restrained as Matt or as in control as Nick. He didn't need to be so put together.
But it made me wonder whether or not the flippant personality he led with was really his or one he felt he needed to fill.
Gurgling came from my belly and I slapped a hand over it. Chris opened one eye, rolling is head to the side. "Someone's hungry."
"I don't even remember the last time we ate," I said, rubbing my stomach. More noises came from it. "Do we have anything for breakfast?"
He sat up, running his hands through his hair. "Mm, unless you want Cheez-its - which knowing Nick there probably aren't any more - I don't think so. We could go into town though. There's a little breakfast joint that I love up here and they do pastries, coffee, the whole thing."
I looked up from my babbling belly and nodded. "Let's do that. I just need to change quickly."
We both rose from our spots on the patio and headed towards the sliding glass doors. Other than the light seeping in behind us and through the kitchen blinds, the cabin was dark and still. I ducked my head into the sunroom to find Matt in the same position I'd left him in an hour ago.
Chris let me change in the bathroom while he got dressed in the room. When I flipped the lights on, I finally got a glimpse of how I looked all morning. Good God. Flecks of mascara rimmed the under part of my eyes, my lips were chapped, and my waves were so frizzy I looked like Princess Mia in her 'before' photo.
I splashed cold water onto my face, running my fingers over the leftover mascara until it washed away, then raked my damp fingers through my hair. The weather was expected to stay in the mid-sixties today, so I slipped on an off the shoulder beige knit sweater and pulled on a pair of light wash mom jeans. My hair wasn't cooperating no matter how much water I put in it, so I gathered pieces away from my face and pulled it into a tight, high-ponytail, braiding the length. Dabbing at the purple circles beneath my eyes with concealer, I decided I didn't need anything else to look alive.
When I came out into the living room, Chris was sitting on the couch wearing a burnt orange pull over that had a deer plastered across the front and cream cargo pants. His bed head had been tamed beneath a black snapback.
He looked up from his phone. "Ready?"
"Yeah." I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder, walking towards the door.
"I forgot to mention that you have to drive," he said, pulling Matt's keys off a hook beside the front door. My brows furrowed. "It's your car?"
He looked at me like he couldn't tell if I was serious or not, so he said, "Oh, you really don't know? I don't have a license. Why do you think Matt's always in the driver's seat?"
I assumed he liked to be in control of his situation or straight up didn't trust his brothers to not total the vehicle, but this made a lot more sense.
"First I find out you can't cook and now you tell me you can't drive? You're really fueling the whole "rich kid" narrative in my head." My ponytail swayed as I shook my head, snagging the keys out of Chris's hand and heading towards the car.
"Hey!" He called, closing the door behind him. "It's not my fault Matt insists on driving everywhere anyways. Why would I give up my passenger princess title for no reason?" He batted his lashes coyly.
I scoffed. "Get in."
We drove down the path, admiring the other cabins in the daylight. Most were bigger than the boys' with at least double the land. A few were situated on stilts, their decks overlooking a stone patio and firepit.
"Almost all of these have been turned into AirBnBs," Chris said displeased. "When we were kids, dozens of families spent their summers and holidays here. All of us kids would play together or come down to the park for the Fourth of July and watch fireworks. But, by the time we reached high school, we were the only ones who came back. I guess renting the cabins for a secondary source of income made more sense to them than celebrating tradition."
He sounded devastated watching the houses blur between the trees. I pictured him seeing himself as a little boy, running after Nick and Matt, some neighborhood kids, laughing and crying out in amusement. A montage of a life he no longer existed in.
I smiled sadly at him, but he was still staring out the window.
"Maybe some day you'll have that little girl or boy you mentioned and you can bring them back here to create the same memories you did." I was trying to lighten the mood. Between the both of us, there was too much homesickness it was beginning to feel like we were one childhood memory away from turning into a puddle of grief.
The smile didn't reach his eyes. "I hope so."
The nosiness inside me wanted to ask why they chose to stay in L.A., or in the public eye for that matter, if they missed their old lives so much it hurt. But, I had a feeling Chris's answer would've been the same as Matt's that day we shelved books in Next Chapter. For him, it was about being able to provide for the rest of his family. Buy his dad a new truck, give his mom the financial support she needed to make repairs to their house. They saw it as their responsibility, whereas I would've seen it as a burden. Maybe that was because in my head no twenty year old should carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, but then again, wasn't that what I'd been doing this whole time? The only difference was that they wanted to do it, it gave them a sense of purpose. I didn't have a choice.
Downtown Morin Hill wasn't too far off from Woodbury. Historical buildings were scattered around the town's square, enveloped by antique shops and local restaurants. The only major difference was that there was a ginormous monument dab smack in the middle of the square. As we drove past, I could make out the American flag flying overhead and a huge stone plaque that read "Henry Morin Memorial."
"Who's that guy?" I asked, pointing my chin towards the statue.
"That would be Henry Morin, one of the leaders of some revolutionary party way back. He played a big role in getting Vermont to be a state. They named the town after him, too." Chris was leaning forward in the passenger seat, peering up at the stone sculpture. "I had to do a history project on him in the fifth grade. Mom said he'd be a good pick since we spent so much time up here. I spent nearly three weeks at the library after school reading everything I could find on him."
"You? Reading? Did pigs start flying, too?" I teased.
"What can I say? I'm full of surprises." He wiggled his eyebrows at me. "That also may or may not have been the last time I picked up a book."
I threw my head back, laughing. "That's the Chris I know."
He smiled widely before pointing towards a lot to pull into. Cars were scattered along the blacktop, herds of people moved in and out of the building nearby.
"The Nest looks packed," Chris said climbing out of the car.
The Nest wasn't a small hole in the wall cafe like I'd anticipated. It was a freshly painted white building, front facing the street with big bay windows and a small black iron wrought fence barricading in a patio. Matching black and white striped overhangs stuck out from above the entrance, shading the line of customers waiting to order.
"I thought you said this was a 'little breakfast joint?'" My eyes ping ponged from the cafe to Chris.
"It is!" he defended. "They've livened it up a little over the last couple of years, but as far as I know it's the same owners. Don't knock it till you try it." He ushered over his shoulder for me to follow.
The whole street smelt of fresh bread and espresso. A glass display case was positioned in one of the street-facing windows and was packed full with raspberry cheese danishes, chocolate croissants, various quiche and so much more.
My stomach grumbled just looking at it. "This place looks amazing," I said, squinting through the glass at one of the danishes.
"You have to try the cinnamon rolls," Chris tapped on the glass. "They're one of my favorite things in the world."
They did look pretty spectacular. Twice the size of a normal cinnamon bun, these were fluffy and glazed to perfection.
"Excuse me?" a lilty voice said from over our shoulders.
We turned around to find a group of three girls, wide-eyed and looked a little like they were about to pass out.
"Hi, are you Chris Sturniolo?" the petite blonde asked. She had round blue eyes, a shade darker than Chris's, and a soft voice that sounded like melting chocolate.
Chris stood straighter, his charm switching into overdrive. "I am." He smiled at her, causing a blush to rise up her neck.
I smiled politely, as the two girls behind her tried to hide their squeals. The blonde introduced herself as Macy and spent the next five minutes fawning over Chris and telling him how much she adored their videos.
"I always promised myself that if I ever met you, I'd have to shoot my shot," she said fluttering her lashes. "Here's my number." She slipped a scrap of paper out of her purse and scribbled numbers on it before tucking it into Chris's front pocket. His eyes went wide.
Macy and her friends giggled, eyeing me from top to bottom. Their gazes were impassive, but I knew they were sizing me up, unsure as to who I was and why I was here with Chris.
"Oh - uhm, thank you," Chris stuttered. His composure faltering for a change. I stared up at him.
"It was really nice to meet you, Macy," Chris said. "And you guys, too." He smiled over her shoulder at the others.
"But, we're going to go get our breakfast." He gestured to the line that had moved up a few feet.
Macy bit her bottom lip. "Yeah, of course. Enjoy your breakfast. Maybe I'll see you around." She trailed her sapphire eyes over him one last time before turning and sauntering down the busy street with her posse.
I watched her in awe far longer than I should have.
"Hello? Earth to Nat," Chris said, waving his hand in front of my face. "Do you want her number?" He laughed.
I wrinkled my nose at him. "Did that just happen? Like actually? Or was that some weird hunger induced hallucination?"
He draped an arm around my shoulders. "You hallucinate about me? I'm flattered."
I hit his chest with the back of my hand. "You wish."
He looked down at me, his face taunting. "No, but I know who does."
The words were charged, baiting me. I swallowed. All of the knowing in his irises made me nervous.
He leaned down and whispered lowly in my ear. "What do you want?"
"I-" I couldn't find an answer. My throat went dry. I looked back up at him, a smirk playing across his lips. He nodded towards the counter where a teenage boy was waiting to take our order.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to everyone who has been reading! It means the world! I tried to make this chapter a little longer since I won't be able to get the next one up for about a week (I'm getting my wisdom teeth out tomorrow, EEK!) But leave me a comment to come back to <3 xoxo