Page 16 of The Rest is History
Still, my heart bangs inside my chest, like it did the first time Reece tipped his chin up to look at me in the barn outside his grandmother’s farm. We were grounded because we let the chickens out too early. We forgot that we needed to clean out the chicken coop the day before. Grandma Carter took away Reece’s PlayStation and put us on cleaning duty.
We stood in the middle of the barn, dirty and hot from the labor. I watched his lips part. Listened to his short, soft gasps, realizing that everything was changing inside that one second.
I didn’t hesitate. I kissed him. I knew he wanted me to kiss him, and I always gave Reece whatever he wanted. Until I couldn’t.
He kissed me back. His first kiss, and mine.
We knew it was meant to be because there was no awkwardness afterward. The opposite, in fact. Reece and I were always meant to be together. We fell in love, and we fell into each other, and there was nothing more about it to dissect or understand.
Now, my breath is stuck inside my chest as Reece exits the car. I try to loosen my chest with a sharp exhale.
He looks exactly the same and not at all the way I remember him at the same time. He stands on the edge of our small property, his face turned to the front porch of the house. The Uber driver helps him with his suitcase.
He inhales. I inhale with him. He exhales. I exhale with him. He takes his first step up the walkway. I step toward the front door, hardly able to tear my eyes away from the window.
At the door, I send Sawyer a text: He’s here.
Sawyer: I love you.
I put my phone away. Lay my forehead against the cool wood. The ring of the doorbell is shattering. Three deep breaths.
I turn the knob.
Chapter 8
Asher
I told myself countless times that it would be like seeing an old friend again. That’s all. An old friend. But now, it’s like it was all for nothing. I don’t know how I’ll cope with this.
Reece lifts his eyes to mine. He needs to look up three inches. The tilt of his face always made me feel protective of him. I wanted to always be the one to keep him from whatever tried to hurt him.
His forehead creases in a frown and his mouth opens. Nothing comes out. Between us there had been no secrets. We kept plenty of secrets, yes. But not between us. Now, as if a thousand miles and eleven years never existed between us, he looks up at me like I can fix whatever has broken in his life these last several years.
“Asher.” His voice is a croak, a shadow of the loud, free boy he’d been when it was just the two of us.
I gather air into my lungs, pulling in deeply to steady my heart. “Hello, Reece.”
Another attempt to calm the thump thump thump inside my chest. Easy, Asher. Nothing has changed between now and ninety seconds ago. “Come in,” I say with a strong, confident voice.
I step aside, and Reece Carter steps back into my life.
Now that he’s here, I realize it should’ve felt more epic. A happy reunion. A hug, maybe. Because we really are old friends seeing each other again after a long time.
And if not that, then maybe there should’ve been more anger. He’s a Carter, after all, and I owe it to my parents to refuse to have anything to do with any of them.
But . . . this is Reece. My mother’s favorite, and all there is, is a suffocating yearning for an innocence we will never again have.
Inside, he stares at the wooden floor, clutching his suitcase close to his body. His dark brown hair curls over his forehead. It’s not as long as he used to keep it but still long enough to notice how curly his hair can get when left to grow out. He still wears a diamond earring in one ear.
Remnants of youth remain strongly on his face. Soft pink lips. Deep brown eyes – sometimes almost black under the right lighting – that dip downward at the outer corners. The feature gave him a permanent sad-boy look, dispelled only when his eyes sparkled with happiness and his cheeks lifted with his smile. His soft features have sharpened over the years. His jaw, more pronounced. His high cheekbones are more defined. His nose, straight and perfect. His flawless tan skin, thanks to his mother’s genes, should be illegal, I always told him.
He’s filled out too. Broader. Slightly heavier. Lightly muscled, from what I can make out through the jeans and black jersey he's wearing.
Well. I’m the host. I’d better start acting like one. “May I take your luggage? I can leave it in the hall.”
Reece clears his throat. His unwillingness to look at me is obvious, but he tries. “Yes, thank you.”
The awkwardness is unavoidable, even though I’ve prepared for it. But now that the initial shock is over, I can use my brain more rationally. We’re not seventeen anymore. Despite the discomfort, I need to behave like an adult.
