Chapter One
Sean,
I’ve stared at this blank page for an hour, wondering how to express what I need to say in a way that will make sense to you. With everything I know now, I’m not even sure these letters will mean anything to you. Who knows? Maybe I just need to write them for myself to make sense of everything, to purge the past and start over.
Leia asked me today how a person can love two people at the same time.
In the moment, I had no answer. Memories flooded my mind as I turned the question over and over.
The only answer I could come up with is that love comes in different shapes and sizes and colors. Sometimes it’s bright and shiny and hits you in the face with its presence. Other times the colors are muted and seep into each other, living on for a lifetime.
To start, I have to go way back to when I had just moved to Willowbrook. My dad had gotten a new job, and I wasn’t happy about moving in the middle of the school year. Thankfully, Poppy Ellis befriended me on day one, claiming me as her best friend.
I was thirteen years old, and summer was in full effect. School had ended, and I was at Poppy’s house for a sleepover. Her mom had made us Rice Krispies Treats, and we were laughing, bantering about which candy was better—Hershey’s Kisses or the pink Starbursts—when the back screen door creaked open.
And there he was. Bennett Owens, Poppy’s cousin.
I didn’t have any classes with him, but I knew who he was. Everyone knew the kids who lived on Plain Daisy Ranch. The Noughtons, as everyone referred to them—even though six of them had different last names. It was the family ranch name that stuck.
He was smart, reserved, and popular. Whether it was because he grew up in Willowbrook or the fact that his family was seen by the small town as royalty, I don’t know. All the girls would giggle and flirt with him, and he was always surrounded by a group of guys.
“The pink Starbursts are the best,” Poppy said.
“Please, nothing melts in your mouth like a kiss,” I countered.
Bennett’s dark eyes flicked toward me, but the moment was over before it began. He circled back around right away.
“Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.” Poppy shook her head.
“Hey, Aunt Bette.” He headed over to her, swung his arm around her shoulders, and kissed her cheek. “Mom said you wanted some jars.” He set two mason jars on the counter.
“The girls are going to catch fireflies. Want to join?”
He glanced over his shoulder, and his gaze met mine. I pretended not to care, and Poppy grabbed another Rice Krispies square, looking as if she didn’t care what his answer would be.
“Nah, I’ve got plans.”
My cheeks flamed. Although we were the same age, I felt years younger than him and a world away from whatever thrilling plans he had. He was probably going to a party to make out with someone. The popular kids had parties while Poppy and I were going to catch bugs.
“Then see ya.” Poppy’s chair legs scratched against the floor.
Bennett left without another glance, which shouldn’t have surprised me. I figured he didn’t even know my name.
But later that night, while the sunset painted the sky tangerine as we were trying to catch fireflies, he walked back into Poppy’s yard. Poppy was on the other side of the yard, hell-bent on catching one particular firefly that she said was playing games.
“They need air.” He came over and handed me a different mason jar. “And I put a wet paper towel at the bottom for moisture, so they don’t dry out. Let them go after a day or two. Don’t keep them captive just because they’re pretty.” Then he walked back over the hill, disappearing from view as if I’d imagined him.
Just like that, something shifted. It wasn’t a thunder crack or big bright fireworks but rather a quiet click into place. I started noticing Bennett in the hallways when we went back to school. My eyes sought him out at lunch and whenever I was on the ranch. He didn’t notice me back though, not for a long time.
And that’s why the question stunned me silent. Sometimes the people who matter most don’t crash into your life. They slip in quietly. Like a jar of light you didn’t know you needed until you’re holding it.
So, I’ve come to the conclusion that there is room for more than one kind of love in a person’s life—each true in its own way, each teaching us something about who we are and what we’re capable of giving.
* * *
Delaney
Chapter Two
