Page 31 of Playing For Keeps

Farren’s dad came up from the basement at the ruckus, his face folding into jolly wrinkles when he smiled at her and wrapped her up in a hug that smelled like sawdust and woodsmoke. He must have been loading up the stove downstairs. The New Hampshire air was much cooler than D.C., especially without the press of people and the urban heat island effect to help it.

“How long are you staying, Bug?” he asked, the nickname another one from her childhood, though this was far preferred. Jerry used to call her cuddle-bug because she hated getting up in the mornings as a young child, and he’d have to carry her downstairs to breakfast.

“Not sure yet, Dad. As long as you all need me.” It was insufficient. Especially when she knew they didn’t, in fact, need her.

“Well, the shower’s on Sunday, so best stay ‘til then or your mother will lump some of that good-ol’ Catholic guilt your way.” He said it with a slight eye roll, bumping his shoulder against hers in camaraderie, and her heart ached with how much she’d missed them without realizing.

As the years passed and she visited them less and less, she found when she came home, it was accompanied by a twinge inside that wouldn’t let up. So many years she’d been swallowed by the crowd. It didn’t occur to her that as they all left home, the sound of kids disappearing, her parents might actually notice the quiet where she used to be.

She settled into her old bedroom, the pink walls muted by age, the bedspread on the twin bed the same one she’d left behind all those years ago. Her mother had at least thought to take down her embarrassing posters and box up her knickknacks into clear totes lining the inside of the closet.

The weekend passed how she’d expected, her siblings stopping by when they pleased without much fanfare or notice. They hugged her tightly, told her they’d missed her. As they all gathered in the basement—the largest room that could barely hold them when they were kids, let alone now that they had kids of their own—Farren got to meet some of her new nieces and nephews, the echoes of the faces she remembered from her youth.

“Hey, Chase, your kid’s got your nose,” she told her older brother, tickling the aforementioned gremlin as the kid tried to escape her clutches to race around the room again.

“Hate to break it to you, Farren. But we all have that freaking nose.”

The room erupted into laughter, Farren’s own tummy shaking with the chuckle, a freeing feeling being around people she didn’t have to pretend in front of.

Then Lindsay came down the stairs with one hand poised over her belly, a nasty looking cut across her eyebrow and a black eye to match. Farren found all the animosity she’d carried toward her sister... All the jealousy she’d felt at the fact that Lindsay was thinner, prettier, got more attention from her parents and the teachers at school… It faded away into concern and a deep, dark dread sank in her chest at realizing she’d spent so much time angry at someone who hadn’t done anything to hurt her. Someone she loved very much. Someone she’d almost lost.

Just for a moment, Farren was frozen, realizing everything she held onto was juvenile. The tar that stuck to her feet and made her want to do nothing but run was her own self-doubt and baggage. They did love her in their own way. But she was caught up in years-old hurt she’d done nothing to mend. It wasn’t to say her pain wasn’t valid or the life she’d known growing up was perfect, but in this moment—this moment they almost hadn’t gotten the chance to have—it faded away for the time being.

She stood up on shaky legs, eyes blurred with unshed tears, and walked over to her sister, wrapping her up in a huge hug, careful not to squeeze too hard. When Lindsay wrapped her arms around Farren and she heard her sister sniff, all the tears welling in Farren’s eyes trailed down her cheeks with a sob. They stood, slightly swaying, crying and laughing, and something in Farren’s chest seemed to settle for a while.

A wild, caged thing she’d been neglecting for years, calm.

Who are you and what have you done with Sebastian Clark? His mind mocked him when he woke up that morning, twisted in Farren’s watercolor bedspread and reaching for the spot where she’d been only hours before. His chest was strangely tight; not an unusual feeling for him physically, but the “why” of it all was so different. Sebastian missed her, wanted to wake up beside her and pull her closer, relishing the half an hour after waking where everything was fuzzy and soft.

He had no idea what he was going to do to fill his time without her. He’d worked late the night before and had very little to see to over the weekend. She’d left a note for him on the bedside table. Sebastian pored over the words, the sloping surety of her handwriting, etched bold and deep on the page.

Sebastian traced his thumb over the last line, a hefty breath shaking out of his chest. This woman would be the death of him, he was sure. How she’d managed to worm her way so deep under his skin in such a short span of time was nothing short of incredible.

He checked his phone next, pleased she’d texted him to let him know she got there safely.

He responded with a selfie in her bed, trying not to feel embarrassed or weird about it. Wanting nothing more than to make her smile at how ridiculous he looked with his pillow hair and sleep still crusting the corners of his eyes. Sebastian finished it up with a message letting her know that just like her couch, her bed was far superior to the one waiting for him back at his apartment.

It was ages before she responded again. Sebastian slogged back over to his place to change and then finally took the time to go for a jog along the Mall. It was awe-inspiring. The scope of it was insane. Every building had something unique he couldn’t wait to explore one day. There was no way he’d be able to run multiple loops around the whole thing without busting a lung. He made it from the Capitol building down to the WWII Memorial and back before taking time to sit in the grass somewhere between a couple of art museums and sink his hands into it. He’d almost convinced himself he wasn’t waiting for her response when it finally came.

Well, maybe if it’s so much comfier, you should spend some more time in it ??

God, this woman…

He leaned back onto the grass and stared up at the sky, blue interspersed with fluffy white clouds. Although the air held a chill, it helped him focus, especially when he was thinking about all the things he’d like to do to her in that bed.

Farren had a way of reaching into his torso and rearranging his insides. She left him off-balance, aching for more of her. Dangerous. Farren was fucking dangerous. It wouldn’t do to dwell on thoughts of her, it would only get him into more trouble.

After his sweat cooled and his heart returned to its normal tempo, he ended up at the coffee shop for a bit before slinking back home, moping at the lack of her wherever he went.

How did he pass his time before? How had he kept himself sane in the absence of her?

That feeling carried over into the week, and he knew, he knew it was bad. Sebastian found himself checking his phone so much more often, distracted by her. She hadn’t told him when she’d be back, but an idea bloomed at the back of his mind. A gift of sorts, something he could give her when she got back… or possibly later depending on how long it would take to organize and ship. By the end of the week, he was prickling with the urge to make it a reality.

Unfortunately, the people he could think of to help him weren’t ones he was close with. He didn’t want to piss Farren off by overstepping. Sebastian himself was peeved at Corinne given how she’d lashed out at Farren. And Farren, every kind and caring inch of her, excused her friend’s behavior by explaining how difficult things were at home at the moment.

Sure, understandable, whatever. But still not okay. Not okay to rip into your best friend and not apologize. Sebastian waited on tenterhooks to hear how things were going with her family. From the bits she’d told him, he gathered she wasn’t the closest with them. They’d done a number on her, same way his parents had to him, although maybe his were not as bad. She probably wouldn’t say anything while she was still there. Sebastian would have to wait until she came back—if she came back—for her to tell him whether or not he had to make a very angry phone call to people he’d never met, who probably didn’t even know who the hell he was. So, he searched for a diversion.

Sebastian sat at his desk during the weekday, his chair squeaking every time he rotated it slightly, bored out of his mind. The research for the pitch was complete, he’d written up his proposal, and all he could do now was wait. Best to fill the time with something productive because staring at the stupid gray walls was too dull to handle. He pulled up the site with Farren’s gift and worked on that instead.

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