“Oh, I get it.” Amusement covers the words. “I bet you want to go to school out of the country. After all, you’re Darcie Abernathy.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You know, you’re Brunswick’s little traveler. I’m pretty sure you’ve visited more countries than most adults in town.”
Ah.
Kevin’s talking about my early childhood, before Dad and I settled in Brunswick.
Dad and I traveled all over Europe during his post-doc. I think he would’ve been content to live that nomadic lifestyle, but then he realized he couldn’t supervise my education forever. So Dad got a job at St. Phillip’s, we moved to Maine, and I enrolled in school for the first time.
Being the new kid in a small town was tough, especially since I was more bookish than your average second grader. Thank God for Kayla and her friendship; she kept the worst of the teasing at bay.
For a while, though, I wished I had a normal upbringing. That I’d grown up in Brunswick with the rest of my classmates. I didn’t like being different. Memories of those days make me bristle, sinking my mood.
It's the only reason I can think of for the petty remark that slips out next. “I’m hardly little.”
“No.” Kevin’s voice catches. “You aren’t little.”
I lower my arms and turn to him with wide eyes. Now, it’s his turn to avoid my gaze.
Was that… a compliment?
The butterflies that had taken a breather flutter with new ferocity.
Get a grip, Darcie. Acknowledging someone is no longer a child isn’t a compliment.
My harsh inner voice effectively pins those butterflies' wings closed.
The rest of the walk to Brick Cottage passes in silence. A gust of wind blows a strand of hair across my face when we reach the front doors. I brush it away, then reach for the door.
Before my fingers can touch the handle, Kevin captures my hand.
My heart flips, and a rush of warmth floods me as I turn to face Kevin, no doubt with rosy red cheeks. “Kevin?”
“I have a question.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Okay?”
“What happened this morning?” His eyes search mine. “That guy—Thane? He said he hoped you’d feel better after this morning. What happened?”
I wince, the memory of my father’s stubbornness creeping back into focus, the frustration overshadowing the thrill coursing through me from the fact Kevin is holding my hand.
“Oh. That.” I shrug, trying to mask the emotion in my voice. “It’s nothing. Just… something with my dad.”
Before Kevin can respond, a knock on the window beside us startles me. We both turn to see Kayla inside, tapping her phone against the glass. She glances at us, then gestures meaningfully at the screen, her eyes flicking pointedly to the time.
I glance at my watch. It’s 10:32. We’re officially late.
Kevin frowns at his sister. “Relax,” he calls through the window.
Kayla sticks out her tongue.
“Very mature.” He scowls.
She rolls her eyes and taps her phone again. This time, her eyes flick between me and Kevin’s still-intertwined hands.
Embarrassment floods me, and I choke out an awkward laugh. “I think Kayla is mad we’re late.”