Page 5 of Dibs
Deacon suddenly takes a baggie out of his pants pocket. “I forgot to tell you. I was going through my mother’s things,” his mother had recently passed away from brain cancer, “and I found this funky turquoise ring that screamed your name, Beck. There is a certificate of authenticity stating that it’s one of a kind. I think she got it in Sedona. Let me see that finger. Maybe it’ll fit.”
My head spins when I see the beautiful cushion-shaped turquoise ring, and I reach out my hand, all the while telling him he should keep it to remember her by. Glancing down, he slides it on, a glowing halo of onyx surrounds the center stone, and I’m stunned by its beauty. The ring looks like it was made for me, so I’m not surprised by how well it fits or how perfect it looks on my right hand. Normally, I wouldn’t accept such a pricey gift, but it’s from Deacon. If he wants me to have his mother’s ring, he’ll be insulted if I don’t accept it.
Plus, oh my god, it’s stunning. I spot silver filigree containing tiny diamonds around the entirety of the delicate band and nearly drool.
Opening and closing my mouth like a fish, I shake my head in total awe. Staring down at the ring on my finger, then back up at Deacon, I’m touched by this gift.
“Are you sure? It was your mom’s,” I whisper. My thumb rubs over the turquoise as I admire it.
“Yes. I don’t have sisters. Aunt Louise says she has fat fingers, and I know turquoise is your birthstone and favoritecolor. It was always meant to be yours. I knew it when I saw it, and Steele has no problem with it either.”
Steele stares down at it and nods. “It’s nearly as beautiful as you are, my friend.” He sets his hand on my shoulder blade and squeezes me gently. My head tilts to his shoulder as my hand hikes into the air, the diamonds glimmering in the sunlight.
Sean opens his mouth like a guppy, but instead of closing it, he just walks away without a word. Good.
Jett calls after him, “Hey, I guess if you don’t put a ring on your lady’s finger, someone else might!” Jett glances down at the ring and smiles.
“It might be the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received,” I say, squeezing Deacon’s hand tightly at my side.
Wendy and Jett share a private look that seems to exchange words, and I sigh against Steele’s shoulder.
“I love it so much, guys. Thank you doesn’t express how I feel well enough.” I can’t stop staring at the ring on my finger, nor remembering Lillian, Steele and Deacon’s mother I’d loved so much.
Jett eventually walks away, following Sean, and they seem to be exchanging intense words. I had been hoping Sean wouldn’t tell Jett we’d broken up yet, but what else could be happening? Shit. I hadn’t wanted to cause a scene on Tara’s big day.
“Of course I would give it to you, doll face. You’re my best female friend, Beck, and you have the same tiny piano-player fingers Mom had. It was a no-brainer, and there’s no need to thank me. It helps to give her favorite things to people she loved, and she loved you. I have so much more I’d like you to go through. You were also about the same size, and she was a fashionista right until the end.”
Wendy frowns. “Steele, Deac, I’m so sorry, again. Your mom was my favorite of Jett’s aunts. She always made me feel welcome on the holidays and at all the family gatherings.”Wendy and Jett had been dating for years, and we all became fast friends after the first couple of months.
“Maybe I can help determine what you should sell and what to give away,” I tell the guys, formulating a plan to help them go through Lillian’s closet. Deacon squeezes my hand and agrees, but Steele insists that I go through it first, call all my dibs, and then get the rest of the girls over to have them dive into the closet too. It’s a good plan, and they shouldn’t have to go through her things alone.
Someone whistles off in the distance, which I suppose means we’re off to take photos. Reluctantly, I walk toward the clearing where Tara and Cody stand surrounded by family and wonder how I’m going to play this one.
4
ASPYN
When it finally comes time to take photos, the day gets uncomfortable. The family insists I pose for photos with them, even though I’m already in all the bridesmaid photos, and I politely insist they take at least a few without me. I end up allowing myself to be in just a couple of them.
Tara and Sean’s mother, Cecile, looks right through me and gives me a frown. Beside me, she whispers, “I’m sorry. You’ll always be family to me.” She knows, though no one else seems to notice.
Deacon and Steele are also featured in the family photos, as they’d been honorary Wright family members since high school, when they first met Sean. Deacon’s mother had asked the boys to make themselves scarce after school while she taught piano lessons, so they’d ended up with the Wrights most days, and they’d practically adopted the brothers.
How could I think I’d get Deacon and Steele in the breakup? They had more history with the Wrights than I did. I didn’t meet them in college until after I’d met Sean, and they’d pledged the same fraternity. That’s how I met them, one night at a frat party.Sean had introduced himself to me first, back in my pink hair days.
I look down at the ring on my right index finger and breathe deeply. Would Deacon have given me this ring if he intended to side with Sean and dip out of my life without a backward glance?
Would he want me to have his mother’s things? Probably not.
Deacon stands by Sean, who’s still being his shitty self, and he rests his hand on Sean’s shoulder for the photo, providing a convincing enough smile. Still, I see the shadow on Deac’s face. He’s not happy to be in this photo either.
Finally, Deacon beckons to me for the last group photo, and he puts his arm around me as I stand between him and Steele, with Sean behind me, not daring to touch me. After a few blinding flashes, the group breaks up, but not before Cecile wraps me in her arms, whispering to me to call her in a few days.
“Let’s blow this joint,” Deacon tells me, wrapping an arm around my waist and leading me toward the little bridge over the creek behind us. Thankfully, Tara had insisted we all wear Converse to her wedding, so I’m in comfortable shoes while we carefully traverse to the center of the bridge.
Leaning over the creek, I peer into the clear water to count the fish near the surface. Some of them jump up and out of the water.
“I wish I had my fishing pole.” I reach into the pocket of my dress—yes, it has pockets—and grab a hair tie. My perfectly curled light-brown golden hair is beginning to fall flat anyway, so I quickly make a fishtail braid over my shoulder and tie it off.
