Page 19 of Forever Never
To Brick’s amazement, the stubborn Pop gave a shuddery chuckle. The man had never once laughed in his presence.
“Okay, maybe he doesn’t fit in quite as well as Brick does. But his grades are up.”
The old man nodded once.
“I tell you what,” she said. “If you eat the rest of that mac and cheese, I promise I’ll spill something really bad on those pink shorts the next chance I get.”
Brick watched as Pop raised his trembling right hand and managed a shaky thumbs-up.
“It’s a deal. Let me just warm this up a little bit for you so you don’t have to eat cold mac.”
Remi snuck another scoop from the pot on the stove into the bowl on her way to the microwave.
Her head lifted, and her eyes found him in the doorway. “Well, hey there, Brick. How were the horses today?”
Busted.
He pried off his other boot, dropped his cowboy hat on the bench outside and warily stepped into the kitchen. “Fine,” he said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“You want some mac and cheese? We made a whole pot of it,” she said brightly.
He eyed his grandfather, looking for a reaction. Pop reached for the paper and dragged the marker over it in a familiar pattern.
Brick stared down at the large hash mark, and Pop pointed to the chair Remi had vacated.
An unexpected invitation. Unsure, he glanced over at Remi, who flashed him a wink.
“I should shower first,” he hedged, hand on the back of the chair. He’d been under the impression his grandfather hated the idea of his dirty grandsons on his antique furniture.
“Quality time doesn’t require soap. Hang out with us now, shower later. Besides, I kinda like the smell of horses. Don’t you, Pop?”
Pop didn’t answer. Instead, he drew a crooked X in the top right of the hash mark and then slowly, painfully nudged the paper toward him.
Brick’s throat tightened. There were a lot of reasons in the moment. The ravages that time and age took. The unexpected invitation. The absolution of a father’s sins. The acknowledgment of how fucking hard he’d worked to give Spencer as much normal as he could.
The girl with the wild red hair lighting up the room and making it all possible.
His toes curled in his socks, gripping the floor, but he did as he was told and sat.
Just as he carefully drew his first O, Remi leaned over and placed a bowl of neon yellow noodles in front of him. She smelled like sunscreen and summer, and he knew he’d never forget the scent. Or the memory she’d made for him there that day.
He and Pop were in the middle of their third game when Spencer burst into the kitchen in a V for Vendetta t-shirt and the infamous, god-awful pink shorts. His hair was getting lighter thanks to the island sun. Mackinac seemed to agree with him, to Brick’s relief.
“I caught thebiggestfreaking fish today!” he announced.
Remi whirled around from the open refrigerator with a squeeze bottle of ketchup. An arc of tomato red noisily squirted out, raining down on his brother’s shorts.
“Oh, man! My shorts!” Spencer whined, looking down at the damage.
“I’m so sorry! I was just going to have Pop try mac and cheese with ketchup, and the next thing I know, it’s raining condiments!” she said, all wide-eyed and apologetic.
“Who eats mac and cheese with ketchup? These are my favorite shorts!” Spencer moaned.
Brick got the wash rag out of the sink and started to clean the excess ketchup from the cabinets and floor. Pop let out another wheezy chuckle that he covered with a cough. Remi earned another trembling thumbs-up as Spencer bemoaned his wardrobe’s fate.
“I feelawful,” Remi said with theatrical horror. “Run on upstairs and take them off. I think with ketchup stains you’re supposed to let them set for a few hours before washing it out. Right, Pop?”
Pop gave one enthusiastic nod, the corner of his mouth still lifted.
