“Give it up, sis, or I tell Sebastian the fish food story.”
“You wouldn’t!” I cried indignantly.
“Oh, I would,” he promised, a gleeful grin spreading across his face.
“I want to hear the fish food story,” Sebastian chimed in.
“Fine, you devil,” I said to Jamie, unzipping my backpack and handing over three Cadbury chocolate bars. “Not awordabout fish food, or that will be the last candy you get from the outside world.”
“Like you’re my only source,” he snorted, making light of my threat. But I knew he’d keep his mouth shut. Jamie might tease me, he might do his best to drive me up the wall with his antics and practical jokes, but he’d never do something that wouldgenuinely hurt me.
“Chocolate?” he offered around a mouthful of candy, extending the half-wrapped bar in Sebastian’s direction.
“Nah, I’m good,” Bash replied, dragging one of the stiff-backed wooden chairs away from the wall and positioning it next to Jamie’s bed. He promptly flopped down in it, turned to my twin, and struck up a conversation about the Bulldogs’ postseason performance. Jamie’s eyes lit up instantly — it’d been a long time since someone talked football with him.
While Jamie was afull-fledged Auburn-hating, UGA-loving “dawg,” I shunned my Georgian roots with my total lack of interest in our state sports teams. Once terms like NCAA and SEC started floating around, I was more liable to nod off than join in the conversation — not exactly an ideal chatting partner when it came to discussing the Deep South’s Oldest Rivalry.
All things considered, it was pretty remarkable we’d shared a womb for nine months.
Within minutes, as was inevitable whenever boys talked football, a heated debate had broken out concerning next season’s new recruits. Sebastian was confident they’d have the sheer talent to take us all the way through the bowl games with certain victory, while Jamie contended that their inexperience would make for an uncoordinated, unsuccessful performance on the field.
I looked atthe two of them, sensing already that this budding friendship did not bode well for me. Leaning back against the wall, I let my eyes drift closed and released an extended, unladylike snore loud enough that both their heads snapped in my direction and their conversation instantly came to a halt.
“Sorry,” I said, lifting my hand to cover the large faux yawn splitting my face. “Fell asleep for a minute there.”
“Cute,” Bash commented, grinning across the room at me and throwing in a wink for good measure. I fought off a blush, but couldn’t stop my answering smile.
“Dude, that’s my sister,” Jamie complained. “You seem like a good guy, and you hate the Crimson Tide almost as much as I do…but boundaries, my friend.Boundaries.”
“Jamie,” I protested, feeling my cheeks heat.
“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” Sebastian laughed, turning back to Jamie. “How about I get us into my father’s private box next season for a game? Will all be forgiven?”
“Dude,” Jamie said, eyes wide. “You make it a championship game, you can call my sister whatever you want. Seriously.Whateveryou want.”
“Standingrighthere,” I noted, glaring at my traitorous twin. “I can hear you, you know.”
“I know, sis,” Jamie said, laughing lightly when he caught sight of my expression. “But we’re talking box seats. Prime real estate. You know I love you, but…don’t make me choose between you and football.” He grimaced at the thought.
“Listen to the man, Lux. That’s a realSophie’s Choiceyou’re giving him,” Sebastian added, shaking his head in feigned sadness.
“I hate you both,” I told them, trying very hard not to smile at their teasing.
In actuality, I was thrilled.
Jamie hadn’t looked this happy in a long, long time. I knew a big part of that was due to Sebastian’s presence. Jamie always perked up when he had visitors other than his lame, boring sister, as he so affectionately referred to me. His spirits were high, there was a healthy dose of color in his cheeks, and for a minute I let myself be overtaken by dangerous hopes.
Hopes that he’d recover fully.
Hopes that this latest surgery would also be his last.
Hopes that he’d walk again.
Hopes that he’d be well enough to enjoy those box seats next season with Sebastian.
And, finally, hopes that there’d be more afternoons like this one. That Bash wouldn’t stop visiting. That he’d continue to use that inner light he carried around to ward off the shadows clinging to my life. Because I was pretty sure that Jamie liked him.
And I knew for certain that I did.