Famous in a Small Town(60)

I thought about the drive home from the party. I could hear Brit’s voice, talking to August as she drove. Telling him about Ciara.

I looked into the back seat now and wondered if there was any chance that August was awake. That he could hear what Kyle was saying.

But August’s face was relaxed in sleep.

“You should tell him,” I said, and then shook my head, because I could say it better: “I know you don’t owe me anything, but will you tell him? Please?”

“We owe you a lot, Soph,” Kyle replied. “And yeah. I will.”



* * *



The house was all lit up when we arrived, the front door open so we could see a rectangle of living room through the storm door, Heather moving inside.

Flora burst out of her house when we pulled into the Conlins’ driveway, Brit close behind.

Heather came out too, holding Harper, who was crying. Cady followed, standing on the front stoop, despite Heather’s instructions to stay inside.

Flora ran and hugged me, and Brit hovered behind, her arms folded, her mouth in a tense line.

“Is he okay?”

Kyle opened the car door and gently shook August’s shoulder.

“Buddy?”

August blinked blearily.

“Hey, we’re home.”

He nodded. “Where’s Soph?”

“Here,” I said, my voice sticking in my throat.

Kyle and Brit helped him out of the car and into the house, navigating into the living room and settling August on the couch.

“No one would go to bed,” Heather told me, bouncing Harper up and down while she wailed. “Everyone wanted to see Uncle August and no one wanted to sleep.”

Cadence’s face was full of worry. She stood at Heather’s side, clutching a sheaf of construction paper. “We drew you pictures,” she said, when August was situated.

“Thanks, Cady.” He took them with a lopsided smile, laid them on his lap, and leafed through them one-handed. “These are great.”

“I think it’s way past bedtime,” Heather said, shifting Harper around.

“Will you read to me?” Cadence asked August.

“I will,” I said, holding out a hand toward her. “August needs to go to bed too.”

Cadence looked up at me, brown eyes big and tired.

“Come on.” I wiggled my fingers. “We can read a chapter of Pooh.”

She nodded, took my hand, and we went inside. She settled against me, and it was only a couple of pages before she fell asleep.

Heather came in with Harper, now sleeping too, and laid her down in her crib.

Brit and Flora were gone when we emerged. August was asleep on the couch, his brow smooth, his mouth parted slightly. All the worry was smoothed from his brow. He looked like a fairy-tale prince you could awaken with a kiss, breaking some centuries-old spell. My fingers itched to smooth his hair back.

I didn’t. Just stood in the doorway for a moment, before Heather came up and drew me into a long hug.

“Thank you,” she said, slightly muffled. “I thought Cady would never sleep.” She gave me a squeeze and then pulled away. “Also, thanks for the other thing.” She looked at August. “The main thing.”

I smiled a little. “No problem.”





forty-nine


We all went to the Conlins’, late the next afternoon. I wasn’t sure how up for hanging out August would be, but he had texted: Everyone should come over, so we all went.

August thanked us for saving his life. Dash shifted back and forth, looking uncomfortable, but Terrance smiled dazzlingly.

“Anytime. My pleasure. Always here for a lifesaving moment.”

“You didn’t even do anything!” Brit said.

“Don’t underestimate moral support,” he answered loftily.

“I mean it,” August said, meeting my eyes. “I’d probably still be down there. If it weren’t for you.”

I glanced away. “Brit was the one who said to look there.”

“No, I wasn’t,” she replied. “Why would I want to save him? Dash’s car only seats five.”

“Thank you. Seriously,” August said.

Brit looked flustered by the sincerity. “Yeah, okay, no big deal. You don’t have to throw a parade or anything.”

“You do,” Terrance said. “And I expect to be grand marshal.”

Eventually, we ended up sitting in the backyard, watching Dash and Brit throw a ball for Shepherd.

“I always wanted a dog,” Flora said as Shepherd bound happily back to them, the tennis ball in his jaws. “I asked my parents for one when I was little, but they got me a stuffed one instead.”

“Stuffed like plush or stuffed like taxidermy?” August asked, and Terrance snorted.

“How amazing would that be? Hey, little Flora, Merry Christmas, here’s a dog corpse that we preserved for you. Enjoy!”

“You’d never have to walk it,” I offered.

“Stuffed like plush,” Flora said. “Obviously.”

“I had a stuffed dog when I was little too,” August said. “It was my favorite.”

“What was its name?”

“I don’t remember.”