Wings Over Poppies (Over #2) (7 page)

She shakes head vigorously in disagreement, but I hold my hand up to stop her from arguing.

“Alex, I need you to hear what I’m saying. If I pull you to me right this minute, if I kiss those beautiful lips and hold you in my arms, if I let you own me completely, I won’t be strong enough to let you go.”

“You could always come with me.” She looks hopeful as she watches me intently through wet lashes.

“You know I can’t do that. It’s not who I am. I can’t leave my family, my responsibilities.”

“I don’t even know why we’re talking about New York. My parents will never let me go. As far as they’re concerned, the check was written to Tulane the moment I left the womb. It’s a done deal.”

“And you’re just going to accept that? I’ve never known you to be the type to give up. I’m sure they offered you some type of scholarship, right?” She avoids my gaze, and I bend down lower to meet her eyes. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Tuition and board,” she says reluctantly, “but can I just take off knowing they disapprove? I don’t know … I’m not sure.”

“You can, and you will. The real question is … can you live with the regret you’ll feel if you let this opportunity pass you by?”

The seconds stretch to minutes as she lets the possibilities roll through her mind.

“I don’t think I can.”

There’s a mixture of hope and mischief in her expression, and I can’t help but grin back. I instinctively grab her hands and squeeze.

“I’m doing this!” I can hear the resolve in her voice, and I couldn’t be happier for her. I swallow my selfishness and focus on the most beautiful girl, inside and out, realizing her dream.

“You’re doing this.” I laugh and nod my head.

How in the hell did we end up here? I came here today to convince Alex I’m not a douchebag and to let me back into her life. Instead, I’ve talked her into moving clear across the continent. No wonder my life is such a mess.

“Look, Alex, I don’t know what the future holds for us long term. Who knows, maybe our paths will cross again when you’re a world-renowned artist and I’m someone … else. But I hope you’ll let me be your friend right now. There’s nothing I’d rather do than spend the next few months with you. I don’t think I can take one more day of you avoiding me.”

Her sweet smile gives me my answer before she says a word.

“Of course, West. I don’t know how much longer I could have kept it up anyway. Fighting with you makes me feel off balance. When I’m away from you my thoughts are, I don’t know … scrambled? Fighting with you is bad for my imagination.” She shakes her head and giggles.

“That’s because you need to sketch this glorious body for inspiration. I told you from day one I had glory, Poppy Girl.”

“Yes, you sure did.”

Her smile is beautiful as always, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s almost reminiscent, like she’s already beginning her goodbye. I can’t think that way. I’m going to spend these months making every second count, because I know deep down this is all I’ll ever have of her.

“West?”

“Yeah?”

“I have a beautiful turquoise ring that will complement your nails nicely,” she says with a giggle.

“Now, you’ve done it, Pop.” I laugh as I drop her golf bag on the ground and take off after her at full speed.

She runs away while chancing quick looks behind her to mark my location. Her lyrical laugh … her unruly blond waves … her dancing cerulean eyes. They all mean one thing to me.

Pure. Fucking. Perfection.

“
Chasing Cars
” by Snow Patrol

“TELL ME SOMETHING I don’t know, West.” I tip my head back and meet his playful gaze. I love these quiet mornings together.

My head is resting in his lap as he leans back against our tree. The sunlight filters through the leaves and warms my legs, feeling like a blanket draped over me. West twirls a lock of my hair as he contemplates my question. I left my pad and pencils at home. I don’t feel like sketching today. I just want to be in the moment … be with him.

“The socks I’m wearing right now are dirty?” West raises a fist above me and releases his grip, raining a handful of grass down on me.

I swat the air and giggle as the blades of grass tickle my neck. “Stop it. That’s not what I mean, anyway. And, for the record, gross! Tell me something like … oh, I know! Tell me your favorite childhood memory.”

“Ah, I see. That’s going to take a bit more thought, Pop.” He chuckles and brushes his thumb softly across my cheek.

“I’m sure you can think of something.”

We fall into a comfortable silence, and my eyelids feel heavy the longer he plays with my hair. I’ve always been this way. Playing with my hair is the equivalent of singing me a lullaby.

“There’s a stocked pond in Madison, about twenty miles north of here.”

His words jolt me awake, and it takes me a moment to realize he’s answering my question.

“Oh, yeah. I think I’ve heard of it.” I’m groggy as I rub my eyes and strain to focus.

“Yeah, you pay a fee, and you get a bucket of bait and fishing poles. My mom took us once. I must have been about twelve, so Lucy was four years old.”

His dark eyes lighten slightly as he recalls the memory. His smile is gentle and reminiscent.

“We stayed all day.” He laughs softly. “The owner had to kick us out at sundown. Nothing great or spectacular happened or anything. We were just … happy. Lucy fell into a fit of laughter every time she hooked a fish. My mom sat on the wharf wearing her giant straw hat and let all the worries wash away, if only for a moment. It was a good day.”

He continues to play with my hair, but it no longer lulls me asleep. I’m wide-awake now, with a slight ache in my chest. Even as a kid, West was an adult. He sounds like a parent recalling his child’s memory. He talks about Lucy’s laughter and his mom’s happiness, but never speaks a word about himself. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never even fished—only helping Lucy with her catches.

But I let it go, because that’s who he is. He’s always worrying about everyone else, with not so much as a thought about what he wants. I wish I could give him a day like he just described. I want to wash
his
worries away. I want
him
to feel free, if only for a moment.

“Now it’s your turn. Spill it.”

“I didn’t realize this was a tit for tat kind of thing.” I toss a blade of grass at him.

He pulls my hair firmly to make me meet his eyes.

“It’s
always
a tit for tat kind of thing.” I don’t miss the not-so-hidden innuendo, and my heart skips a beat.

“Um, okay. A childhood memory … a childhood memory.”

“Stop stalling, Poppy.”

“I’m not stalling, I’m thinking!” I laugh and push his chest. “Oh, I know. Okay, so my uncle is a farmer, and he also raises cattle. He’s got chickens, emus, pigs—ya know, a full-fledged farm. Well, anyway, he used to have a pony named Sea Biscuit.”

“Hold on for a sec. Let me get this straight. There are farmers in your family?” he asks skeptically.

“Well, yeah. So?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just really hard for me to picture it.” I raise my eyebrows in question and he continues, “You know, your mom, with her pearls, tight bun, and the permanent stick lodged up her ass sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner with your uncle sporting calloused hands, overalls, and work boots. She must have sanitized and scrub brushed him at the door before she allowed him at the table.”

“Hmmm, come to think of it, Uncle Jerry never comes to the house for holidays. Okay, so maybe my dad’s brother isn’t her favorite relative. But that’s not the point.”

“There’s a point?”

“Of course, there’s a point! My favorite childhood memory, remember? So anyway, my dad used to take Emmett and me over to the farm to play. I loved it. We would chase those chickens and work them up into such a tizzy.” I snicker, thinking of those flapping wings and flying feathers. “I could catch them, but Emmett never could. I was really fast.”

“I’m very proud of you, Pop,” he says with mock seriousness.

“Shut up! You’re laughing, but I had impressive chicken catching skills. You can ask Emmett next time you see him. Anyway, Uncle Jerry would saddle up Sea Biscuit, and we’d ride him all afternoon. I freaking loved that pony. He was a deep chocolate brown with the gentlest eyes. We would feed him apples and brush him until he shined. Uncle Jerry would even let me braid his tail.”

“Sounds like a kid’s dream.”

“It definitely was. My mom was always fit to be tied because I would come home filthy. We’d head over to the farm every few weeks until I was about twelve or thirteen years old. Those visits are definitely my favorite childhood memory.”

“Why’d you stop going?”

“Hmmmm?” I ask, lost in my thoughts, his words registering slowly. “Oh, Sea Biscuit ran away.”

“Ran away?”

“Yeah, he ran away. Uncle Jerry said Sea Biscuit was a wild, wild horse and he ran away.”

“He was a wild, wild horse?”

“Yes, West, that’s what I said.”

“That ran away?”

“Yes!” I am more frustrated with each question, not understanding the point he’s trying to make.

“A wild, wild horse that ran away … that you and your brother rode all the time?”

He looks at me expectantly as I stay quiet and digest his words. Realization washes over me like a tidal wave, and my eyes go wide with surprise.

“Sea Biscuit died!” I shout in disbelief.

“Yes, Poppy, he died.” West laughs and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. His look is endearing, but I’m having none of it.

“He
died
! They lied!”

“Hey, that rhymes,” West offers unhelpfully.

“Hush, West. I can’t believe they did that to me,” I huff and cross my arms.

“You can’t believe they didn’t tell a twelve year old girl that her favorite horse died? They love you—they didn’t want to break your heart.”

“Well, my heart’s broken now! Okay, so maybe it would have been a lot worse then. My poor, sweet Sea Biscuit.” I pause for a moment, thinking how nice it would have been to have a little funeral for my favorite pony. “Do you think he’s in horsey heaven, West?”

“I’m sure of it,” he says, laughing at my silliness.

“Stop laughing, West, this is important,” I scold as I poke his side.

“Yes, yes, he’s in heaven, crazy girl.” He strokes my hair and his eyes go soft—almost sorrowful. I’m not sure what’s behind his sadness, but I push the thought away, not wanting to ruin the day. “It’s inevitable. Horsey heaven without Sea Biscuit is like a poppy field without Alex … impossible.”

“Yeah,” I say softly, lost in the moment—lost in West.

“They’re still not speaking to me, Miss Anna. It’s like I’m invisible.” I sigh and shrug my shoulders. “I mean, I’m not signing up for the circus or enrolling in pole dancing classes to start an illustrious career at The Rockin’ Robin Gentleman’s Club. I’m going to art school! Some parents may even be, oh, I don’t know, proud?”

Holly and I perch on barstools pushed up to the center island of the club’s kitchen, munching on Miss Anna’s famous chocolate chip cookies. We watch her roll out the crust for her equally famous sweet potato pie while pondering the never-ending silent treatment that my parents instituted since the moment I told them about New York. Well, not right after I told them—there were a few minutes of “Over my dead body!” and “You have lost your little mind, young lady!” Then the chill set in, and I became invisible.

“Darling girl, they are proud of you. They just don’t know it yet,” Miss Anna says in her matter-of-fact tone that reminds me she usually has all the answers. “They may have silver spoons shoved up their bee-hinds, but they love you dearly. Give them some time.”

Holly giggles, spitting cookie crumbs onto the stainless steel counter. She covers her mouth quickly to prevent further cookie shrapnel.

“Silver spoons up their asses! So true!”

“Watch your mouth, young lady. You’re sporting a teaspoon yourself, at the very least,” Miss Anna accuses, raising her eyebrows, daring Holly to argue.

“Don’t worry, Holly. It’s a really nice, teaspoon. Engraved and everything,” I say as I pat her hand in mock sympathy.

“Y’all are so funny. Hil-ar-ee-ous.” Holly shakes her head and rolls her eyes. While Holly may lean a little heavily toward the snooty, uppity side of life, she’s still my best friend. She knows I love her, even though we don’t see eye-to-eye on some things.