The Churning Wake

Chapter Fourteen - Now

"Why not, Bri?"

"She hasn't made any effort, Leo." His name slips from my lips tinged with scorn and I immediately regret it.

Leo frowns, "Maybe she's waiting for you to extend the olive branch."

"She should just rip one off the tree already, and chuck it at me, then," I reply, picking at a rip in the bench's plastic fabric.

Leo laughs quietly, "That's not how it works and you know it."

"That may be, but be honest, Leo, when's the last time you actually talked to Leah Cramer?"

"Touché." I sit back, satisfied, but Leo narrows his eyes at me. "You're giving up? Just like that?" He snaps his fingers, then shakes his head slowly. "Fine. Then I'll call her."

"Right now?" I ask, surprised.

"Hell no. I have to figure out what to say and how to say it first. You know how Leah is— if she doesn't like it, she will not hesitate to say fuck you and hang up."

"Yeah," I agree. "Pretty standard Leah behavior."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dakota locking the restaurant doors. My body tenses instinctively and Leo notices. His head turns to follow my gaze to where it's locked on Dakota's struggling. "C'mon, Bri. Let's go."

"Yes," I say, out of my seat and ready to go. He dumps the trash in the trash can and leaves his tray atop the trash can. He squeezes out the side door into the cool night air, and I follow.

It's kinda chilly for early May, and I shiver. Leo smiles at me, "Are you cold?"

I shake my head, "No."

"Whatever," Leo says, slipping out of his hoodie.

I hold up a hand, "Uhh, no?"

"Uhh, yes?" He pulls it over my head, and I try to fight him off halfheartedly, but he gets it on and then we're just standing there on the patio, laughing like fools. I slide my arms in the sleeves and Leo smiles, "Better?"

"No," I insist. "I'm too warm now." That's a fat-ass lie, though.

His hoodie smells like him and it brings memories of Cole wafting over me. It smells distinctly like him: coffee, cologne and crayons, and a hint of vanilla from his mother hidden underneath all of it. I close my eyes and breathe in the other part of it, the part that's just pure boy, that I haven't smelled in three years. Three years ago is when the smell on Cole's hoodies faded from too many nights spent in them, crying. Holding Beanie firmly against my chest, and his hoodie holding me, we stood together as I rocked our baby to sleep, or we lay curled up in bed as I cried.

The tears pop into my eyes unbidden, and Leo, searching my face, notices, "Hey, there. Bri, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

I sniffle, which is embarrassing as hell, and nod, "I'm fine. I'm totally, completely okay."

"Are you sure about that?" One of his eyebrows raises. He pats the patio chair beside him.

"Leo..." I start, but his eyes have a gentleness about them that is too much for me to refuse. "Fine."

I plop down beside him, and he makes no moves on me, which I appreciate. "You know," Leo says, after a minute. "We could start now. Send out a group text, and then see what everyone says, how they react."

"Why not? Let's do it."

"Really?"

"Yeah...?"

"No, it's just—" He pauses, searching for the right words. "I just didn't expect you to be so... eager."

"I try," I say, sticking my tongue out at him.