Sing For Me by Rachel Schurig

Will

It’s a typical Sunday for the Ransome family. Which means my Uncle Reed’s backyard is filled with aunts, uncles, siblings, and cousins here for the weekly family lunch.

Five or six of my younger cousins are participating in a very noisy game of water volleyball in the pool. Cade, Vega, and Ash are playing a rousing game of lawn Jenga a few feet away. My dad and uncles are on the patio, arguing over who’s running the grill. And Rose and I are stretched out under a tree, enjoying our little pocket of quiet within all the crazy.

“What’s going on with them?” I ask her, gesturing my beer bottle toward Alex, Everly, and Fox, who are huddled together over one of the picnic tables, shooing away any of the kids who come near them.

“They’re working on some project,” Rose tells me, wrinkling her nose. “Everly won’t tell me what it is, which is very much not like her.”

“Not at all like her,” I mutter, studying my cousins. Everly is a gossip lover and can’t keep a secret to save her life. “Did you ask Fox?” Besides for Everly, he’s probably the biggest gossip in the family.

“Apparently, they’re all sworn to secrecy,” she says, and I can tell from her tone she doesn’t like it at all. Rose is the cousin everyone else comes to when they need a listening ear. She’s one of the most empathetic people I’ve ever met and she gives great advice—and great hugs. It’s rare to find her at a family event like this without a little kid or two cuddling up to her.

“You’re going to start snooping through their things if they don’t confide in you soon, aren’t you?” I ask, grinning.

She narrows her eyes. “While we’re on the subject of people keeping secrets, you gonna tell me about your date sometime this century?”

“It was last night, Rosie.”

“Yes, and I’ve been waiting to ask you about it all morning!”

“You’re getting as bad as Everly and Fox.” I tug on one of her curls and she scowls, batting my hand away.

“It’s not gossip,” she insists. “It’s conversation with my favorite cousin.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Favorite cousin, huh? You think you’re going to get me to spill my guts by getting on my good side?”

“It can’t hurt,” she grumbles. When I don’t start talking, she groans, flopping back against the blanket. “Will,” she whines and I laugh, relenting.

“It went…okay. I guess.”

She braces herself on her elbows and looks over at me. “You sound real sure about that.”

“It’s complicated, Rosie.”

“Did you tell her about Skye?”

“Kind of?” I blow out a breath, frustrated. “I mentioned her, but we didn’t get all that far. She told me a little bit about what happened with the fire. Her recovery hasn’t been easy. She, uh, isn’t so sure she’s in a good place for dating.”

“So you guys have that in common,” Rose says drily, and I let out a snort of laughter.

“That’s kind of the consensus we came to,” I tell her. “We’re both a little fucked up.”

Rose is quiet for a moment. “When you say she’s fucked up…”

“Sounds like PTSD.” I wouldn’t share that guess with anyone except Rose. I know she won’t say a word, not about something like this.

I also know that Rose won’t judge. All of our parents have always been very open with us kids about mental health issues. I let my eyes wander across the lawn until I catch sight of Rose’s mom, my Aunt Daisy, over on the patio. It looks like she’s teasing my dad about something at the grill, her expression set in a familiar laugh.

That’s how I always picture Aunt Daisy’s face when I think of her—green eyes flashing with amusement, a grin on her face. But I know it wasn’t always like that for her. The bullying she went through as a teenager got so bad that she attempted suicide before finally getting treatment.

My family doesn’t treat her experience as some dirty secret to cover up. When we were old enough to understand it, Aunt Daisy sat down with each of us, making sure we knew what she’d been through and how she healed from it. I’m sure it’s that openness that led Rose to her decision to study psychology at a local university.

Aunt Daisy isn’t the only one of the adults who struggled with something like that. My own mother had a debilitating bout of depression after her first husband died. All of our parents talked very frankly about their personal experiences—and always encouraged us to do the same.

Not that I did a great job taking that advice after Skye.

“That’s understandable,” Rose is saying and I pull my attention back to her. “Everything I’ve read about that fire sounds horrific.”

I think about what Eva had told me, about being trapped while the fire raged, and have to fight back a shudder. It’s probably not a good sign how very terrified I am by the thought of something happening to her.

“Is she getting help?” Rose asks.

“For the physical injuries, yeah. The other stuff, I’m not sure.”

Rose studies my face, blue eyes sharp. She knows me too well. “You really like this girl, huh?”

I sprawl back onto the blanket. There’s no point in trying to hide it from her. “I really do, Rosie.”

She lays her head next to mine. “Why is that a bad thing?”

“She wants to be friends,” I blurt out, and Rose stills.

“Friends?”

I give a jerky nod. The entire time she was talking last night, telling me all the reasons she didn’t think she could be in a relationship, there had been a part of me trying to convince myself it was a good thing. Because I wasn’t supposed to want to date anyone either. All of the second guessing and back and forth I’d been doing should have been proof enough. She was giving me an out, and I would be stupid not to take it.

So why did the words feel so bitter on my tongue when I told her we could just be friends?

“Are you okay with that? With being friends?”

I chew on the inside of my cheek. “It’s probably for the best.” Rose doesn’t respond. “I mean, I don’t have the best track record.”

“Will.” She sounds exasperated. “That was not your fault.”

“I should have seen what was happening. I should have figured out a way to help her.”

“You were eighteen.”

“I was all she had.”

“Jesus,” Rose mutters, closing her eyes. “You have got to let go of that guilt, Will. It’s going to bury you.”

But how are you supposed to let go of guilt when you know it’s well-deserved?

“Okay,” she finally says, blowing out a deep breath. I know there’s more she wants to say on the topic of my guilt, but apparently, she’s decided to spare me the psychology spiel. “So, you’re going to try to be friends.”

“Looks that way.” I play with a strand of grass, smooth and cool against my fingers. “We said we’d just see how it goes.”

“I guess it’s not a bad idea,” she muses. “Don’t put too much pressure on it.”

“Right.”

Rose is quiet for a beat. “SWhen do I get to hang out with her again?”

I bark out a laugh. “What happened to avoiding pressure?”

“I won’t put pressure on you,” she argues. “I’m not saying you should like, bring her with you to this kind of madness.” She waves a hand at our cousins running around the yard. “But if you’re going to be friends you guys should definitely hang out at the apartment so I can get to know her.”

“Maybe,” I hedge. The truth is, I want very much to bring Eva to our apartment. I want her there, in my refuge, the place where I’m most comfortable. Hell, I want her with me all the time. Maybe that’s why I stayed up half the night sketching her face, trying to get the slope of her long, elegant neck just right.

But I’m trying to keep a reign on those feelings. I’ve already fallen much too far, much too fast.

Just friends. I have a feeling I’m going to need to remind myself of those words a hell of a lot.

“On the other hand,” Rose muses, face scrunched up in thought. “Bringing her here would probably tell you a lot about her mental fortitude.”

I groan. “I’m not bringing her to a family thing. Not for a very, very long time. Probably not ever.”

“What about—”

“Okay, can we be done with this conversation now?” I beg. “How did girl’s night turn out? You guys convince Pres to put paint on her nails?”

Rose narrows her eyes. “You’re not going to distract me, Will.”

“We could talk about your dating life,” I suggest.

She rolls her eyes at me. “Fine. Go get me a burger and I’ll drop it.”

I jump up off the blanket. “Done.”

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” she calls after me as I jog towards the patio.

“Will,” Vega shouts as I pass the Jenga set. Cade and Ash seem to have given up and are now playing a jousting game with the large wooden pieces. “Tell them to knock it off!”

“You’re just mad because you lost,” Cade says. “Hey, Will, grab me a burger.”

“Me too!” Ash calls.

“That’s gonna be a no,” I respond, waving. “And stop hitting each other with those things.”

My dad and uncles are still arguing when I get to the grill. “Those ones are too done already,” Lennon is saying, pointing at a row of burgers. “They’re practically hockey pucks. Why don’t you let me…” he reaches for the spatula and my dad smacks his hand.

“Get out of here, they’re fine.”

“I don’t know, old man,” I say, coming up behind him. “They’re looking pretty dried out.”

“Not you too,” he grumbles. “I expect betrayal from my brothers but from my own son?”

“Not at all dramatic there, Cash,” Uncle Daltrey says. He fixes his blue-eyed gaze on me, so similar to my best friend’s. “Why didn’t you bring your girlfriend over to meet the family, Will?”

I do my best to keep from groaning aloud. “I don’t have a girlfriend, Uncle D.”

“Sure, you don’t,” Reed says, brushing hair off his forehead and peering at me with his piercing eyes—eyes that look way too amused right now for my liking.

Like Daltrey, Uncle Reed is blond, tall, and lanky. My Uncle Lennon looks more like my dad, with darker hair and a stockier build. I look like all four of them. I have the same broad chest and blue eyes as my dad but my hair color is closer to Lennon’s, and I match Daltrey and Reed in height—something my dad is still bitter about to this day.

“That picture sure looked like the two of you are getting pretty cozy,” Uncle Lennon points out.

I stare at him. “You saw that picture?”

“Oh, buddy.” Uncle Daltrey slings an arm around my shoulder. “We all saw that picture.”

“Looks like one of my cousins needs to get their ass kicked,” I mutter. “What happens on the group thread is supposed to stay on the group thread.”

“Ooh, are we talking about the picture?” an excited voice squeals and then my Aunt Paige is wrapping her arms around me, her wild black curls covering my face as she squeezes me. “She’s so pretty, Will! When do I get to meet her?”

“Oh, God,” I mutter, pushing her away as gently as I can.

“Give the kid a break, Paige,” Aunt Daisy says, joining us. Uncle Daltrey immediately grabs her around the waist and pulls her into his lap. “He obviously doesn’t want to talk about his girlfriend yet.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Sam and I were just talking about them,” Paige tells Daisy, ignoring me. “She says she has a good feeling about it.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. Why did I think it was a good idea to come to this thing again?

“Did you meet her at the gala?” Aunt Daisy asks Paige. “I heard she was there but I didn’t get a chance to talk to her.”

“No, but Haylee spent some time with her and she said she was just delightful,” Paige gushes.

“You guys know I’m standing right here, right?” I ask.

“Everyone’s just excited for you,” my dad cuts in, and I tense, already knowing what’s coming next. “It’s been so long since you’ve dated.”

“And there’s a good reason for that,” I mutter, giving him a warning glare. We are not talking about that here.

He studies my face for a moment before sighing. “We all just want you to be happy, Will.”

“I’d be much happier if you guys dropped this.”

“Will—”

To my great relief, Rose is heading our way. “You’re taking too long with my burger,” she calls out to me, winking, and I know she must have read my irritation from across the lawn and is coming to rescue me. Good old Rose.

Of course, when she hits the patio all of my uncles’ attention goes to her.

“Rosie! How are you, baby girl?”

“I’m good, Uncle Reed,” she says, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“Good to see you, sweetheart,” Lennon says, wrapping an arm around her.

“Where’s my kiss?” my dad asks, mock-hurt, and she rolls her eyes before coming over to kiss his cheek, too.

Rose is the best distraction from my dad and uncles because they’re all crazy about her. We talk a lot about how CeCe, the youngest, is the baby of the family but the truth is, Rose will always be the baby as far as her uncles are concerned. Since Wyatt didn’t meet the family until he was eight, Rose was the first offspring they all knew since birth. According to our moms, they were all obnoxiously smitten with her from the start, a sentiment that hasn’t changed no matter how many kids followed her.

“How’s school going, Rosie?” my dad asks. “You still kicking total ass with all those eggheads?”

“Of course she is,” her dad says proudly, slinging an arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “My girl is a badass at everything she tries. Gonna have her PHD in a few years. Dr. Ransome.”

Rose leans into her dad’s side and I can’t help the little twinge of jealousy I feel. She’s so close with her parents.

How long has it been since I’ve felt that way?

“Hey, this kid actually listens to you,” Uncle Reed says to her, pointing at me. “Why don’t you convince him to bring his new girlfriend over here to meet us?”

I groan. So much for the distraction. Rose’s eyes are flashing with humor as she looks at me. “I think you’re going to give him a stroke,” she whispers loudly.

“Why wouldn’t you want her to meet us?” Uncle Daltrey asks me. “We’re awesome.”

“You’re annoying as fuck,” I shoot back, and he puts a hand over his heart, mock-wounded.

A commotion erupts behind us in the pool—apparently the kids have moved on from volleyball to playing chicken which led to Nix trying to pants Silas. Everyone in the pool is either yelling or hysterically laughing. I raise an eyebrow at my uncles. “Point proven.”

My phone dings in my pocket and I pull it out, hoping for some kind of escape from this crazy. I try very hard not to smile when I see the text is from Eva.

But apparently, I don’t do a good enough job because my uncles immediately start to chuckle. “Oh,” Aunt Paige cries, clapping. “That’s her, isn’t it? You should see your face. You’re so freaking cute!”

“You do look a little moony, buddy,” Uncle Reed says, grinning.

“Super in love,” Uncle Lennon adds.

“I hate all of you,” I tell them, typing a quick response to Eva, letting her know that pizza tomorrow sounds great, before pocketing my phone.

“Are you going out tonight?” Aunt Daisy asks.

“Ooh, we could help you get ready!” Aunt Paige squeals.

Behind her, Rose looks like she’s choking with laughter. I’m going to kill her.

“What’s up?” my mom asks, joining us, and I groan out loud. She narrows her eyes at my reaction and my dad smacks me on the back of the head. “Was that your attempt at a welcome?”

“Hello mother, you look so nice today,” I say through gritted teeth and she smiles.

“Much better.”

“We’re just talking with Will about his new girlfr—” Uncle Reed begins but I talk over him.

“They were just encouraging me to go home early,” I say pointedly.

“But we’ve barely seen you,” my mom argues.

“He just got a text from her,” Aunt Daisy stage-whispers. “He probably wants to go home and get ready for their date.”

My mom turns back to me, eyes dancing. She knows exactly how annoyed I am right now and she’s enjoying it far too much.

“I just wanted a burger,” I mutter and my dad swears, turning back to the grill.

“Aw, damn it,” he mutters. “I totally forgot.”

“Told ya you were gonna burn ’em,” Uncle Lennon says.

“Shoulda let me do it,” Reed says, trying to shoulder his way in front of the grill. “That one doesn’t look too bad. You want a burger, Rosie?”

“Why does she get the not-burned one?” I ask. “I got here first.”

“I’m married to the guy,” Aunt Paige points out. “And you don’t see him offering it to me. You just need to accept that they all love Rose the most and always will.”

My best friend grins at me, batting her eyelashes, and I shove her shoulder while she laughs.

“Let me put some fresh patties on here,” my dad says. “You can have one of those, Son.” He sees me start to turn away from the patio. “Hey where are you going?”

“You think I’m going to sit here for the next ten minutes while they cook? You’ll all drive me insane.”

“Oh, come on.” Aunt Daisy pulls me down into the chair next to her. “There’s nothing embarrassing about having a girlfriend—”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I grind out.

She holds up her hands. “Fine. Girl whom you are dating.”

“We’re not even dating! We talked last night and decided to just be friends.”

There’s a beat of silence on the patio and I feel all of their eyes on my face. “Well, that’s okay,” my mom finally says, breaking the silence. “You know, your father and I started as friends.”

He smirks at her from behind the grill. “Um, pretty sure we started when you picked me up in that bar, took me back to your apartment, and completely blew my mind in bed.”

I groan. “Can we please not?”

“Fine,” she says, glaring at Dad. “After what was supposed to be a no-strings-attached hookup—”

“Mom.”

“I decided to be persistent,” my dad says, ignoring me.

“Obnoxious,” she argues.

“Semantics.” He waves the spatula around. “The point is, I convinced your mom we could just be friends. And that’s how we got to know each other. And trust each other.”

She gives him that soft smile she reserves just for him. The one that always makes my chest ache in a weird way that I think might have something to do with loneliness.

“Yes, we did,” she murmurs and gets up to stand at his side.

My dad pulls her in close. “And after all the just-friends crap, she let me get in her pants again.”

“Cash!”

I can’t help laughing with the rest of them, even though the last thing I want to hear about is my mom’s pants.

“What they’re saying,” Aunt Paige says, “is that friendships can sometimes lead to beautiful relationships.”

“Jesus,” I mutter, burying my head in my hands. “Can I leave yet?”

“We’re sorry.” Aunt Daisy laughs, pulling my hands from my face. “We’ll be good.”

“We just want to know about your life,” Uncle Reed says. “Since we never see you.”

My shoulders tense at that. “Reed,” Paige murmurs softly.

“No, I’m just saying,” he goes on. “We fucking miss you, kid. You used to always hang around. Hell, we could never get rid of you.”

“I grew up,” I mutter, staring at the ground, a mixture of anger and guilt coursing through my veins. I know I’ve been a shitty son for the past few years. A shitty nephew. I’ve done everything within my power to be there for my siblings and my younger cousins but when it comes to the adults…there’s just too much there. Too much anger and blame and confusion. It’s easier to just stay away.

“You used to be at my house all the time,” Daltrey adds softly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. I grit my teeth so I don’t throw it off.

“Because Rose and River lived there,” I snap. “And now they live with me.”

“You didn’t just come to visit them and you know it.” His voice is a little sharper now and God, I don’t want to have this conversation.

“None of my kids have left home yet,” Uncle Lennon points out. “And you don’t come hang out at our place anymore either.”

“You used to sit in my music room for hours,” Uncle Reed says. “You would play that guitar while—”

I stand suddenly, knocking Daltrey’s hand from my shoulder. Everyone stares up at me.

“I need to see Riv about something,” I mutter, even though I have nothing to say to him. I don’t even know where he is.

“Will,” my dad says, reaching for my arm. “Just talk to us.”

“There’s nothing to fucking say!”

I don’t realize that I shouted it until the silence in the yard registers. All of my cousins have stopped playing and talking to turn and stare at us. I close my eyes, trying to get my temper under control.

I run my hand over the back of my neck in agitation. “I think I’ll just head out.”

“Don’t do that,” my dad says, frustrated. Maybe even angry.

“Will.” My mother’s voice is commanding even when quiet. “You’re not going home.”

My anger surges. “Mom—”

“You’re going to come and sit with me and eat a hamburger,” she says, in that firm voice that I never could argue with. “And then you’re going to spend time with your brother and sister and your cousins. Okay?”

“I’m not talking about Eva anymore,” I say, hearing the whiney petulance in my voice and hating it.

“Eva isn’t the one we want to talk to you about,” my dad says softly.

I don’t look at him. Don’t look at any of my uncles. But I don’t leave the yard, either. Instead I let my mom take my hand in her much smaller one and pull me over to the picnic tables on the grass.

I stay for another hour, playing Jenga with Silas and Nix, letting Santana and Lyric show me all their pictures from the sleepover the night before, talking to Vega about the recipe she’s planning for the next show. I talk to my mom and to my cousins. Kick a soccer ball around with CeCe. I eat a hamburger.

But I don’t go back to the patio. And I don’t talk to my dad or my uncles again.