Their Freefall At Last by Julie Olivia

42

Ruby

Two Months Before

Ruby & Bennett are Twenty-Nine Years Old

“Pass me the marker?”

“Marker,” I confirm, handing the Sharpie to Quinn.

“Tape?”

“Tape.”

“Elephant?”

“What?” I ask.

“The elephant in the room.”

I sigh, swiveling my eyes over to Quinn.

“What elephant?” I ask in as innocent of a voice as I can muster. “There is no elephant.”

Quinn hums with a nod. “Sure there’s not.”

And because I’m entirely too predictable, I glance over at Bennett next to Jolene, sitting on the railing across the midway. Her arms are crossed, but then again, they’re always crossed nowadays. And Bennett is smiling that gorgeous smile of his, but then again, his is always gorgeous.

Ugh.

“Uh-huh,” Quinn notes, starting to scrawl on the poster board.

“Whatever. You missed a letter.”

She pauses to check, sees she didn’t miss anything, then clicks her tongue. “Very funny.”

I like being at the park with my friends, feeling the late-summer warmth. Cedar Cliff’s generous mountain breeze breaks some of the oppressive Southern heat wave.

It’s the afternoon of my birthday and the day before the huge celebration Jolene and our friends planned for me and Bennett at Honeywood. They’re still decorating, and I’m not sure if the birthday duo is supposed to be here decorating, too, but when all your friends are doing one thing and hanging out only with each other is now awkward, you tag along and decorate for your own party instead.

I guess.

It’s been almost a year since the engagement, and I’m still not sure how to navigate our friendship. It was awkward at first, only visiting each other at Trivia Night and barely texting. But then we slowly started sending GIFs and memes, and our friendship blossomed into a semblance of what it once had been.

But not exactly the same.

When we’re in a group, we’re fine. When we’re in a text thread, we’re perfect. When it’s just the two of us? Well, we don’t go there anymore. It’s filled with weird looks and stumbling words.

I steal another glance at Bennett, and I find he’s already looking at me. He averts his eyes.

I straighten my spine and turn back to Quinn.

“Guilty,” she singsongs.

“I can handle a silly birthday,” I whisper. “I can do this. I’m confident. Never been more confident in my life.”

And I am. I have my dream job, learning every day from my dream mentor. I’m fit for the first time in my life, finally eating more than scraps of bread and cheese, like some medieval mouse. I even ignore texts from my dad, which he’s not a huge fan of, but they’re finally paying for an actual babysitter, and that’s a big step for them. It’s big for me too. Now, when Lucas comes over, the dynamic has shifted. I’m his sister, not his caretaker. As I should be.

I’m growing. I’ve grown.

But then I hear the familiar low call of, “Hey, Rubes! Blue or pink?” and sometimes, I wonder just how far I’ve actually come.

Bennett holds two streamers in the air, draped over his large fingers, so delicate, unlike him with his sleeve of tattoos and crooked smile. I’ve always loved when his harshness is juxtaposed with something gentler.

“Pink!” Quinn calls back for me, then leans in to whisper, “Like the massive pink elephant in this whole damn park.”

“Shush.”

“It’s just a birthday, she says.” Quinn mocks the words I’ve said too many times to count.

Emory walks across the midway toward us, hands in his pockets, looking at Quinn’s handiwork on the poster board, then back to me. His face scrunches up, and those reliably thick eyebrows of his turn in.

“You look awful,” he observes.

“Wow. Thanks, boss,” I mumble sarcastically.

“It’s your birthday. You shouldn’t be helping.”

“That’s what I said,” Quinn grunts.

“Boy, am I glad I gathered all the grumps in one place,” I say, raising my shoulders to my ears in a faux innocent gesture. “I’m fine. I don’t mind helping. It’s just a birthday.”

“It’s just a birthday,” Quinn echoes in her mimicking, high-pitched voice.

My pocket buzzes, and I tug out my phone.

Michael:On a scale of one to “I need to fly down there,” how nervous are you for tonight?

I immediately lock my phone back.

Okay, so apparently, everyone can read me like a freaking book.

“How’s snot face?” Quinn sneers.

“Michael is good.” I tap my fingers on the railing.

“And?”

“We’re just friends,” I answer, and when she tilts her chin down, I laugh. “Promise. Still just friends.”

I repeat it because it’s true, but also because I have to remind myself and Michael constantly. He’s in New York, achieving his finance bro dreams or whatever. We’ve only messed around once—last New Year’s Eve when I flew to New York to watch the celebrations from his fancy apartment right near Times Square. But that one night under fireworks was the furthest we’ve ever journeyed.

I’ve tried to date a few people from dating apps, but it’s never worked out. A kiss here. A hug there. But ultimately, if I were to date anyone, it would be Michael.

Unfortunately, Michael is only a good friend. He’s the one person I’ve unloaded the whole sordid saga of me and Bennett to, and he didn’t judge me one bit. Just a few snarky comments that made me laugh. He’s still an ass after all these years.

“You know I’ll be fine if you want to invite him,” Quinn says even though her tight lips say otherwise.

“I know,” I say.

Quinn really is trying to be accommodating when it comes to Michael. The two of them still haven’t fully reconciled, even after he came down this past spring to hang out with the two of us and Lorelei. Bennett was out of town, but that wasn’t on purpose.

Entirely.

Okay, so it was definitely on purpose.

Bennett still has zero idea I’m talking to Michael, and that’s honestly for the best. I hate keeping things from my best friend. Well, from … my friend. Just friend. Not best friend. Because Bennett and I are … well … I can’t even form the words to describe what we are. And if I did, I might be calling Michael in tears again, and I’m getting tired of crying to my pseudo-boyfriend and/or pal.

I immediately pocket my phone when Bennett walks up. His hair is tied up in a bun, as it always is nowadays, per Jolene’s request. I miss how it hung on his shoulders, wild and free, like he just hopped off his motorcycle. But he doesn’t really ride that much anymore.

“Jolene says she wants purple streamers,” Bennett says with a heavy sigh. “Please tell me you know where those are.”

“Yeah,” Quinn chimes in. “I think Lorelei has them in the boxes backstage.”

“Figured.”

“I know where the box is,” I offer. “I’ll go with you.” And I don’t know why I even said a dang word, but I did because it’s Bennett.

He smiles. “Are you luring me to my death?”

“God, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

“Well then, lead the way.”

I faintly hear Quinn whisper, “Elephant,” as we walk off.

Just the two of us.