Signed, Sealed, Delivered: A brother’s best friend / anonymous penpal romance (Wells Family)

Age 20:

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Five years?? How is that even possible? Absolutely down for a simultaneous live watching of Finding Nemo…as if we haven’t watched it a hundred times already. But it’ll be cool to think that, wherever you are, we’re under the same sky, watching the same movie. Make it feel like you’re close.

Sorry, got a little emotional. You know me.

Let’s do something big for year ten, yeah? Maybe we can finally meet up then! I can bring Megan Fox with me, because, of course, we will be married by then, and you can bring your nerdy IT husband who doesn’t deserve you.

It’ll be great.

Happy anniversary,

Shiny

***

It was symbolic, really. Slipping my key into the lock at the end of a long, tough shift, only for the key to get jammed in place. Like I was the key, unable to break free from the stressors holding me captive.

I’d worked late again, then I met a student at the studio for a last-minute guitar lesson. He had a recital coming up, and his mom had begged me to meet for a few extra sessions. And although I had worked way past my scheduled time at West Oak, I couldn’t say no. Just the thought of saying that word made my skin itch. Like a miniature Nathan was sitting on my shoulder, convincing me that if I said no, then I was officially the world’s biggest jerk. That thought would fester until I’d eventually say fine and give away every free hour I had.

The lessons weren’t the issue. I loved teaching kids to play far more than I liked my actual job. Truth be told, if I could swing it financially, I’d love to do it more.

Watching the way their eyes lit up, just like mine had once, as they put the puzzle of music together, was far more rewarding than anything else I’d ever experienced. Especially with the ones who really struggled. For weeks, they’d practice. Sometimes they wanted to give up, but I encouraged them to keep going. Over and over. Until it happened. Their brains fired off signals that finally connected to their hands, lighting up the synapses and directing their movements in all the right ways. Sliding that last piece into the puzzle until the final picture became clear.

It was incredible, and I felt almost guilty being the one who got to witness those moments time and time again. And I felt fortunate to be the one parents trusted with their kids. They’d drop them off for one hour a week, and in a month or so, new little humans would form.

So I wouldn’t mind the late nights and tired mornings. The kids were worth it.

On nights like tonight, I’d come home and run straight to bed. Tonight, however, I opened my door to see Dallas, Luke’s seven-year-old nephew, tiptoeing across the floor in full kid-sized army gear. He had a Nerf gun lifted to his line of sight like he was ready to fire at any given moment. What looked like brown eyeshadow was smeared across his cheeks for war paint.

“Hey, Dal—”

Dallas lifted a finger to his lips, signaling me to hush.

I put both hands out in front of me, then slowly set my keys on the counter quietly.

Dallas, brows furrowed and lips sealed tight, shifted his gun to one hand and raised the other to the sky. He gestured wildly: two fingers pointing toward the couch, then a fist, then an arm straight out, a tap to his ankle. And finally, he dropped to the floor and army crawled to the couch.

I had no idea where Miles and Calla were, and I wasn’t interested in getting caught in this crossfire without a weapon, so I followed Dallas’s lead and army crawled my way behind my gray sectional.

He sat up and leaned against the back of the couch, procuring a sandwich bag full of Goldfish from his camo pocket as he did so.

“Rations?” he asked in a hushed tone, holding the Ziploc bag out to me.

I looked down at the bag of crushed orange crackers and back up to him. “Uh, no thanks. I had an MRE before I got here.”

He mumbled, “Good, good” before shoving a handful of the snack that smiles back into his cheek and chewing fiercely.

I peeked around the couch, but the little man thrust a forceful hand out, smacking my chest and jolting me back to the safe zone. He made no noise, only shook his head.

“Hey,” I whispered, “how do you know all those signals?”

Dallas scanned the living room from behind the couch. “Dad plays Call of Duty a lot.”

Pressing my lips together, I gave him an impressed nod.

A slight creak behind us had me whipping around. Calla was sitting a few inches from me, wearing tiny light purple athletic shorts and a gray T-shirt that said Unagi on the front.

I nearly jolted out of my skin at the jump scare.

Her response was a wicked smile, then she whispered, “Any last words?”

I raised both hands. “Mercy?”

She had none. No, she shot me at close-range, her suctioned Nerf bullet nailing me in the middle of my forehead.

In a fit of giggles, Miles poked out from behind Calla. Dallas joined in, and their aunt couldn’t resist either. Their laughter filled the apartment as I attempted to break the suction off my head.

I broke the seal and reached out to Dallas for a spare gun.

Still cackling, he handed it to me.

Calla pointed to my forehead. “You may want to check your injuries first.”

Heart lurching, I rushed to the mirror in the entryway. Injury? From a Nerf gun?

Sure enough, there was a purple circle in the middle of my forehead. I had a hickey from a Nerf dart.

I cocked my own plastic weapon. “You have no idea what you started.”

Calla turned to Miles and nodded, lowering her protective goggles. Then they were off, running into the kitchen.

Dallas and I chased them, using the coffee table, throw pillows, and barstools as protection from the foam bullets coming our way.

The boys laughed so hard when I got Calla in the nose and her mouth popped open in a shocked snort. Her soft brown hair flew behind her, and her vanilla scent filled my nose as she circled the island and I ran after her. She looked over her shoulder, gentle laughter escaping her lips, and fired, only to miss and hit the couch behind me.

I paused and switched gears, turning the opposite way so I could catch her on the other side of the counter. She shrieked when I grasped her waist and spun her around. My chest heaved as I gasped for breath, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.

Man, when was the last time I’d actually run? I was far more out of shape than I realized.

When I set her back on the ground, she looked up at me. Her smile slowly vanished as she stared into my eyes. As if she were longing for an answer to an unspoken question. One she was desperately seeking.

Without my permission, my focus dropped to her mouth, to the pretty pink lips jutted out slightly.

She watched me, wide-eyed, as I openly took her in. The spell was broken when her attention drifted over my shoulder and caught on something behind me. She shook her head slightly and turned to Miles and Dallas, who were wrestling over the last gun.

“Uh, who wants cookies?” she asked in a high-pitched squeak.

The boys dropped their weapons and immediately called an unspoken truce as they scrambled off the floor and raised their hands, arms pin straight in the air.

For a second there, it was like the world around us had vanished. I couldn’t look away from her, and her eyes were locked on me just as intently. I wanted to kiss her. Bad. To find out whether her lips tasted as good as they looked, or if she’d melt into my touch. I wanted to know things about her that no one should know about their best friend’s little sister. Just like a couple of nights ago in the music room, a bolt of lightning hit my chest as I watched her with the boys. She pulled out mixing bowls that I didn’t even know I owned and moved to the pantry to find ingredients. I rubbed my chest in an attempt to calm the dull ache. I needed a shot of Pepto and a good deep breath.

Thirty minutes later, Calla had me rolling out parchment paper onto two baking sheets as she scooped spoonfuls of cookie dough onto them.

“What are these called again?” I asked while definitely not licking the raw cookie dough off my finger.

“Beach cookies. A Mama B classic.” Calla popped the baking dishes in the preheated oven.

“Why are they called beach cookies?”

With a smile, she licked the spoon.

I had to look away from her. The action was too intimate to witness.

“Because we only make them when we’re going to the beach. And the most important ingredient is coconut, of course.”

Coconut. A staple in a Wells kitchen. Though I would devour just about anything as long as it was labeled Mama B’s recipe.

“But we’re not going to the beach.”

“Hush.”

I chuckled as she scraped the bottom of the mixing bowl for the last remnants of dough. Dallas and Miles sat in the living room, the reflection of a blue dog dancing in their eyes as they watched a TV show, completely content. I couldn’t help but smile. They were the perfect mix of Liam and Marigold. The way they naturally moved at the same time was cute. Without looking at one another, they scratched their noses simultaneously, then lowered their brows as if they were in sync.

“I’m sorry if this is…a lot. I didn’t think about asking you until after I told Marigold I would watch them. You were gone so early this morning, and you always work so late. I hope this isn’t disrupting your routine.”

Taking note of how she noticed my absence in the early morning, I smiled.

“Nah, it’s fine. I always loved when Luke would bring them here.” They were about four the first time I found Luke chasing them around with a Darth Vader lightsaber.

Calla smiled up at me as she washed out the dishes in the sink. I joined her, taking the utensils out of her hand and grabbing a spare sponge and dish soap.

“I know it’s getting late, but do you think you could teach me a little piano tonight?”

Holding my breath, I looked at the clock on the microwave. It was already nine, and I did have to get up early so I could finish up a report, but if I said no, I’d only end up tossing and turning in bed, looking back and regretting my choice not to spend more time with her. Saying no was always difficult, but when it came to Calla, I had no doubt it would tear me up inside. It was like the idea of stomping on a bunny. My mind just wouldn’t let me get there.

“Sure. As soon as they leave, we’ll work on it, okay?”

She bounced on her heels a little, a habit so adorable it was already etched into my memory, and squealed, “Yay! I wanted to practice when I got home, but I already forgot everything you taught me.”

I sniffled a laugh. “Yeah, that’s common. Especially since it’s been a couple of days. We’ll get you there.”

She gave me a grin so big it made my heart ache.

***

As soon as Marigold came to get the boys, who may or may not have been hopped up on sugar and overstimulated after watching various dinosaur shows, Calla practically ran to my office.

I snorted a laugh when she slid through the doorway Risky Business style and plopped onto the bench. Turning back to me, she patted the seat next to her as though I needed permission to play my own instrument.

Though I rolled my eyes and bit back the smirk threatening to break through, I obeyed.

“Okay, let’s focus on notes first. There are eighty-eight keys, but you only have to remember the notes A through G. See these?” I settled my fingers on two black keys.

Calla nodded, her eyes bright and curious.

“Between these is the D. You can remember this because the two black keys on either side look like dog ears, and the white key, D, looks like a snout. D means dog.”

Calla nodded again and whispered, “I will name it Rover” under her breath.

“Um, sure. Next is hand position, so put your hands up here.”

She followed my instructions eagerly, positioning her fingers on random keys. I leaned into her to adjust her positioning, only to be assaulted by a playful mix of vanilla and jasmine. Forcing the air out of my lungs, I gritted my teeth and got back to work. Gently, I moved her left hand, ignoring how natural it felt touching her soft skin. Ignoring the sight of her long, delicate neck up close and the pulse fluttering in her throat.

“Left pinkie on C.” I pressed her pink-painted pinkie finger on the key to prove my point. When I leaned over her to move her right hand, our thighs slid against each other. Her knee brushed against mine, spreading warmth to my chest. My neck went hot, and my heart rate picked up a notch. Having Calla’s leg pressed against mine was comforting and frightening all at once. Like jumping into a pile of leaves when I was a kid. The piles always looked so tempting, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew a poisonous snake could be hiding under the leaves.

“Right thumb on this other C.” I pressed down again, letting the note ring out.

We stayed like that for a while, her leg pressed against mine as she followed my instructions through each disconnected note. Every piano string pulled felt like a tug in my chest, yanking me into Calla’s orbit. When she made a mistake, she’d let out a frustrated sigh, and her pulse would flutter in her throat. But she didn’t give up. She stuck with it, playing the instructed notes over and over until things began to click.

Calla Wells was overwhelming in every sense; her presence was overpowering, her beauty captivating, and her laughter contagious. I found myself unable to resist her charisma. She was simply too much to handle, and I could already see myself getting lost in her every time we were close.

Just as she was finally piecing it all together, her hand slipped so the melody turned into a deep, chaotic mess.

“Ugh. Maybe Ms. Mindella was right. I just don’t have the potential to be a musician.” She stood from the bench with a sigh and shuffled to the door.

Before she could get far, I snagged her wrist, wrapping my fingers all the way around it. The expression on her face as she glanced down at the connection and back up at me made my chest tight.

I took a deep breath before dropping her hand. “Don’t give up after one lesson. You’re doing great. If you find yourself getting frustrated with it, take a break. As long as you keep hitting that wall, you’re going to resent the music.”

I had seen it over and over again. A kid who went to two lessons and didn’t enjoy it or didn’t feel successful right away. He’d give up, and his parents would pull him out without so much as a thank you. But I’d also witnessed some pretty incredible kids push through their glass ceilings and really reach for their limits. And though it could only spell disaster for me, I wanted to push Calla to that limit too.