Chapter 53: Sadie: The Only Girl

SADIE

My face tightens into a scowl. He really is incapable of leaving a good moment alone. At this point, I’m starting to suspect sincerity causes him physical discomfort.

"I’d rather not bond anymore."

"That’s unfortunate." He gestures toward the mesh enclosure by the window. "I was going to let you meet my children as a reward for your kindness."

All irritation leaves me at once.

"Really?"

The answer barely matters. I’m already hurrying across the room before he can change his mind. He promised to introduce me to the butterflies days ago, but since then, I’ve had to settle for sneaking glances whenever I use his bathroom.

I stop in front of the enclosure and lean toward the mesh. Several butterflies rest inside, their wings slowly opening and closing beneath the light. Trey comes to stand beside me, and I point eagerly at one with bright blue and yellow wings.

"That one is so beautiful."

"That’s Tuesday."

I glance up at him. "You named that gorgeous butterfly that?"

"It emerged on Tuesday."

"What happens if another one emerges on Tuesday?"

"It becomes Tuesday Two."

Of course it does.

I turn back before he can see me smile. "How long do you keep them?"

"About a week after they emerge. Once their wings are strong enough, I release them."

I look from the beautiful things to Trey again. No matter how many times I remind myself that he raises them in his bedroom, the fact still refuses to fit properly inside my head.

"When did you even start doing this?" I ask. "How does someone like you wake up one morning and decide to raise butterflies?"

His head turns slightly. "Someone like me?"

"You know what I mean."

"Sophomore year," he replies. "I found one outside the apartment with a damaged wing. It could barely move, so I brought it inside and tried to keep it alive."

My heart melts a little. "Awwww. You saved it?"

"It died."

I press my lips together and turn back to his children. "Right."

"That’s what got me interested, though. I started reading about them and found a breeder who supplies native species. Now I buy the eggs or caterpillars in small batches and raise them. It became part of my routine."

"Wow." I lean closer as an orange-and-gray butterfly settles on a leaf. "What’s that one called?"

"Mildred."

I slowly turn toward him. "Why does she sound eighty?"

"She looked older than the others." The answer comes with a careless shrug.

"You’re genuinely the worst." I shake my head and return to the enclosure. "All these beautiful creatures, and these are the names you give them?"

My judgment has no effect on the introductions. There’s Wi-Fi, who disappears whenever Trey tries to find him; Kevin, who earned his name because he doesn’t like his colors; a pale yellow butterfly called Lemon; and a small white one named Susan.

By the time I’ve met all his children, I’m equally fascinated by them and worried about the naming system they’ve been forced to live under.

"Will they know how to survive when you release them?" I ask. "They’ve spent their whole lives in here."

"They know how to be butterflies, Sadie." He points toward the potted plants. "I use the host plant for each species, keep the batches small, and clean the enclosure every day. The temperature, airflow, and humidity have to stay right or mold starts growing."

Now that I’m looking properly, the care behind the setup becomes obvious. The plants have room between them, the mesh keeps the enclosure ventilated, and the feeding dishes are shallow enough that nothing can become trapped.

"I don’t interfere unless something’s wrong," he continues. "Once they emerge, I wait for their wings to expand and harden. Then I check that they’re feeding and flying properly."

"And when they can, you just let them go anywhere?"

A long sigh answers me. "I spend weeks keeping them alive just to throw them outside wherever?"

"When you put it like that..."

"I find somewhere sheltered with the right nectar plants and release them when it’s warm and dry, with no rain or heavy wind. They usually stay for about a week, but if one is ready earlier and the weather is good, I don’t keep it here for my benefit."

The ease in his voice almost hides how much work goes into all of this.

He knows what they eat, the conditions each species needs, and exactly when they’re strong enough to leave. He doesn’t do any of this carelessly, even though the entire point is to raise something he can’t keep.

"You surprise me sometimes, Trey," I admit.

A brief pause follows. "In a good way?"

"Today, yes. Don’t get too excited."

"All it took was butterflies to improve your opinion of me?"

"It’s not exactly a common hobby." I look back at the enclosure. "I’ve never met another guy who would put this much effort into caring for something so delicate."

"It’s not a big deal." He turns from the window. "My mum liked butterflies, and they’re easy enough to raise when you know what they need."

With that, he heads back toward the bed, and I take it as my cue that the sightseeing portion of the night is over.

Trey slips beneath the covers just as I reach the bed. As I lean over to collect the towel beside him, I find him watching me.

"When you get your next batch, can I help feed them?"

"Yeah." He settles against the pillows. "I’ll show you what to do."

"Great." I take a few steps toward the bathroom before stopping. "And, Trey?"

"What?"

"It’s really cool that you do this. You should show this side of yourself more often. Not that the other side is bad, but..." That sounded better before I started saying it. "You know what I mean."

He stays quiet, giving me no indication that he does.

"And, um... good luck tomorrow," I add. "I heard the team you’re playing is tough."

"This is your first game, isn’t it?" he asks.

"Yeah." A smile starts pulling at my lips. "I’ve never seen one in person before."

He takes a moment before asking, "Do you still have my jacket?"

"Of course I do. Where would it have gone?"

"Good." His head rests against the pillows. "Then I assume you know the game-day dress code."

"There’s a dress code?" I ask, unable to hide my confusion.

He releases a long, disappointed sigh. "The jacket I gave you isn’t going to wear itself. Don’t wait until tomorrow to learn the rules."

For a moment, I’m still waiting for an explanation. Then I replay the sentence.

The jacket he gave me. Tomorrow.

Oh.

He wants me to wear it.

A grin starts before I can stop it, small at first, then impossible to hide. I press my lips together, but that only makes the effort more obvious.

"You don’t give your jackets to random girls, do you?" I tease. "Because if this is something every girl gets to do, I’m not interested. I only participate when it’s special."

He shakes his head. "You’re trying very hard to protect your pride while claiming me at the same time."

"For the last time, I’m not claiming you." I lift my chin. "I have principles. One of them is not competing with other women."

"You’re the only girl who has worn it." He lets that settle for a moment. "Happy now?"

A little too happy.

"Fine," I say, trying not to sound as pleased as I feel. "I’ll grant you the privilege of seeing me in your jacket tomorrow. But you’d better win. Losing would make this collaboration look bad for both of us."

"I don’t lose often."

"That confidence is going to injure you one day."

"You might not know this about me yet, Quiz Bowl, but when I decide I want something, I get it." The calm delivery doesn’t match the weight of his stare. "The game is only one of those things."

A quiet tension moves through the room.

He could still be talking about hockey. He probably is. Yet the words land somewhere along my spine, feeling like a promise he expects me to remember.

"I should go shower," I say, gesturing awkwardly toward the bathroom.

"Yeah."

His gaze burns into the back of my head until I disappear into the bathroom.