Chapter Text
water
Jeremiah's first real memory of Belly was when he was five and a half, and she was four.
It had been a hot day, and his mommy was teaching her how to swim while Laurel waited in the little end of the pool. Belly wore two big puffy floaties around her arms and didn’t want to go in the water at first. She looked at her feet, the pool, and then at her feet again.
“I don’t wanna.”
“It’s okay, honey,” Mommy said and touched the water so it made circles on top. “Don’t be scared. I’m right here, and so is your mommy. And Jere’s here too!”
He knew how to swim and didn’t need the floaties anymore, even though Conrad said he did.
“Jere?” Belly looked at him, and her mouth made a sad, upside-down U like she was going to cry.
She didn’t cry a lot, but when she did, her face got all red and puffy like the puppets on TV. Mommy said it was good to cry because then the feelings could go somewhere, and his body would feel better. But Belly cried until her mommy had to pick her up and take her for a nap.
He liked naps, and his favorite blanket had purple and green dinosaurs on it. Maybe Belly would feel better if she had a blanket, too.
“It’s easy, Belly Button,” and he smiled real big. “Watch.”
Like Dad taught him, he took a deep breath and jumped into the pool, grabbing his knees as he went.
Splash.
Water went everywhere.
His mommy shrieked, but Laurel bent her head and laughed.
“Jeremiah Laurence Fisher,” Mommy said, wiping water out of her eyes, but she was smiling, so he knew he wasn’t in trouble. “That is not how we teach Belly to swim.”
“But it’s fun!”
Another splash, and then Belly was in the pool, going up and down like one of his rubber ducks during bath time. She waved her arms and looked scared before Mommy wrapped her arms around her and helped her get on her tummy so she would float in the water.
“Good job, Belly. Now we’ll do a kick - like a bunny rabbit. I got you.”
“That’s my little bean,” Laurel cheered. He swam up to her, and she winked and petted his hair.
“Are you mad?”
“Of course not, sweetheart. You got her to go into the water. Besides, your mom needed to cool off. It’s so hot.”
“Mommy, look!” Belly said. She wiggled over to them, her arms splashing in the water. She gave him a gummy smile. “I’m swimming too.”
“Just like a mermaid,” her mommy said. She held out her arms, and Belly paddled up to her. “Not a mermaid, ‘m an otter,” she giggled.
“Okay, my little sea otter.”
Belly splashed at him. “Jere’s a duck. Quack, quack!”
“Quack,” he agreed.
They swam until their fingers and toes got all wrinkly, and his tummy started making the noise that meant it was time to eat.
Daddy was home then, and he helped Laurel make sandwiches while Mommy gave him and Belly a bath to wash off the pool smell.
The sandwiches were good but dessert was strawberry popsicles and that was yummier. Stevie ate too fast and got a headache, Connie laughed but then he got a headache too. Belly ate hers too slow and it melted all over her dress and pigtails.
“Oh, my sticky little otter girl,” Laurel said. “Let’s get you changed.”
He and his brothers helped the grown-ups clean up, but Laurel didn’t come back. He went upstairs and found Laurel in her room, walking around. Belly was asleep against her shoulder, her thumb in her mouth.
“Hi baby,” Laurel said. “Did your mommy want something?”
“No, I just wondered where you went.”
She smiled. “The day caught up to us, so I’m putting Belly down for her nap.”
“The day caught us?”
“Yes. It catches everyone, but especially little kids.” She reached down and fluffed his hair.
“I’m not little - I’m bigger than Stevie and Belly.” It was the first thing they did when they came that summer, ran to the kitchen and measured themselves against the wall. Jeremiah’s crayon color was yellow, Belly’s pink, Steven was green, and Conrad was black.
“I know,” Laurel said. “But the day catches everyone. One day, you’ll be really big and walk around with your own baby, and rock her to sleep.”
He scrunched up his face. “When I get big, I’m going to have a dog. Or a dinosaur.”
She laughed. “Oh, Jeremiah bear. I hope you never change.”
🐚 🐚 🐚
The weekend of the 4th is different, but not difficult, as he expects it to be.
Difficult like the last Thanksgiving they had together as a family, when his thoughts were full of the tweaks he could have done to the recipes, to the way his mom looked so vibrant and alive like the trials were actually working, and his dad was on his best behavior and didn’t fight with Laurel once, because they loved her and it was like he could pretend everything was normal. Even if that meant glancing over at Belly and seeing Conrad’s hand covering hers, because that was just accepting what everyone knew, since he was eleven years old: Conrad was Belly’s Prince Charming, and Mom loved a good fairytale.
Difficult, but not impossible.
A year later, weeks later, he isn’t counting the days really, he steels himself to not run to the door when he hears the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. The house is more or less back to its original state, the new paint smell subdued after opening all the windows and lighting Mom’s favorite lemon and verbena candle in every room. Conrad had pulled out every single storage container marked “4th of July” and decorated the backyard without being asked to. It was an unspoken agreement that Jeremiah would handle the cooking.
But the house is waiting for the Conklins, and he is waiting for Belly.
His phone vibrates on the counter, and he knows without looking that it’s a text from her. She and Steven took turns driving down this time, and her texts were full of ETAs and complaints about Steven driving like their grandma. He peeks out the window and sees her get out of the car, her phone pressed against her ear. Steven blocks his view briefly, then Belly walks up to the front door.
It’s showtime.
All his plans to be nonchalant and cool evaporate as soon as Belly steps inside the house. She launches herself at him, and he instinctively catches her, his eyes fluttering shut. Belly smells like pineapple and salt air, and he inhales deeply.
She squeezes his shoulders, and he opens his eyes and looks at her. Her gaze is soft and flickers down to his mouth.
“Hi,” she says softly.
“Hey,” he rasps and then coughs because they’re not alone, so he can’t show her how much he really missed her.
He puts her down quickly and steps back. “Hey guys,” he says. “Thanks for coming.”
Laurel’s smirking and Steven’s expression is hard to read, but he shrugs and opens his arms for a hug.
“We are going to play video games this weekend, right?” he says, slapping him on the back.
“Yeah. Taylor couldn’t come?”
“She’s on a girl’s trip with her Mee-Maw,” Belly says and giggles. “Atlantic City doesn’t know what it’s in for.”
“The house looks perfect, Jeremiah,” Laurel says, and she strokes his cheek. “You guys did good.”
“Thanks, Laure. Your room is the same - everybody’s room is. We tried our best to keep everything in its place.”
“I’m sure. I’m going to take a nap. These two driving did not make for a restful trip here. Let me know when you need my help with lunch.”
“Uh, I prepped food for the week already, so it’s really just a heat-and-eat situation. I put your favorite wine in the refrigerator, so it’s ready when you are.”
Laurel looks impressed. “You have Beck’s memory for details. I’ll take a glass right now.” She squeezes his shoulder as she walks past.
“Way to go on buttering up my mom,” Steven says. “Do I get a special treat too?” He bats his eyelashes, and Belly groans. “Steven, don’t be such an ass.”
She grabs her backpack and huffs up the stairs.
Jeremiah tries not to follow her with his eyes, but Steven sees anyway. “Okay, I’m going to say one thing only, and then it’s none of my business forever. I promised Taylor. And Belly, too, I guess.”
He tenses and prepares himself for the worst. He and Steven’s friendship never fully recovered to what it was, and he knows he’s to blame for some of that. He had texted Steven after dropping Belly off at volleyball camp to make sure they were okay, separate from his relationship update with Belly, and gotten a ‘we cool, still weird u think my sister is hot’ back, followed up by a 🤢
The rest of June had been logistics planning between Boston and Cousins and daily Face Times with Belly, with the one on her birthday stretching into the early morning of the next day.
Between packing, unpacking, emotionally refereeing the conversations between his dad and Conrad, and making sure everyone ate something that wasn’t just delivery pizza, he hadn’t put in as much effort into talking to Steven as he wanted to. For his part, Steven seemed fine. He still sent him links to TikToks and checked in on him, with a few texts sounding suspiciously like Taylor wrote them. But that was just texting. It was different now that he was here in person.
He tries to look nonchalant.
“Oh yeah?”
Steven crosses his arms and looks at him. “You make her really happy. Like, she walks around the house singing kind of happy. I didn’t think my sister could get any grosser, but you managed to unlock a new level of gross, so congratulations there.”
Everything past “You make her really happy” disappears into jet engine roar. Conrad could have driven his Range Rover into the living room and he wouldn’t have noticed.
Belly was happy because of him.
He can picture her singing too. Belly, wearing one of her big sleep shirts walking around her room with fluffy bed hair and hum-singing the whole Mamma Mia soundtrack, her trusty hairbrush mic pointed at him.
Even Imaginary Belly was too damn cute.
“Hello? Earth to Jere?”
Steven snaps his fingers in front of his face.
“What?”
“You’re as bad as she is,” he gripes. “Anyway. I don’t like it because I just got you and Con back. But you make her happy, and that’s what matters. Just –”
“Don’t hurt her? I know.”
“Obviously, but don’t be hurt either. Don’t let her hurt you.”
Jeremiah blinks. Steven looks at him, then sighs. “We talked a little. She told me what really went down last summer.”
He pushes his hair back on his forehead—he has wavy hair now. Maybe Taylor had him on some kind of hair regimen. It looked good, focus, dude, focus.
“And even though I think it’s messy as hell, I know it’s between you and her. And me and you,” he punches him on the shoulder, “are good. Don’t fuck it up.”
“We’re going to do our best to not hurt each other. I trust her.”
“Okay. Just don’t make me sound an air horn every time I come into a room, alright? Or my mom.”
Jeremiah shudders. “Thanks for taking a year off of my life. Trust me, I would not disrespect Laurel like that. Or Belly.”
Steven rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I know my sister is a freak, don’t even lie for her.”
“Hey, that’s my girlfriend you’re talking about -”
“She literally shat in your bathtub.”
“Man, let it go, she was six!”
They stare at each other and then laugh. Jeremiah grabs him into a bear hug. “I’m going to kick your ass at Mario Kart. It’s on, Conklin.”
Steven pounds his back. “You wish.”
He waits five minutes before he knocks on Belly’s door. It opens and he’s yanked inside.
Belly really is freakishly strong when she wants to be.
“Hey Bells—” the rest of the sentence evaporates into steam, into stunned silence. Belly stands in front of him, wearing a blue bikini set. There’s a little daisy embroidered right in the middle of the bra, where his thumb should be. Honestly, where his mouth should be, and his gaze drops down, and there’s just miles and miles of gloriously bare Belly-skin, with her sweet little hips curved in matching blue, and then her legs and the memory of said legs wrapping around him pitches him forward, and he grabs her as they fall onto her bed. There’s a slight bounce, and Belly laughs, breathy and loud.
Her hands come up and ruffle his hair, and he shuts his eyes and presses a kiss against her neck. “Belly.”
She hums, and her thighs tighten around his waist. “Jere.”
He groans, eyes fluttering open to meet her deviously innocent expression.
“You gotta warn a guy first. You in this bikini? Heart-stopping.”
“Taylor bought it for my birthday.”
“I’d say she needs to stop buying you birthday bikinis because I think that should be my job, but I am also very, very grateful.”
He kisses the smooth curve of her jaw, tasting the skin there. “I missed you.”
“I missed you more.”
He traces the curve of her upper lip with his thumb, taking in the slow pink blush, like a sunrise settles on her cheeks. He would never get tired of seeing it.
“I’m going to have to disagree with you there, Bells.”
She cups his chin and gazes at him. “Prove it then.”
“Any time.” He starts with a kiss to her forehead, sweeps his mouth against the high points of her cheekbones, with a soft kiss against the tip of her nose, which makes her giggle. He cradles her face, pressing his forehead against hers briefly.
“The house is so quiet without you,” he says. “I put on Mom’s favorite CDs and it wasn’t the same.”
“We can have a dance party every night this week, if you want,” she says. He chuckles, then tucks a wing of hair behind her ear.
“Mmm, that sounds nice. But I’d rather just dance with you.”
She winds her arms around his neck, and pulls him even closer. The part of his brain that is responsible for good decisions: memorizing ten different recipes for green juices, stretching warm ups before workouts, flossing, and regular car maintenance, sputters and blanks. Instead, he’s caught up in total Belly immersion - surrounded by her scent and the feel of her fingers at the base of his neck. Feels the soft slide of her thighs as she rolls against him, her curves perfectly aligned. She tugs his hair and he groans.
“Bells,” he chokes out. “This is not the dancing I had in mind.”
His hand trails down her side and squeezes her waist. She squirms away, laughing. “Liar.”
“Okay, a little,” he admits. “But we can’t do this in the house. I promised Steven I’d be on my best behavior this week.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Well, I didn’t.”
He sits up with some difficulty. “Trust me. I regret it, but I don’t want to give him or Laurel an excuse to judge us. And you know…”
He doesn’t say it, but she knows he’s thinking about Conrad. She should be thinking about him too if only to ask how he’s doing since he walked away from them in that motel weeks ago. The thought of him upsetting Jere is enough to drop the temperature between them by about 50 degrees. She turns away and gets off the bed.
“Come on. Ocean.” She holds out her hand. “We can figure out things after a swim.”
He smiles at her. “Sounds good.”
She waits while he changes into shorts, and they hold hands all the way down to the beach. His fingers don't let go when the first wave crashes into their legs.
After the cold shock of the ocean wears off, it’s like no time has passed at all, and they lose themselves in splashing each other. Belly’s shrieks of laughter are his favorite soundtrack to summer.
They don’t go straight back to the house. Instead, they spread their towels next to each other, and Jere pulls Belly down to sit between his legs, her back to his chest. She grabs his arms so they wrap around her waist, and he nuzzles her shoulder. Belly hums contentedly.
“I wish all the days could be like this,” she says. She traces something against his leg, and he shivers.
“Me too. One day.”
She turns to look at him, and her smile is brighter than sunshine. “When we’re big?”
It was something they picked up from their moms in childhood. Often, it was the answer to a question—“Why can’t we have ice cream for breakfast?”
That was Belly at five.
“Why can’t we stay up and watch TV?”
Jere, at eight and a half.
They got so used to one of the moms - usually Laurel telling them, “When you’re big,” that they would say it before she could.
He grins.
“Yeah.”
There’s so much more to say, and he sees in Belly’s gaze of the unspoken future they could - would have. It could wait a little longer. For now, it was perfect - just him and his girl, under a clear blue sky, watching the waves meet the shore.