i could talk to you for hours

As such, people dodged around him and the brown-haired stranger he was sobbing next to. Only a few of them grunted in annoyance when they had to side-step him.

“Sorry,” he muttered, wiping his eyes as he took a deep, hiccuping breath forcing himself to calm down. The woman had told him not to apologise, so he smiled sheepishly at her, a small shrug lifting his shoulders.

Ace listened as the woman told him all about Goose and everything he’d been up to since getting to New York. His eyes widened, heart thudding heavily in his chest as he fought not to cry again. Never did he think his little brother would cultivate a whole life for himself in another city that Ace wasn’t privy to. Who was this guy and his girlfriend? Did broody mean he was still nice to Goose? What was their cat’s name?

“Fuck,” he sniffed, running the back of his hand under his nose. Shit, that was probably gross.

“Are you meetin’ with him this Sunday? D’you think you could take me to him?” he asked. “Me and my brother came from Tulsa to find him, we haven’t seen him in months.”

The woman was still acting seemingly friendly to him, which was the only thing that turned the sudden icy feeling in Ace’s blood from freezing to slightly chilly. He swallowed nervously.

“Did he ever mention us? Gordy and me. I’m Ace. Fuck, sorry, I should’ve said that before.” He fisted a hand in the front of his hair and shook his head at himself. He gave the woman a dimpled smile, more self-deprecating than all the others he’d sent her way. “I promise I’m usually better at talkin’ to girls than I am right now.”

With a downward glance, Fliss easily tucked her hand into the purse she was holding and brandished an unopened packet of tissues. Breaking the seal and pinching a tissue free, she held it out to him. Oddly enough, it was quite the relief to see him cry. Not nearly in the same way that New Yorkers turned a blind eye to the tears of strangers on the Subway, but just in that it was refreshing to see him so comfortable in his masculinity. It hadn’t been lost on her the amount of times Goose had tried to hide his tears beneath the collar of his t-shirt during their movie dates. There was absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, quite frankly, and Fliss had always fought her father on the ridiculous ideal that crying was somehow girly. 

As she dropped the remaining tissues back into her bag, she retrieved her phone instead, mind wandering at his question. Swiping through her apps with one long, manicured finger, Fliss frowned at her calendar, lips puckered into a pretty, though albeit petulant, pout. She wasn’t seeing Goose on this particular weekend, on account of the fact that she had dinner scheduled with her father. He had some ridiculous, grand opening that he insisted on her joining him for. The last thing she wanted now was to dampen the hopes of the lovely, curly boy beside her after he’d come so far and waited so long. 

“I’m not seeing him this weekend, no,” Felicity admitted, offering him a sad smile. 

There was a brief pause as she eyed him, a curious smile brightening up her features when she heard his name. Ace. How quaint! Gordy could only be short for Gordon, which was quite regular if she did say so herself! But Goose and Ace were charming in ways that Fliss could hardly stand it. Her heart leapt in his chest as he smiled at her, gentle and dimpled and completely adorable. Even as he insisted that he was better at talking to girls, she didn’t doubt it even for a second. She was already completely won over and she’d already watched him cry on a street corner! She couldn’t even begin to imagine how delightful he must be when operating on top form. 

“Never by name, no. But he’s mentioned having brothers, he’s been very... Private, I suppose. But he’s coming out of his shell, slowly but surely,” she told him, hoping that he might find some semblance of reassurance in her words. It was all she had to offer. 

Lifting a hand, bold as ever, Fliss joined him in coaxing a hand through his curls. Only, where his movements were frantic and nervous, tugging at the ends of his luscious hair, Felicity’s were far gentler. She smoothed a hand over his hair, playfully batting his hand away before sliding her fingers along his jaw. She gave his cheek a playful pinch and looked at him, a kind smile on her face. 

“Well, Ace. I’m Fliss, and I think you’re absolutely lovely,” she promised him. Her fingers tickled his jaw as she traced soothing patterns into the space below his ear, her thumb moving to delicately swipe at a rogue teardrop that had lingered on his cheek. “Tell me, Ace. Do you and your brother have somewhere to stay? Because I’d love to help, if I can. I’m not seeing Goose this weekend, but... Perhaps you could come and stay with me? And I could help you reach out to him when the time is right?” 

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His hands tightened around his phone as he showed the picture of Goose to the brunette. He wasn’t expecting much. There was no way Goose would gravitate towards a girl like this, with her fancy coat and all her jewelry flashing out from under her shirt collar and the cuffs of her sleeves. While Ace was known for chasing pretty girls, even the ones who looked at him like he was a bug under their shoe, his little brother tended to run in the opposite direction of them. It was something they hadn’t had the chance to unpack with him before he’d disappeared.

But to Ace’s surprise, the woman’s eyes lit up in recognition.

“What?” He gaped at her. “You know Goose?”

She knew his little brother’s name. Knew him. There was a sure shortage of runaway kids called Goose in the city, Ace was certain of that. And it wasn’t like she could be pulling his leg here. He hadn’t said shit to her about Goose’s name, and it wasn’t the kind you just made up on the spot like your Michaels or your Peters or your Johns. She’d zeroed right in on Goose.

All Ace could do for a moment was stare at her as she enthusiastically explained how she knew Goose. Her little movie going mate? Ace’s mind flashed back to all the times Goose had tugged on his arm, begging him to go to a double feature with him. Ace had either been too tired or too bogged down by work or just too damn eager to get his hand under the shirt of whatever pretty face he’d been chasing that week. He’d never been harsh about letting Goose down and had always fondly ruffled his hair with the empty promise of ‘later’. In the weeks gone by since Goose’s leaving, Ace had wanted to sock himself across the jaw for not going along with his little brother to see what Newman was up to on the big screen.

“Yeah!” Suddenly, he was nodding his head enthusiastically, curls bouncing. “Yeah. Fuck. That’s Goose. Course it’s Goose, he fuckin’ loves the movies.” His face was stretched into a wide grin as he practically beamed at the girl in front of him who, by some streak of sheer dumb luck, knew his little brother that he’d been searching for for over a goddamn year now. And all this time, he’d been rubbing shoulders with this fancily-dressed New Yorker who’d evidently had no problem carving out the time in her day to watch a movie with Goose.

Suddenly, tears were leaking out of Ace’s eyes and his hands covered his face. He groaned into them. Always easy to cry, he wasn’t embarrassed, not really. But the last thing he wanted to be doing right now after finally making headway in the search for Goose was to start weeping on the street in broad daylight.

“Shit,” he hiccuped, his voice muffled by his palms. He dropped his hands and wiped at his cheeks. “Sorry. I just ain’t seen him in so long. Is he… is he okay?”

His relief and her delight were magnified tenfold when she watched him eagerly bob his head, luscious curls bouncing around on that pretty little head of his as he grinned at her. He was practically cuddling the phone to his chest, as though it were the closest link to his baby brother that he had, and Fliss conjured up a delicate image of him cradling the real Goose’s head just so. She couldn’t help but think what a lovely painting that might make some day. 

No sooner than she’d had that thought, she locked eyes with Goose’s big brother and gasped as tears spilled down his cheeks. There was something so startling about seeing the handsome stranger cry, and an immediate urge to comfort him took ahold of her just the same way she’d felt the instinct to protect and lie for Goose. It was a rare thing to see a man openly weeping in Felicity’s life – between her father and Carmen, she was surrounded by men who seemed to liken open displays of emotion to weaknesses – and her heart just ached for him. 

“Don’t you dare apologise, lovely boy,” Fliss found herself breathing as she stepped close to him. 

Even as he wiped at his cheeks, they still glistened from the sudden wave of tears that had fallen, and Felicity couldn’t help but find herself endeared. With a sad smile, she reached a hand out, unthinking, and swiped her thumb along his cheek, brushing them away. Then, in a gesture that she usually reserved for Carmen or Aubrey, she gave his head a gentle stroke, her fingers tangling momentarily in his curls. Not quite the way she’d envisioned tugging at them, but even so. 

“He’s alright, darling. We do movie nights on Tuesdays and pasta on Sundays – my treat of course,” she reassured him, smiling fondly as she thought of her fresh new routines with the young runaway. She didn’t know a lot about Goose’s roommates or his day to day, but she hoped it would be a relief to Ace to know that his brother was safe and sound. “He’s holed up with a broody man, the broody man’s girlfriend, and a gorgeous cat. He’s landed well on his two feet, has your little brother.” 

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“Nah, you’re only saying that ‘cause you don’t know how I got it,” he told the woman. He thought back to that one dusky summer evening when he was a pint-sized kid, still going by Harry. Even though it had been a painful experience, a fond smile still crossed his face when he thought back to Gordy and Ace christening him with his new nickname, the one that had stuck so solidly that even their folks had eventually come around and started calling him by it as well. 

“See, I was playin’ down by the railroad. They weren’t like the train tracks here or nothin’. We used to play chicken all the time with ‘em. Anyways, I was out by myself and tryin’ to catch frogs and my damn hand got all mangled in this trap someone had set. My brothers said I was honkin’ like a goose when they eventually came lookin’ for me. Man,” he sighed, shaking his head. “They never let me live it down. You wanna see?”

In the dim lighting of the movie theatre, he lifted his hand up a little so, with a little help from the trailers flickering on the screen, he could show his new friend the whitened, puckered scar running up his right hand, the one that had prompted him to switch to his left for writing at school, and what still caused him some problems when he spent too long painting, or even if it just got too cold outside sometimes.

He let that same hand be enveloped by Fliss’. He wondered if that was the kinda name only rich-looking New Yorkers had. It kinda seemed like a name that you could only wear if you had money. He clasped her hand with his, feeling the smooth contours of her palm, unblemished by the same divots that had cut their way into his own paint-splattered fingers. There was a real dumb part of him that wanted to make sure he didn’t have any dirt on his palm, even though he didn’t think he had.

“Fliss. S’a nice name,” he told her.

Settling back in his chair, he was half-ready to light the hell up in excitement when she began talking about how much she liked Newman. But then the conversation veered into territory that Goose had never really encountered before. Sure, he’d forced his brothers to watch this movie with him countless times and Ace had sat up quickly the moment the carwash scene came on, eyes wide and round. He’d even slapped his knee and yelled ‘now we’re talking!’ before Gordy had scuffed him upside the head with his hand. But he’d never talked about it in-depth with the dichotomy of Newman and Harmon’s looks being part of the equation. Goose felt a heavy, uncomfortable feeling settle into his stomach as he floundered for something to say that wouldn’t make him sound like a heel who didn’t know what he was talking about.

“I… yeah, I like Joy Harmon,” he said, faintly. He felt his brows furrow together of their own accord and desperately tried to smooth out his forehead, turning back to the screen as he began rambling on about whatever else he could think of.

“I first saw her in Angel In My Pocket. When I was little. My dad likes Andy Griffith,” he said, before clearing his throat. Almost apologetically. “Liked.”

She waited politely for him to finish telling his story, eyes widening in all the right places. Then, as he lifted his hand, she leaned forward, squinting in the darkness to inspect the damage. He was right, of course. He had quite the scar to show for himself. Felicity had always been quite forward, so she wasted no time in lifting a hand to trace her forefinger along it. 

“Does that hurt?” Felicity breathed, sneaking a quick glance at him. She was as nosy as anything, but she hoped the simply touch wasn’t causing him any real discomfort. “In any case, you really have been in the wars, haven’t you darling?” 

Dropping her hand, Felicity leaned back into her seat and turned her head to face him. She didn’t know Goose well at all to make an open assessment of him, but she’d seen young lads like him before. She could only assume he was late teens, maybe early 20s at a push, and she knew how eager young men such as himself were for validation, particularly where their masculinity was concerned. And especially from a beautiful woman. 

“Well, Goose. I think Joy human would have thought you were very brave. Scars are sey, you know. Women love them,” she teased, giving him a light nudge with her elbow. 

She turned her own attention back to the screen, listening intently as he talked about his parents. She frowned, then, noting the past tense. Immediately, she thought of her own parents. As often as she went to war with her father, she couldn’t imagine a world where he was no longer with them. There had once been a time where he’d had an actual, beating heart, and the very movie theater they were sat in was perfectly good proof of the fact. He’d bought it, quite simply, as a gift for her mother. 

“My mother likes Andy Griffith too,” she smiled sympathetically. “Perhaps we’ll have to bring her on down here some day, and you can both swap stories. I bet she’d love to hear all about your father’s favourites.” 

In truth, Felicity had no idea if she was saying the right or wrong thing. If her assumptions were correct, it seemed as though Goose’s parents were long gone, and there was really no correct way to deal with grief. But Fliss had very little experience with it on her own end, and she didn’t think it was fair to keep pressing the matter and boring him with half-baked apologies about a couple that she didn’t know. It would be an insult to the memory of his loved ones. 

“Is that what brought you here? Your father’s love of cinema,” she asked sweetly, taking a genuine interest. Art in all its forms was a marvel to her, and she loved hearing about what it was that had drawn them in. 

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Ace wasn’t necessarily complaining, but it sure did give him pause for thought. Normally, he was used to taking the lead when he flirted with someone. Winking at a pretty girl from across the room, or sliding an arm around the waist of a guy once he knew he wasn’t gonna get socked across the jaw because of it. This was brand new territory. It was kind of exciting though, and he was more than willing to bite.

A small voice in this head was insisting he should go check on Gordy though. Make sure his big brother wasn’t knocking on the wrong door to search for Goose, and all that. 

Gordy’s a big boy, he remembered. You’ve seen him take down three schmucks at once in a gang fight. He can handle himself.

With his guilt for not following his brother momentarily shoved aside, he focused on the girl in front of him. Calling her ‘pretty’ sure would be an understatement, but looking at the material of her jacket and the glint of her necklace peeking out from underneath her blouse, he didn’t think he was in the right sort of social class to go calling her anything else. She probably had some country-club douchebag chasing her skirt most days. Not that there was anyone around right now to stop Ace from having a little bit of fun. ‘Sides, she was pretty insistent. Ace liked that.

Now Ace knew he might be a bit of a pretty face himself, but there were no airs and graces about him. He couldn’t even put them on if he tried. Everything about him screamed dirt poor from his second hand jacket, to the dust staining the knees of his jeans, right down to the tape around his sneakers. They weren’t things you could just easily miss. Seemed like Duchess didn’t care too much about that though as she touched him freely. Ace half-expected her to scrutinise her fingertip after, searching for dirt. 

Intrigued, he leaned into her flirty little comment.

“What, you wanna test out this mop? Grew it myself and everythin’! Go on, you can give it a tug if you want,” he grinned, bowing at the waist as if offering up his hair to her.

He straightened quickly at her next comment though, a surprised laugh blowing right out of him. Man, she really didn’t beat around the bush, did she?

“No way,” he said, still laughing in sheer disbelief. He shook his head a little, then tilted his head to the side. “No offense, but is all of this like, a New York thing or just a you thing? Girls in Tulsa don’t talk like that.”

His smile faded a little when she reminded him that, just before she’d approached, he had been pouting a little. Sulking at his brother who he really didn’t want to be on the outs with. Not when they’d already lost Goose. He stuffed one hand into his pocket, while the other gave a dismissive wave.

“Aw, it ain’t nothin’... Just me and my brother got into a big of a disagreement. See…” 

He paused a little, knowing it was too much of a stretch to think that a woman with shoes like that would’ve gotten close to rubbing shoulders with his little brother. Not unless he’d stolen something from her, and Goose had never been the light-fingered sort. But he wanted to find Goose just as much as Gordy did, so he had to at least try.

“We’re actually lookin’ for our little brother. Don’t suppose you’ve seen him, but he looks like this. Real skinny. I dunno if his hair will be the same or not, but.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped on his home screen. He pointed to Goose, wedged in between him and Gordy from a trip to the cinema on his last birthday, before they’d lost Mom and Dad.

“The kid in the middle, that’s him.”

Besides, she was more than lean into this strange back-and-forth they’d already adopted. She was confident enough to know that a little hair pulling could still be on the table for later if they both played their cards right. 

“Hm. I don’t really subscribe to that whole not like other girls rubbish, but I can definitely attest to it being a me thing,” she confirmed, offering him a smile. “I’m just confident, and I know what you want. That just so happens to be you, in this particular scenario.” 

She soon sobered up, matching his somber attitude the second it became apparent that his mood hadn’t been lifted. Whatever had been getting him down was clearly fresh on his mind, and as much as Fliss loved a good flirt, she wasn’t totally lacking in empathy. Taking a tentative step closer to the stranger, she reached out and rested ahand on his forearm, giving a gentle squeeze. 

“I won’t tell a soul. Cross my heart,” she promised, filling the silence by using her index finger to slice a cross through the air, just above her heart. 

As soon as he confided in her that they’d lost their brother, her heart sank. There were many such cases all around the country, but certainly in New York. Felicity would never claim to be the most educated of all her friends, but people like Toby and Skye were far more switched on than she was. She knew there were upwards of 10,000 children reported missing around the city every year, with a huge fraction of them being runaways. Toby’s previous line of work and Skye’s journalism meant they were both privy to some of the ugliest, harshest facts about the real world. Fliss didn’t like to turn a blind eye, not like her father. 

She wasn’t sure how helpful that information would be to the man in front of her, though. It would hardly be helpful to frighten him with facts and figures as good as declaring his little brother a lost cause. To live in hope could surely never be a bad thing, could it? As she deliberated over the information, he pulled his phone free, pulling up an image of his baby brother, presumably hoping that Fliss might be able to help him. She highly doubted that – she didn’t know a lot of children that weren’t direct relatives, and even then she wasn’t exactly prone to spending time with them. 

When her gaze finally strayed to the image on the screen, however, Fliss let out a gasp, before clasping her hands together in undiluted glee. That was no small child wedged between them. For once in her life, she might genuinely be able to help someone. Well, if her father could see her now! 

“Now, hold on! That’s my gorgeous little buddy, Goose!” Fliss told him, beaming wide as she reached for his arm again.  

This time, she shuffled closer, peering down at the sweet photo of the three of them. Goose was notably younger, looking sweet and bashful with rosy cheeks as the third brother – blonder, a little scruffier looking – peered down at him with a fondness that looked out of place on his harder features. 

“He’s my little movie mate,” she proudly proclaimed, glancing back up at the handsome stranger – Goose's brother. 

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