Текст книги "Until We Fly"

Автор книги: Courtney Cole

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter Nineteen

Brand

Days are seamless here now.

We chat on the porch, we sit on the pier, we lie together in the hammock at night, watching the stars.

Each day, I think Nora will confide in me.

Each day, I think she’ll trust me enough to tell me what William did to her. I know, in my gut, what it was. But I can’t know it for a fact until she tells me.

Each day, she doesn’t.

Each night, I hold her until she falls asleep.

Each night, I try and steel myself against her, to keep from getting sucked in further.

Each day, I try not to trust the feelings that are growing, the attachment, the tenderness, the bond.

Each day, I realize I’m failing.

Nora

I watch Brand sleeping on the couch with a book on his chest. He’d fallen asleep an hour ago and ever since, I’ve watched him.

He’s so peaceful when he sleeps, his face so open.

I could watch him all day and all night.

But my phone dings, distracting me, filling my heart with dread.

I know… I know… the other shoe is getting ready to drop.

These past days have been too good, too comfortable, too perfect.

I approach my phone, and as innocuous as it seems lying on the kitchen counter, it might as well be poison, because when I pick it up and read William’s words, the toxin runs through my veins, pulsing through my heart.

I want to see you. Sunday. In the conference room of Greene Corp, just you and me. 2pm. Be there. You don’t want to know what will happen if you don’t show up. But here’s a hint: It involves your boyfriend.

I knew he’d been threatening Brand the other night with his text. You and your boyfriend fucked up.

I knew it. And I’ve been waiting with bated breath, every day, to see what he was going to do.

And here it is.

I’ve been summoned.

I’ll finally know.

I glance at Brand and I literally have to fight the urge not to shudder over what I’ve done. Being here could’ve put him at risk. Every day I wanted to tell him, every day I didn’t .

Each day, he’s been nicer and nicer to me, making it impossible for me to want to ruin it.

I didn’t want this fake little bubble that we’ve built here to burst… even though it was never real in the first place.

I should’ve told Brand from the very beginning that I’m encased in a bubble, my bubble is made of Swarovski crystal, and at the whim of my uncle or my father, I would drop to the floor and shatter.

But I didn’t.

Because I’m too selfish.

But the clock was ticking… seconds, hours, days.

And the time has come.

The other shoe is going to drop.

Chapter Twenty

Nora

I can’t let him go.

I watch him as he sits on the beach, staring at the fucking buoy that taunts him.

I know I should. I know I should cut the strings right now and walk away, but I’m not strong enough. I need him.

I need him.

Something has changed in him, something important, but I don’t know what. His expressions soften whenever he looks at me and I can feel the change when he holds me at night. He’s tender and his touch is ever so soft, a glaring contrast to the hardness of his body.

He’s a trained killer, an Army Ranger. He’s capable of so many dangerous things, but when he’s with me, his touch is feather light. Careful.

Like I might break, like he suspects that I’m made from crystal, like he wants to protect me from shattering.

Warmth gushes through me at the thought.

Somehow, he’s opened himself to me. He wants me. And as much as I thought I couldn’t expose him to me, because I might taint him, and somehow take his goodness away, he’s still Brand.

He sleeps with me every night, and he’s still as good as he ever was.

Is it possible that I could be with him and not tarnish him?

Am I delusional to even hope?

There would be complications, of course, but there always is in life. He sees me for who I am. And he doesn’t ask questions. He just sees me.

My heart wants to burst from the mere happiness of it all.

So much so that I want to do something for him.

Right now.

Before the other shoe drops and my world crashes down.

While I’m still strong.

Before I break on the floor in front of him into a million pieces.

I get up and march outside, straight to where Brand sits.

“Call that lawyer,” I tell him. “We’re taking care of this today.”

Brand stares up at me in surprise, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

“What do you mean? Take care of what?”

I put my hands on my hips.

“I know I told you to handle your father’s will however you want to handle it. And I meant that. But I know you, Brand. You don’t back down from anything. Ever. Ring the bell, Brand. And don’t ring it for him… ring it for you. Ring it so that you can put all of that ugliness behind you– so that from now on, whenever you see a lake or an ocean or a buoy… you won’t think of ugliness. I’m going to swim with you. We’re going to do it together. Because I’m with you, Brand. I’m with you.”

He stares up at me, dumbfounded and then he simply nods.

“Okay.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Okay?”

He nods. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

He pulls out his phone, punches in a number and waits.

“Todd? Come out to the beach. I’m taking a swim this morning.”

He slips the phone back into his pocket and gets up.

“Should you wear a bathing suit, or are you planning on making Todd’s day?”

I roll my eyes and laugh and we stroll to the house to change.

“You don’t have to give everything to your mom, you know,” I tell him. “You can do whatever you want with it. You need to take this swim for you, Brand. Not for her, not for him and not for me. You need this… to be free from them.”

He stops, turns and pulls my face to his, kissing me as thoroughly as I’ve ever been kissed.

He pulls away and doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. Everything he had to say was in that kiss.

We change and head back down to the beach. Todd arrives a few minutes later, holding a paper in his hand.

“It has to be from the beach behind your parents’ house,” he announces without preamble. “That’s part of the stipulation.”

“Fine,” Brand tells him, and without another words, stalks down the beach. He’s barely even limping.

I follow behind, and before long, we’re standing behind Brand’s childhood home. The buoy looms huge and haunting out in the lake, tilting with the waves. I shudder when I think that his sister died out here…. and that his father used to beat him right where I’m standing.

I feel someone staring at me, and as I look over my shoulder, I see Bethany Killien standing at her windows, watching us. Her face is set, and firm, and I don’t see any softness there. I shiver, and turn back around.

Today isn’t about her.

I grab Brand’s hand.

“Let’s do this.”

He nods.

And then he walks straight into the water, as if he’d never ever been scared of it. He dives under the surface with purpose and for a moment, I forget that I’m supposed to be swimming with him. All I can do is watch the strength with which he glides through the water, his strong arms pulling him through, stroke after stroke.

I’m mesmerized for a moment, until I remember that I’m supposed to be with him, so I follow his lead and dive into the surf.

* * *

Brand

The water is frigid, of course. Because it always is. It doesn’t matter if it’s August or November, Lake Michigan always feels like ice water.

But I don’t flinch or hesitate. I plunge in, and swim toward that motherfucking buoy.

Each time I surface, I take a breath and dive back in.

The water is clear, and cold, and everything I detest. But with each stroke, I realize that it isn’t the water I detest. It isn’t the lake. It isn’t even that fucking buoy.

It’s my father.

With every stroke, I shove his memory further away, decimating his power over me.

He doesn’t control me anymore. I’m not the kid that I used to be.

Nora’s right.

He’ll never control me again.

With strong, even strokes, I approach the buoy, gulp for air, and then explode through the surface, grabbing onto it. I cling to the buoy for a second, before I violently shake it, to and fro.

The bell rings out clearly, into the air, all the way to the beach. I glance toward my parents’ house and see the curtains of the living room fold close. My mother had been standing there, but she walked away.

That’s fine. I’d expect nothing less.

I ring the bell again, then again.

The sound is eerie and haunting and if I concentrate hard enough, I can almost envision my little sister standing on the beach, waving at me.

I smile at the thought, at the memory of Allison. Through all of my father’s beatings, at least he could never take that away. I loved my sister, and she loved me, and it wasn’t my fault that she died.

Ring the bell, Brand.

I ring it one more time, hard and fast.

Consider it rung, asshole.

Nora reaches me now and flings herself at me, and we both cling to the buoy. She’s wet and excited and wraps her arms around my neck, kissing me hard.

“You did it!” she cries out. “You did it.”

I know there was never a question. I was going to do it. I’m no pussy.

But I kiss her back and don’t say a word.

“Let’s go back to shore,” I finally tell her when we break for air. “I hate this fucking buoy.”

She laughs and we swim for shore. I chase her and grab her foot, she laughs and twists in the water. It’s as if I’m free now. Free from the constraining hate, free from the bitterness, free from all of it.

But then we reach the shore and reality awaits.

Todd waits.

My mother waits.

She’s come out of the house now and stands disapprovingly on the shore with the attorney, watching Nora and I frolic in the water.

“I’m glad you’re taking this so seriously,” she says icily, looking down her nose at us.

Nora’s head snaps back and before I can stop her, she stalks over to my mother and stares down at her.

“You have no right,” Nora snaps, each word a pellet of ice. “You have no right to even be here. You have no right to hate Brand. You have no right to him at all. You don’t have the right. You forfeited any rights to him years ago. If he gives you anything at all, it will be a miracle, because you don’t deserve it.”

I grab her elbow and pull her away. “Come on,” I tell her firmly. “She’s not worth it.”

“Does your girlfriend know that you killed your sister?” my mother calls from behind us. The words stab me in the back and I stop, frozen in place, before I turn.

“She knows everything.”

With that, I start to walk away again, but my mother just can’t help herself. She has to keep prodding.

“Everything?”

The meaning of that one word is clear. Crystal fucking clear.

Everything. By everything, she of course means that my entire life is a lie. Everything I am, everything I’ve become… is a lie. In her eyes, anyway. Because she believes me to be a monster.

I’m frozen.

Completely still.

And Bethany Killian is as foreign to me as a stranger. She laughs.

“I didn’t think so.”

She spins on her heel and starts to walk back into the house, and anger wells up in me, red and hot, a fury that I haven’t felt in years. It’s so fierce that it clouds my vision, it’s everything I have bottled up inside of me….all the anger that I’ve been carrying with me for so many years.

It explodes within me like a volcano.

“Mom?” The word is as foreign to me as she is.

She stops, and turns halfway around. She doesn’t answer, but she looks at me.

“Go pack a bag. You have five minutes.”

Now she speaks. “What?”

“You heard me. Go pack a bag.”

She takes a step. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to. Go. Pack. A. Bag. Take anything you want from the house. It will be the last time you’re inside.”

My mother looks at me uncertainly, and for the first time, I see a real emotion on her face. Fear.

She’s afraid to believe that I’m serious.

“You’re not kicking me out of my own house,” she says hesitantly, her eyes searching mine. “You wouldn’t.”

I have to fight a sneer. “I wouldn’t? Why wouldn’t I? What exactly have you brought me in life except for pain? Tell me that. Tell me one good thing you’ve ever done for me, and I’ll let you stay.”

My mother stares at me, looks away at the lake, lifts her chin and stares back at me.

“I brought you into this world.”

I shake my head. “Wrong answer. You brought me into the world, true. But I didn’t ask for that. And once I was born, you didn’t do a thing for me. It was bad before Allison died, but after that, it was unbearable. Not only did you allow my father to beat the shit out of me every time he came home drunk from the bar, but you tried to make a helpless kid believe that he killed his sister. You’re the fucking monster, not me.”

My mother’s eyes turn icy and she glares at me. “You did kill your sister. You heard her, Brand. I know you heard her and you let her walk into the lake. You could’ve stopped her, but you didn’t.”

An eerie calmness descends upon me and for once, I don’t feel rage as I look upon my mother.

“I was six years old. I was upstairs asleep. I realize that when bad things happen, people blame someone when they’re grieving. It’s human nature. But to focus your grief and your rage on a six-year old kid… that was unforgivable.”

My mother’s eyes water and she looks away.

“My daughter died, Brand. You could’ve saved her… if only you’d listened for her. You were supposed to watch out for her. She was your little sister.”

Her voice dwindles off and she wipes at her eyes. Nothing in me softens at her show of sadness.

“I was six years old,” I reply. “You were supposed to watch out for her. Dad forgot to lock the door, not me. All of these years, if you had to have someone to blame, you should’ve blamed him. If you really are too small of a person to realize that sometimes accidents happen. Bad things happen. And sometimes there’s simply no one to blame. You’re a small, small person.”

“My daughter died,” she whimpers.

“Your daughter did die,” I tell her coldly. “But you didn’t have to lose both your children that night. That was a decision that you made. You’re paying for that decision now. Go inside and get your things.”

She looks up in disbelief and I see it in her eyes… she thought her show of tears would sway me. She was only trying to pull my strings… once again. Just like when I was a kid and she tried to make me believe I was a monster, that I’d killed my sister, that my father was only doing what he ‘had to do’ when he was beating me.

My blood chills as I look at her and all I can feel is distaste. For my own mother. Even worse, I see the exact same emotion in her eyes as she stares back at me.

She hates me and it is apparent.

“Go.” I repeat. My voice is like ice.

She spins around and stalks away. I watch her disappear into the house, I watch the old peeling door slam behind her, I watch how the windows of the house seem to mock me, like large eyes that watched my father beat me on the beach, time and time again. This house is a tomb of bad memories. And I don’t think I can look at it any longer. In fact, I don’t even want it to exist.

I want all of it to just go away.

I turn to Nora.

“Could you do me a huge favor? Could you run down to the cottage and get the gas can from the garage and a box of matches?”

Nora stares at me, paralyzed.

“Please?” I prod.

She nods, confusion in her eyes, but she doesn’t question me. She just takes off running down the beach barefoot. I watch her for a minute, then turn to the attorney.

“The house is mine now, correct?”

Todd nods. “Yes. Everything in it. And the woodshop and the garage in town. And the assets from the business. Everything.”

“Good.”

Todd eyes me uncomfortably. “What are you planning?”

I level a gaze at him. “A bonfire.”

He stares back in apprehension. “That’s arson.”

“Not if I don’t make an insurance claim,” I tell him. “I simply want to get rid of the house so that I can clear this land and start fresh. I might even build another house here in the future. So that’s not arson. That’s demolition.”

“You need a permit for demolition, son.”

I narrow my eyes. “I’m not your son. And if Angel Bay PD wants to fine me, so be it.”

Todd continues to stare at me uncertainly. “Okay. Well, this is yours now, too.”

He hands me the key to the wooden box my father left for me and I shove it in the pocket of my swim trunks. I’ll deal with that later.

Nora returns just as my mother walks down the steps with a suitcase in her hand. She jogs up to me with the gas can and matches, and my mother’s eyes widen, the first real reaction I’ve seen from her.

I walk up to her.

“Mom, I loved you for the longest time, long after you stopped deserving it. I don’t hate you now. I don’t. But I’m done with everything toxic in my life, and that includes you. I’m going to sign over dad’s business to you. I’m going to give you the money he had in the bank, his truck, his workshop. But I’m not giving you this house. I’m getting rid of every bad memory I have of this place today.”

She sputters and then stops as she sees the expression on my face.

“You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.”

Without another word, I shake gasoline out of the can all over the porch and fling it up on the walls.

I look at my mother.

“You might want to get back.”

She takes a step back, then another.

I pause. “I know that I’ll probably never see you again after you leave here today. And I’m okay with that. I can’t deal with the all the toxins of my childhood anymore. If you ever want to have a real relationship with me, the normal kind of mother-son relationship, then look me up. Until then, take care of yourself.”

I turn away and my mother hurries to her car without a word. She drives away without looking back and I have no doubt that I’ll never see her again.

It does hurt, but I swallow it, because I know I have to let it go. If I’m ever going to get past everything that happened here, I have to let it all go.

I toss a match onto the house.

It ignites immediately and the heat presses against us, trying to push us away from it, almost like it’s trying to protect itself from destruction.

It doesn’t work, because I toss another match, then another.

It burns quickly.

I watch the flames lick at the sky, the smoke spiraling into the heavens. Every bad memory I have spirals away with it. One after the other, after the other.

It’s surprisingly cleansing and with every board that burns, I feel weights being lifted from my shoulders.

I’m not guilty of anything. And I’ll never have to look at anything or anyone again who tries to pretend otherwise.

Nora comes up from behind and wraps her arms around my waist as we watch it burn. Her cool arms bring comfort, the kind of comfort that only comes from someone who accepts me for who I am.

“You ok?”

I nod. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

We watch the flames for a while, the oranges and blues and reds, before we walk away, down the beach to the only house that ever truly felt like home to me.

Chapter Twenty-One

Nora

I can’t believe that just happened.

Brand literally burned his past down.

It’s astounding. Overwhelming. Exhilarating.

And it’s nothing short of what I would expect from him. He’s so decisive. When he takes control of something, he doesn’t do it halfway. The mere thought sets my belly aflutter.

I hear the shower running as Brand washes away the lake water, the ash from the fire and probably some bad memories, too. I know how that goes. I curl up on the sofa and give him his privacy. He deserves some solitude after what he just did.

As I lay still, I can’t help but stare at the little wooden box.

It’s fascinating to me. Ebony wood with an ivory inlay. Black and white. I have to wonder if his father did that on purpose…. Did he contrast black with white as an analogy for life? Life isn’t black and white.

Unable to stop myself, I pick it up, turning it over and over. I shake it lightly.

There’s a solid clunking noise inside. Something in the box has some heft. With a man as hateful as Joe Killien apparently was, it’s hard telling what he put in the box.

I get goose bumps as I remember horror movies of the past… when body parts and worse have been sent as messages. Quickly, I set the box down.

Surely Joe didn’t put a body part in the box, but I’m not sure that I want to know what actually is in there.

“I’m curious too,” Brand says from the hallway. I turn to find him standing there, a towel slung around his waist. I’d been studying the box so intently, I hadn’t even heard the shower water turn off.

He takes a few steps into the room, his strong calves flexing with his movement. Each movement he makes is so lithe and controlled. He picks up the box and turns it over in his large hands.

“I want to know, but yet I don’t want to give him that satisfaction,” he finally says, turning to me. “Does that make any sense? I know he’s gone and he’ll never know if I look or not. But I’ll know.”

“So you’re not ever going to look?” I ask quietly, in a tiny bit of disbelief. Because I know I’d never have that kind of willpower. I’d have to know. Even if what was inside killed me or fueled my guilt or hate. But this is just one more way that Brand and I are different. He’s got willpower. I don’t.

Brand shrugs and sets the box aside. “I don’t know. Maybe I will. But see, it’s taken me years to get to the place where I don’t care what he thinks, or what he says. I think it’s something inborn in every person…. you need the approval of your parents. For better or worse, you need to know that you’ve met their expectations, that you are good enough. I know that I never will. And that’s something I’ve had to let go of—and get past. It’s taken me a long time.”

“But anyone would be proud of you,” I begin to argue, but Brand holds up his hand.

“You don’t have to do that. I know all the arguments. Jacey used to argue the same things. When I graduated West Point with honors, they didn’t come. They didn’t send a card. They didn’t acknowledge it at all. I threw a party with Jacey and Gabe. When I made the Rangers, they didn’t say anything, and again, I celebrated with Jacey and Gabe. But at the same time, I didn’t write home and tell them, either. It’s been a two-sided road. I haven’t held up my part, but neither did they.”

I shake my head and interrupt because he can’t stop me. “But they gave you very good reasons to stay away. Your father beat you. Your mother didn’t stop it…”

Brand nods. “Yeah, I know. But life is fucked up. People get hurt, people are scarred, people are damaged and sometimes, things aren’t meant to be fixed.”

“And you’re afraid if you looked in the box, it might mess up your resolution?”

He nods. “I guess. I just don’t want to have to start back at square one and try to forgive them again.”

I suck in a breath. “Have you forgiven them?”

He stares out the window. “I don’t know. I try. But I guess, mostly, I just continually put it out of my mind so that I don’t have to think about it.”

“That’s denial,” I tell him needlessly.

He smiles grimly. “I know. But it works for me right now. So I’m not going to look in the box…not right now. I don’t need to. There are other things I need to worry about. More important things.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Such as?”

Brand grins. “Lunch. I’m starving.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re always starving.”

“Lunch at the Hill?” he asks, his eyes twinkling. I nod.

“It’s a date,” he tells me and he disappears back down the hall to get dressed.

It’s a date.

A date with Brand Killien.

Gah. Oh how the worm turns in life, from one moment to the next. You never know what’s going to happen.

I pull my hair back into a low ponytail and within twenty minutes, Brand and I are walking into The Hill.

Together.

I’ve got my arm looped through his and Maria looks up from the cash register, her face lighting up like fireworks when she sees Brand.

She rushes to him, kissing his cheeks and muttering Italian endearments. He smiles and hugs her and she shows us to a table by the window.

“You let me know if I can get you anything else,” she tells him before she bustles away. “I’ll get you a special dessert.”

I look at Brand over the top of my menu. “She really likes you.”

“She’s very loyal. She doesn’t forget it when someone has done something for her. All I did was move her daughter’s stuff to college.”

“And come and help her cut brush, and do a bunch of other stuff outside after her husband died,” I add. He glances up at me, surprised. I shrug. “She told me last time. You did a lot for her.”

“And so did Gabe and Maddy, and even Jacey,” Brand says simply. “Maria’s good people. So was Tony.”

We fall silent as we decide what to eat, then hand our menus over after we order.

Brand stares out the window. “I always forget how much I do like this little town,” he muses absently. “I always associate it with ugliness because of my parents, but I had good times here, too. I spent most of every summer down at the Vincents’ place. Gabe and Jacey shared their grandparents with me. They were good people, too. Their gran has always been the mom I never had.”

Something about that statement and the softness in his eyes at the mere mention twinges my heart.

“I’m glad you had that with them,” I tell him honestly. “It sounds like they filled a void in your life.”

And oh my god, how I wished I could have helped do that. I was here every summer too. Only I was four years younger and back then… well, that might as well have been an ocean of time.

Brand nods. “Yeah. Their gran taught me a lot. She was full of good advice. She still is, actually. She’s in a nursing home in Chicago.”

I take a sip of water. “What kind of advice? I’m afraid I grew up without much of that. My father is very focused on business and my mother… well, she’s very focused on trying to put on the appearances that everything is fine in the Greene household. There wasn’t much sage advice floating around.”

Brand looks at me. “Well, Gran taught me everything I know about women.”

This definitely catches my attention. “And what is that?”

He smiles. “There’s too much to list. She never hesitated to share her opinion.”

The affection on his face at her memory warms my heart. They say that if you watch a man with his mother, it’s a good indication of his character. But I know that if I’d seen Brand with his ‘gran’, that I’d have known all I ever needed to know about him.

“Well, share a couple of things,” I urge him. “Remember, I didn’t get much advice. I can borrow yours.”

He chuckles. “Well, I’m not sure how helpful it will be for you. She focused a lot on advice about women….on what I need to know.”

I wait.

He sighs. “Okay. Well, she said that women don’t always know what they want, but they almost always know what they don’t want. Sometimes it takes them a while to narrow it down by elimination.”

I ponder that, then nod. “Yeah. She’s right about that one. What else?”

“One time, when we were about sixteen or so, Gabe and I were at the beach with her. Apparently, I was staring at some girl in a bikini, and Gran slapped me on the back of the head and told me that women weren’t ‘vaginas with legs’. I then got a lecture about how women are more than just sex. It was the most humiliating discussion of my life.”

I giggle at the mere thought. “Did Gabe get the talk too?”

Brand nods. “Yeah. He wanted to die. There we were, right out on the beach in front of God and everyone, including hot chicks in bikinis, and his grandma was talking about sex.”

I giggle again. “She sounds awesome.”

“She is,” Brand says firmly.

Our waitress refills our drinks and I look at Brand.

“Did she give you any other valuable advice, or was it all about women?”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, for a teenage boy, trust me, it’s always about the women.”

I stare at him drolly. He smirks.

“I wish I’d paid more attention to the things she told me back then,” he admits. “She was really a wise lady, and unfortunately, because I was a stupid kid, I didn’t remember it all. But there was something she told me once, after some girl broke my heart, that has always stuck with me.”

I wait.

He doesn’t say anything.

“And that was?” I prod.

“Well, this chick had screwed me over in a big way. She was pretty messed up. And I’d come to the conclusion that women weren’t worth it, that they were more trouble than they were worth.”

“I can see where you might think that sometimes,” I nod. “What did your Gran say?”

“She said… Branden, the best things in life are worth the greatest risk. Sometimes, before we fall, we fly.”

I stare at him, at the smile that lingers on his lips, and I can’t help but fall just a little bit in love with this big strong man that has held onto such a sentiment from his ‘adopted gran’.

Knowing him now is so different from being wildly in love with him as a teen.

There’s so much more to him than I’d ever have guessed before.

“That’s beautiful,” I tell him simply. “You’re right. She was very wise.”

Brand nods. “She never pulled any punches. She warned me away from her own granddaughter, too.”

This freezes my hand on my glass.

“What?” I manage to ask.

Brand chuckles. “She was very perceptive. She knew, even before I did, that I was falling for Jacey a long time ago. And she pulled me aside and in her very direct way, she told me that Jacey wasn’t ready for a guy like me. That maybe she never would be… because Jacey needed someone to tame her. I was offended at first, because I thought she was saying that I wasn’t man enough to do it.”

That’s what it sounded like to me, too, and I have to wonder if Gran even knows him at all.

“Then what did she mean?” I ask curiously.

“She said that I had a soft spot for Jacey and that I’d never be able to give her the tough love that would fix her. She said I’m the type of guy who will come to your rescue when I’m needed, and it wouldn’t be fair to me if I was with Jacey, because I’d always be coming to her rescue. She said I need someone more considerate than that, someone who has their act together.”

I swallow hard. “I think your Gran really was wise. She nailed you to a T.”

But I don’t have my act together.

Brand shrugs. “I don’t know about that. But she was right about Jacey. I came to her rescue a hundred times over the years. If I’d been ‘with’ her, it would’ve been a hundred more. So, Gran was right.”

Our food arrives now and as I’m eating the steaming pasta, I can’t help but consider that.

Brand really is the kind of guy to come to a girls’ rescue. And Lord knows that my life is fucked up. If he were with me, really with me, he’d constantly feel like he needed to save me.