Attached to You

by Lindsay Paige

  My muscles tense and my fingers freeze on Otis’s head. “How do you know about that?” Otis nudges my wrist, wanting me to keep rubbing. I get back to making him happy.

  “Maryann told me. Brayden, how exactly does that equate to not finding a balance, which is what you told me?” Her tone is full of accusations. You’d think I did her wrong and not some other girl.

  I sigh. “Because work was the priority. Why does that even matter? What does that have to do with us?”

  “Do you even see a future of any kind for us?”

  For fuck’s sake, why do women have to bounce around from one topic to another like a pinball? “Of course I do,” I answer. “Where is this coming from?”

  “That’s not what you said at Thanksgiving. You said you hadn’t thought of a future.”

  “I was talking about kids!” I interrupt.

  Deanna keeps talking, ignoring my interruption. “So, in my head, I have that comment, how your mother said you broke up with your last girlfriend because you thought she got in the way of your career, and the fact that for the most part, I make poor decisions when it comes to life. On top of all of that, I run into one of those slime bags who doesn’t hesitate to remind me because he’s an asshole after all. And then, I thought I was pregnant.”

  “What?” The word is loud and full of shock in my head, but it leaves my mouth in a mere whisper.

  “I’m not, but I thought I was, which is why I ran here. My period was just late for some reason. Before it started, I couldn’t help but think about all those things my mother wrote, how I definitely don’t want to be a mom right now, and how you most certainly don’t want to be a dad. Afterward, I felt guilty and really couldn’t deal.”

  Her words take two minutes to sink in. “You don’t trust me.”

  She doesn’t say a word, and I give her ample time to speak. Finally, she does say, “I don’t trust myself either.”

  I stand and move to the edge of the porch, leaning against the railing as I face her. “What the fuck, Deanna? Having doubts is one thing, but thinking you’re pregnant and fucking running? Ignoring me for days? And when I finally see you, you’re throwing my past against me when it has absolutely nothing to do with you?” She opens her mouth to object. I lunge forward and grab the armrests of the rocking chair, my face an inch from hers. Otis stands between our knees, but I ignore him.

  “When have I put my job first with you? If you can name one fucking time, then you might have something to bitch about, but you don’t. Even then, what I did over five years ago with another woman has no relevance in our relationship.” I stand upright and put the space between us. “What you did before you met me? Has no meaning in our relationship either as far as I’m concerned. Stop worrying about the past and focus on how you’re fucking things up right now. You keep testing my patience, Deanna, and I’m running out of it. You either want to be with me and you work through it, or you don’t and you walk away. And if you’re sure you want to be with me, you don’t ever fucking run.

  “You commit. You go all in. It doesn’t matter how scared you are or how many doubts you have. You stay. It’s the only way to make it worth your while.” I walk over to the steps. “I have to go. You make up your mind once and for all. And for the record, I’m not the kind of asshole who dumps you because you’re pregnant, but it’s nice that you wondered if I would.” I walk down the steps and get into my car without glancing back at the porch.

  Pissed doesn’t begin to cover how I’m feeling right now. I might not choose to give everything my full attention, or commit to it one hundred percent, but when I do, I don’t back down from any challenges that arise along the way. I’m all in all the time. And I don’t like others who aren’t. I didn’t figure Deanna to be one of those people who committed and then half-assed it. That’s essentially what she’s done by running.

  That is not how you handle things. Was she even thinking when she ran out? When she read each of my texts, was it easy for her to ignore them? I don’t understand what kind of person can simply walk away from a commitment without a word. I’ve been busting my ass to make sure Deanna comes first, that I don’t make the sames mistakes that I have in the past because I want to be with her so much, and she’s done nothing but wait anxiously for the other shoe to drop. She’s the one who threw it down onto the ground!

  I’ll admit my faith in myself flounders from time to time, but my faith in Deanna? It never wavered. Trusting someone else can be easier than trusting yourself. At least, I thought so. Deanna appears to trust neither herself nor me just as equally. Again, it pisses me the hell off. She’s sentencing our relationship based on my past crimes with someone else.

  Grabbing my phone, I call my mom.

  “Brayden,” she answers happily. “How are you?”

  “What in the hell were you doing talking about Wendy with Deanna?”

  Mom’s voice hardens. “Don’t talk to me in that tone of voice, Brayden. Tell me what has you upset.”

  “Deanna has gone off the rails, in part because you told her more than I did about what happened with Wendy. She doesn’t trust my word anymore. Since when do you meddle and get involved when it’s none of your fucking business?” I pull into my driveway and head inside, knowing exactly what I want to do: run on the treadmill.

  “I know you’re pissed, but I’m not going to warn you again. I don’t care how old you are, I’m your mother and you’re being disrespectful using that language with me. All I did was ask her what she wanted and she instead asked me what you wanted. I told her you already had what you wanted because you had her and Otis. I may have said too much, and I’m sorry. Do you want me to talk to her?”

  “No. I think you talking to Deanna has done more than enough. I gotta go. Love you.” I hang up without waiting for her to tell me goodbye.

  ***

  Otis whines as Brayden’s truck turns around in the driveway to leave. He glances at me with big, sad eyes. He’s already leaning his big body against my legs and now, he rests his head in my lap. I scratch behind his ears and bend down to kiss him on the top of his head. “I’m sorry, Otis. It’s my fault he didn’t stay long. I’ll figure out how to fix things somehow.”

  He huffs, almost as if telling me I better figure it out. I glance toward the driveway, but Brayden’s truck is nowhere to be seen now. He was pissed and he seemed so very disappointed in me. He lectured me as if I should know better and startled me a bit when he got in my face. It’s not as if I was actively choosing to mess things up. All I did was react to the situation presented before me.

  My knee-jerk reaction sucks, to say the least.

  The relief over not being pregnant is long gone. Guilt replaced the relief. I was so focused on myself and needing to get away that not once did I consider the ramifications of my actions on my relationship with Brayden. How selfish can I be?

  Pretty damn selfish, as it turns out.

  Coming here was supposed to help calm me down. Instead, I lost all faith in Brayden and in myself. My thoughts spiraled out of control until I became certain that he would never put me first. He even stopped trying to contact me while he was gone. What is wrong with me? I ignore him and then damn him when he gives up?

  I thought I felt guilt before from panicking over the various possible reactions Brayden might have if we were indeed having a kid? Guilt drowns me now, suffocating me and inducing a hell of a lot of panic. Despite all of this, I don’t want to lose Brayden; I never did. My head hasn’t caught up to my heart yet, and that’s what I keep tripping over. Sighing, I stand and we head inside.

  There’s a stupid quilt wall hanging that your eyes naturally land on when you enter my grandma’s house. It’s covered in hearts and in the middle, so big it’s impossible to ignore, it says, “Follow your heart.”

  “Yeah, yeah, Grandma. Easier stitched than done.”

  How can I fix this? Maybe I should attend the game tonight. A taxi could drop me off, which would either force him into taking me home a
nd spending some time with me, or he’d ignore me altogether and a taxi could take me straight to a bar. But should I bombard him at his work? It’ll show I’m willing to work this out, right? It can’t hurt, I don’t think.

  Oh, fuck it. I’ll go and hope for the best.

  On that line of thought, I clean up the house and pack my things to leave. I’ve been gone long enough anyway. The quilt shop is calling my name. On top of everything else, it always makes me uneasy to leave it in the hands of someone else. This almost feels ridiculous. Never before in my life have I had to grovel before. There’s a first time for everything, I guess.

  Later, I’m surrounded by Meredith Ramsey, Lizzy Polinski, Sydney Rhett, and Raelynn Woods. I texted Brayden earlier to let him know I was coming, but he probably won’t see it until after the game. Raelynn is here with Jackson and Bree, and it looks like Sydney has her kids here, too. Sylvia’s kids are here, though she isn’t. Maybe Lizzy brought them. Between them and others, the box is stuffed.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” Raelynn leans over to whisper in my ear. “Elias said he doubted you’d be here. Jackson has been dying to come to a game, but I am so out of my comfort zone here.”

  I smile and glance to her son, who sits in my lap, leaning forward as he gazes down at the action on the ice. “I’m glad I decided to come, too. You have a friend in me anytime.” I’ll give her my number before the night is over with.

  She seems uneasy about letting the ladies fawn over Bree, but I’ve assured her they are cool, and she nodded, telling me that EJ told her they would likely do so. I’m not sure why she’s uneasy then. The babies, both Bree and Sydney’s little boy, Andrew, aren’t even the cutest attraction tonight. Not in my opinion, at least.

  Jackson has Stella practically stuck to his side. He glances at his mom and me for help, but the little girl isn’t doing anything but talking about the game. He sort of reminds me of Brayden. Except Brayden will stay in a situation, even if he’s uncomfortable. Jackson wants out.

  “She’s teaching you about the game, Jackson,” Raelynn eventually says. “You better listen. She knows way more than I do.”

  His shoulders slump and Stella smiles at him. He stops sending help me looks to his mom after that. Having them here keeps me from wondering what will happen after the game. How will Brayden react when he sees me? Will he pretend to be happy to put on a show for the others? No, I can’t see him doing that. He’ll likely give me a sour look that will leave the gossip lovers dying to know more.

  I sigh.

  “Is everything okay?” Raelynn asks.

  “Yeah, just thinking. How do you like being a nanny?”

  “Honestly?”

  I shrug. “You can lie. I don’t mind.”

  She laughs. “It doesn’t seem real to have a job with a nice boss, good money, and to live without worrying if I can pay all my bills that month. It’s a huge relief.”

  “You’ve had a tough life, huh?”

  She nods, her eyes straying to Jackson. “It hasn’t been too bad.”

  “How old are you?” I ask.

  Raelynn’s shoulders seem to straighten. “Twenty-two. Jackson’s five.” She stares at me, obviously waiting for some sort of response.

  I exhale heavily. “Wow. Much respect.”

  Her eyes nearly pop out of her head and her jaw hits the floor. “What?”

  “I still can’t see myself with a kid and I’m older than you. The thought of juggling a baby and my business sounds insane and way more work than I’m prepared to deal with. For you to have him young and him to be such a good kid? You’ve done something right, despite whatever struggles you’ve had to deal with.”

  Raelynn still seems stunned. “No one has ever said that to me. They are too focused on the fact that I had him young.”

  “People often miss the big picture, including me, so don’t let me fool you.” I smile, even though I’m thinking of my mistake with Brayden. One of my worst fears is spending life alone. Even friends with benefits prevents me from being completely alone. That’s not what I truly want, though. I want Brayden Hayes! I have to figure out how to get back on his good side.

  The goal horn blares, scaring the absolute shit out of Jackson, who immediately covers his ears. “Mommy, that’s louder than on TV,” he complains.

  “I’m sorry, baby. But look, Mr. Brayden scored.”

  We look up at the jumbotron just in time to see a replay of a sniper of a shot and then, the craziest thing of all. Brayden celebrates. What in the world? I thought he didn’t do that. He hasn’t the few times I’ve watched. I lean forward and over a little bit.

  “Hey,” I say in the general direction of the women. When they glance over at me, I ask, “When did he start celebrating?”

  “He did it once on the road trip and has ever since,” Meredith answers. “Weird, right? Maybe it’s because he’s in love,” she teases with a grin.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I murmur. Hm. I doubt it. We weren’t talking and he’s currently pissed at me. Maybe it’s a rage-fueled distraction that’s causing him to relax enough to let loose? I don’t know. It’s nice to see his smile on the jumbotron, though. My eyes stay trained on Brayden throughout the rest of the game, where they seem to lose their speed and leave their net weak. Maybe I’ll catch other ways he’s changed, but he still looks pissy except for when he scored the lone Rebel goal. It’s not enough when the opposition scores two.

  So, here I am, waiting and waiting for him to show up. He has to show up, right? I pull up my message to him, making sure I included that I was stranded if he didn’t give me a ride home. Yes, I hoped I could guilt him into it.

  Sylvia’s husband, Scott, shows up. He doesn’t seem to be in too great of a mood, but he showers his daughters with a kiss each, thanks Lizzy for bringing them, and leaves in a hurry. Meredith and Lizzy’s husbands, Noah and Marc, show up. They take the hands of their wives, seemingly in no rush to leave, just yet. Where is Brayden?

  Then, EJ, Ian, and Zane show up. EJ and Zane look surprised to see me.

  “What are you doing here?” Zane asks while EJ asks nearly the same question.

  “Waiting for Brayden.” Why else would I be at a game?

  EJ steps closer to me and lowers his voice. “Brayden’s not coming up here, Deanna. He was just on his way out when we were on our way up. Did he know you were coming?”

  My shoulders slump. “Yeah, I texted him. Thanks, EJ. I should go. I need to catch a cab home.”

  Zane, who must’ve been eavesdropping, says, “I can take you, Deanna. I don’t mind.”

  “No, that’s okay.” That has bad idea written all over it. Zane is a good guy, I know, but there’s no need for him to take me home. I stand, say goodbye to the women, and head out. I sigh when Zane catches up to me. “Zane,” I start.

  “I can at least walk you out if you won’t let me give you a ride home. And you should let me. Why pay a cab when I can take you for free?”

  Good point, but not good enough.

  “So, how are things going?” he asks when I don’t respond.

  I glance over to see that he seems genuinely curious. “Work is fine, but otherwise? Not great. But you know me; I always find a way to screw something up.”

  “That’s not true,” he immediately says.

  “Oh, yeah? I was oblivious to how you felt, wasn’t I? I had no problem walking away and being blunt about it.”

  He frowns, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “You may have a point.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  He laughs. “I’m sure things will work out. Brayden doesn’t give up easily.”

  “Yet I’m taking a cab home.” Granted, I’m the one who fucked up, but still.

  “Oh, come on.” Zane throws an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. “Look at the bright side.”

  “What bright side?” I interrupt incredulously before he can say so. How is there possibly a bright side to this? I look down at my phone, hoping for a text from Br
ayden. At this point, I’ll even take a big fat fuck you. Just some kind of acknowledgment.

  “The bad stuff only makes you stronger in the end,” he says, pushing open the door for us to step outside.

  I roll my eyes and put my hand on his side to push him away, intending to tell him that’s a crock of shit. Before I can do so, Zane’s arm drops and he stops walking. I glance up to see Brayden fifteen feet ahead of us, looking as pissed off as ever.

  “Well, there’s your ride,” Zane says. He turns and leaves me there, which irritates me.

  “What the fuck are you doing with him?” Brayden demands once I get within two feet of him.

  “He was walking me out since you decided not to give me a ride home. That was very nice of you, by the way.”

  He sneers almost. “I just saw your text, Deanna. That’s why I’m coming back into the building. Why isn’t Zane giving you a ride home?”

  “Because I told him I’d rather take a cab.”

  He snorts like he doesn’t believe me. “Well, looks like I’m stuck with you now, so let’s go.”

  Oh, hell no. “Do you want to take me home?”

  “You didn’t give me much of a choice. Let’s go.” He turns and walks away without giving me a chance to respond or to see if I’ll follow along. Fine, he can walk away by himself.

  He’s pissed. He has a right to be. But if he doesn’t want to deal with me, I won’t make him. Forcing myself on him wasn’t my best idea; it’s probably made things worse. I turn and stalk off toward the front of the arena, where I know there will be a line of taxis waiting to take people home, and if there’s not one waiting, they’ll pick me up there. I double-checked that particular fact before I decided to come without a car.

  I’m halfway through one of the lots, only one more to go, when I hear running footsteps. My body tenses. When I glance over my shoulder, I nearly collapse in relief to find Brayden and not some crazed man. Although, to see the look on his face, he may be a crazed man.

  “What are you doing now?” he demands to know.