by E. M. Abel
I bit the inside of my cheek, waiting for the I told you so, but it never came.
“I’m so sorry, honey. How are things going?”
My eyes watered as I let out a sigh of relief and sat down at my table. “It’s been hard, but I’m getting through it. There’s been a lot of drama, but I think it’s finally over.”
“Your sister and I are here for you if you need us. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I do. I would have called you, but…I was embarrassed. You warned me not to get married so young. I wish I had listened.”
“Oh, don’t do that to yourself, sweetheart. It’s a waste of time. Besides, I should have been more understanding. I’d been there before. I should have remembered what it was like.”
I sat there in shock. Is my mother admitting she was wrong?
She laughed, and it made me smile. “You still there?”
“Yeah, I’m still here.”
“I know you aren’t used to hearing me say I’m wrong.” She laughed again. “I’m also a little stubborn, too.”
“I miss you, Mom.” Tears stung my eyes as I realized just how much.
“I miss you, too, Penny. You just take care of yourself, okay? Do what makes you happy. Everything else will work itself out.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe you can fly out here for the holidays. How does that sound?”
“I’d love that.”
“Don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I smiled as I hung up the phone. It was like my conversation with my mom had revitalized my heart. Her unconditional love was the safety net I’d so desperately wanted and always needed. It also made the thought of jumping a lot less scary.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked.
I laughed as Brandon guided me forward with his hands on my waist while mine searched the air in front of us.
“We’re almost there,” he said, his breath tickling the side of my face.
I tripped forward, and his grip tightened, saving me from face-planting on the ground. I could tell we were in the woods. I could feel the branches snapping under my feet as I walked. I could smell the fresh pine and hear the birds chirping around us.
“Okay, stop.”
Brandon began untying the bandana he’d wrapped around my head and uncovered my eyes. When I opened them, I realized we were standing in a clearing covered in dandelions. In front of one tree sitting alone in the middle, a big blanket was sprawled out on the ground with a picnic basket next to it. It was perfect.
“Oh my God, I’m impressed!” I said, turning to smile at Brandon.
He pretended to shine his nails on his shirt. “Well, you know, I’m a man of many talents.”
“And secrets,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
Brandon smiled and gave me a peck on the lips before walking over to the picnic basket. “I hope you like sparkling cider.”
I laughed as I followed him and sat down on the blanket. “Sounds delicious.”
He took out two champagne flutes and poured the cider into them. “I would have gotten you champagne, but since you have to work tonight, I figured I’d better keep you sober.”
“Good idea.” I smiled as he offered me the glass and sat down. “Thank you.”
He held his up for a toast, and I followed suit, lifting mine.
“To letting go and living in the moment.”
We clicked glasses, and I couldn’t help but grin at his choice of words as I took a sip.
“I had no idea you were such a romantic.”
He chugged the entire glass of cider and burped. “Neither did I.”
I laughed as Brandon leaned back and propped himself up on one elbow. He was seriously one of the most gorgeous men I’d ever seen, and the more I got to know him, the more beautiful he became.
“So, how did you find this place?” I asked.
“I like running on the trails out here. This is where I do my calisthenics.”
I snorted and almost choked on the sip I was taking.
Brandon smiled as he watched me trying to recover from my fit of laughter. “What?”
“I don’t know. I was thinking you’d say something like, This is my favorite spot in the world, or, This is where I come to think and meditate.”
Brandon’s eyebrows rose, and he chuckled, like I couldn’t have been more wrong. “I just wanted to bring you to a good make-out spot.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “So, this was all just a ploy to get some action?”
“No, I’m confident I can get some action. I just thought a change of scenery would be nice.”
We both laughed as I reached over and smacked his leg, but before I could take my hand back, he grabbed my wrist and brought me down next to him. I began to protest but couldn’t. Brandon was staring at me like a starving man would stare at his favorite meal, and the mood between us instantly changed. The sound of crickets chirping faded into the background as he held my eyes and pulled me closer. It was impossible not to feel the charge in the air between us. My entire body was vibrating with it.
Inching closer, I closed my eyes as his breath warmed my face. Each second that passed only intensified the surge of energy between us. When my lips brushed against his, I paused, savoring the feel of it. Butterflies fluttered frantically in my stomach, and my heart beat like a drum in my chest.
Finally, I pressed my mouth to his and felt the familiar pops and explosions of fireworks coursing through my veins. His hand slid into my hair as I deepened our kiss, wanting to taste more of him. I’d never felt this kind of chemistry before in my life. There was a magnetism between us, a push-and-pull of need and want, trust and acceptance.
When Brandon looked into my eyes, he saw me, not the woman he wanted me to be.
We lay there for what felt like hours, just kissing and touching, talking and laughing, until we both relaxed into a comfortable silence, and I fell asleep, listening to his heart.
I woke up to the sound of birds chirping and the deep, slow breaths rocking Brandon’s chest under me. Carefully tilting my head, I squinted my eyes against the bright afternoon sun to look at Brandon.
We’d both fallen asleep under the tree, my head on his chest, his arm wrapped around my waist. Grinning, I inched closer, enjoying the feel of his soft shirt under my cheek. I carefully checked my watch. It was almost four, and my stomach grumbled, clearly unsatisfied with the fruit and cheese Brandon and I’d had during our picnic.
I closed my eyes, choosing to ignore my hunger and feed my heart instead. I didn’t want to wake Brandon up when I knew he rarely got any sleep. I listened to the leaves rustling in the wind above us, savoring the soft breeze that cooled my skin under the heavy humidity.
A few minutes later, Brandon’s hand on my waist tightened. I opened my eyes and peeked up at him to see if he was awake, but he wasn’t. His eyes were shut, but his breaths were coming out faster, his chest pumping under me. I tried pulling away, but his fingers dug into my side as his eyebrows drew together, his jaw tightening.
“Brandon,” I whispered, afraid of what he might do if I woke him.
He whimpered, and my heart instantly squeezed in my chest. Whatever he was reliving wasn’t good. I could feel the fear seizing his body.
I gently put my hand on his chest. “Brandon,” I said a little louder.
His eyes opened wide, and he pulled away, as if I’d burned him. Brandon gasped for air as I lay next to him, his eyes darting all around us, before he sat up and hung his head between his bent knees. I sat up, too, giving him time to regain control and realize where he was.
The demons.
I crossed my legs and stared at his back as his breaths began to slow and fall back into a natural rhythm.
I had no idea what had happened to Brandon in his past, but whatever it was, I knew it was really bad, and it still haunted him.
“Are you okay?” I asked, reaching out and rubbing his back.
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He shrugged me off and quickly stood. “We’d better go. I didn’t mean to stay out here so long.” He didn’t look at me as he packed up his stuff.
I got off the blanket and folded it, giving him the silence and space he seemed to need.
Peering up at him, I handed him the blanket, and Brandon glanced at me long enough for me to notice the shame in his eyes before he slipped his sunglasses over them and began walking. I followed silently behind him, wishing he trusted me enough to show me his pain.
As we walked toward his car, I thought about the horror stories I’d heard about some foster care families—the neglectful parents, the constant moving, the uncertainty. Then, I thought of all the reasons and circumstances that could have landed him in foster care to begin with.
Was he abused? Did his parents die, or did they abandon him?
“I’ve never had anyone.”
His words echoed in my mind as my imagination ran wild. My heart broke as I thought of all the ways life could have damaged Brandon. I could almost picture him as a little boy, just wanting to feel loved by someone.
Once we reached his car, I knew I had to say something. We’d always been honest and direct with each other, and I didn’t want that to change. I didn’t want our day to end like this. My feet stopped, and I stood a few feet from Brandon’s car as he went to open his door. He tossed his stuff in the backseat and put his arms on the roof, his back facing me as he avoided my stare.
“You can talk to me, you know? You don’t have to hide whatever it is you’ve gone through. It might help to talk about it.”
Brandon dropped his head and raked his fingers through his hair. “Can we just go, please?”
“Why can’t you tell to me? What do you think will happen? Don’t you trust me?”
He turned around to look at me, his sunglasses shielding me from the irritation in his eyes. “It’s not about trusting you, Penelope. It’s about that look on your face. It’s about wanting to be treated like a normal human being and not a fucking basket case. My past doesn’t define me.”
I looked down at the ground, trying to school my features, so I wouldn’t offend him. “I didn’t mean to look at you differently. I was just worried.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry, okay? I’m fine.” Brandon stepped away from his car and came closer. He lifted his sunglasses onto his head, revealing the blues in his eyes. “I just want you to see me. Not my past. Not my scars. Just me. Do you think you can do that?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I can. I do.”
Brandon walked toward me, and I met him halfway. I understood his need to let the past go, and I respected it. I didn’t want my scars to define me either. Reaching up, I stroked the hair on his cheek with the backs of my fingers, studying his eyes with my own.
Then, I told him what I felt he needed to hear, “I’m sorry.”
The next morning, Brandon and I were naked together in his bed. I could feel myself falling a little more every time he touched me, every time we kissed. I lifted our hands into the beams of sunlight above us, casting shadows on his wall, as I traced his tattoos with my eyes.
“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” he asked, his beard lightly brushing my cheek, as our fingers intertwined.
“I don’t know. Am I?”
“I think you are.”
My fingertips trailed the veins on the back of his hand and then his forearm.
“So, what am I doing here with you?” I murmured.
“I was just asking myself the same question.”
As I turned onto my stomach, my breasts pressed against his bare skin.
He ran his thumb along my bottom lip. “You’re too good for me.”
“And you’re too bad for me.”
We lay there, staring at each other, both of us knowing the danger we were in but neither of us willing to leave.
Leaning forward, I pressed my lips to his, sealing our fate with a kiss.
Over the next two weeks, I began to feel myself changing. No longer the girl seeking acceptance, I was becoming a woman who wore her scars like beauty marks. Brandon had had a lot to do with that. He was always challenging me, questioning my actions, and offering me a new perspective. He liked it when I fought him, and I liked him for making me fight. It forced me to stay honest with myself and to do things out of conviction rather than habit.
He was renewing the hope in me I’d thought I’d lost, and it scared me, but the fear was thrilling. I was beginning to understand the daredevils who jumped off cliffs and out of planes. Something about the risk made you feel alive. Brandon was like an adrenaline shot straight to my heart.
“I have to go home and do some laundry.”
Brandon’s warm arms pulled me in closer. “I’ll come with you,” he murmured, his erection pressing against my back.
We’d already had sex once that morning. He was like a machine.
I laughed as I pried his arms off of me and turned to face him. “I have to check my mail and call my sister. She’s probably worried. I haven’t called her in weeks.”
The truth was, he still hadn’t seen my apartment, and I didn’t want him to. I was embarrassed by the instability of my life in comparison to his. Brandon led an exciting and glamorous life when he wasn’t in bed with me. He’d just booked a flight to Scotland for his next photo shoot, and I was still saving pennies and hoping I’d be able to attend school in the fall. I didn’t want him to see my air mattress and the mistakes plastered all over my bare walls. I also didn’t want him to discover how pathetic I’d be without him.
His hooded gaze was making me uncomfortable. He always saw too much.
“What?”
“Why haven’t you ever let me in your apartment?”
I shrugged and turned onto my back, so it was easier to lie. “I don’t keep you out. We just always stay here. It’s closer to Induce, and it’s nicer.”
Brandon chuckled. “I live in the ghetto.”
“Yeah, but you have nice stuff. Your bed is a lot more comfortable than mine.”
“See? I don’t even know what kind of bed you have.”
I turned my head to look at him and knew I had to be honest. No pretending. “I haven’t brought you over because I’m embarrassed. I sleep on an air mattress. I don’t even have a couch or a television.”
Brandon lifted himself up onto his elbow as his eyebrows drew together. “Are you serious?”
I had a hard time maintaining eye contact. “Yeah…maybe.”
“I spent five years of my life sleeping on a blanket on the floor. I didn’t have my first television until I joined the Corps and bought myself one. Do you really think I would judge you for something like that?”
I shrugged, feeling like a scolded child. “I don’t know.”
Brandon searched my face before dropping his forehead onto my shoulder with a sigh. “I grew up poor, Penelope. I used to sneak into people’s cars and steal their change, so I could eat.” He lifted his head and looked around his room before meeting my gaze. “That’s why I live like this. I don’t need much, but when I do invest in something, I make sure it’s worth it. I know it seems odd, but I live in this apartment because it’s what I’m used to. Homeless guy on the corner, couples fighting in the middle of the night, rude neighbors—it all feels like home to me. Trust me, there’s no way I’d ever judge you for the way you live.”
“It’s not just that. I’m embarrassed about the state of my life. I mean, I’m thirty.” I tossed my hands up in the air before dropping them back at my sides. “What do I have to show for my life? A fucked-up marriage, an empty bank account, an old car, a fucking air mattress, and a bike! I mean, look at you. You’re a model, for Christ’s sake. You’re going to Scotland in a couple of weeks, and I can’t even afford to go to college.”
“I asked you to come with me,” he said before dropping a soft kiss on my shoulder.
“I have to work,” I muttered, pouting.
Brandon pushed out his bottom lip, an
d I tried not to look at him, but he made it impossible.
I laughed and smacked him on the shoulder. “Don’t mock me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m being serious. It sucks, having to start all over at thirty.”
“It could always be worse. You could still be with your ex instead of in this warm, expensive bed with me,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.
I smiled, and he slid his hand up my stomach and onto one of breasts, tweaking my nipple between his fingers.
“Let me remind you how lucky you are,” he whispered.
A few hours later, Brandon followed me into my building and stood next to me as I checked my small mailbox by the front entrance. It was crammed full of sale flyers and a few envelopes. I pulled the pile out and sorted through it as I made my way toward my front door.
My feet stopped when I found a large envelope from The International Humanitarian Association.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, my eyes meeting Brandon’s, before I opened it.
I pulled out a pamphlet and a small stack of papers. On the top was an acceptance letter, and I read it out loud, “Dear Ms. Baylor, We are excited to inform you that you have been accepted into the International Nursing Internship Program. You are eligible to enroll on September fifteenth, and you may begin your journey as early as thirty days from your enrollment date. Please read the information provided in this package and feel free to email me with any questions or concerns. We look forward to working with you.”
My mouth fell open as the realization set in.
“I got in!”
“That’s awesome, Penelope. Congratulations.”
I pried my eyes away from the letter and Brandon was grinning, but his demeanor had changed. I could almost feel the distance growing between us even though we were both standing still.
“It’ll only be for a few months,” I assured him.
Brandon wiped the look from his face and replaced it with confusion. “What? No, don’t worry about me. I’m happy for you. Really. This is exactly what you need. It’ll be good for you,” he said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
