by B. B. Hamel
And then there was the balcony back at her dad’s big house, after the reception, after everyone had gone home.
Her skin in the moonlight. Her lips, the way they parted when I got close.
I had jumped off some of the most intense and terrifying places in the world. I had spent months in jail. But none of that compared to the feeling I had for those brief moments. And there she was, suddenly back in my life, looking exactly as gorgeous as she used to look back then.
“’Morning, Brie baby,” I said.
She looked up at me, surprised for a second, and then her eyes narrowed.
“Good morning, gramps. Nice cane.”
I laughed and shuffled over to her, sitting down on a stool on the other side the island.
“Okay then, nerd. Nice glasses.”
“These aren’t nerdy.” She reached up and touched them unconsciously.
“Yeah, and this isn’t a cane. It’s an assisted walking device.”
“Looks a lot like a cane to me.”
“You’re way mistaken. How’s Indiana?”
“Fine. How’s jumping off buildings and breaking both your legs?”
I laughed again. Most people danced around that particular subject, but Brie was not the type to avoid something.
“Pretty damn good, actually.”
“That’s right. You’re ‘based’ now, aren’t you?”
I nodded. Based was a lifestyle. It was a frame of mind. Some rapper named Lil B made it famous. Based meant you did whatever you wanted and didn’t give a shit what people thought. You were cool because you felt like it.
“Based” was also my nickname, given to me early on in my career. Over time it had morphed into my brand, or whatever my managers were calling it, and it encompassed a whole bunch of shit, from clothing to gear.
“Guess so. Has to be better than being a nerdy little school girl.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s so great seeing you again.”
“Ditto. Why are you here, anyway?”
“Well, it is my house. I grew up here, remember?”
“So you spend your summers at home?”
She paused and then shook her head. “No, not usually. This is my first summer back, actually.”
“Look at that. We have something in common.”
“What about you? Just spending your time getting stretched out by cute girls?”
I laughed and shook my head. “No, not always. Sometimes the cute girls are gorgeous instead.”
She snorted and shook her head. “You haven’t changed one bit.”
“Are you a little jealous?”
“Not in the least. How long will the cameras be around?”
I smirked. She was changing the subject.
“Not sure. Depends on how long it takes before I can jump again.”
She paused and raised her eyebrows. “You’re planning on jumping again?”
“Of course. It’s what I do.”
“Didn’t you smash your legs? Like, a barely able to walk kind of injury?”
I laughed. “Like I said, it’s what I do, Brie baby.”
“Quit calling me that.”
“Why? Anyway, what do you care if I jump?”
She shook her head, struggling for a reason. I could tell she was getting frustrated, and I loved it. She was exactly the sort of person that would admonish me for jumping again; she had probably never taken a risk in her entire life. Aubrie was daddy’s little princess, the straight-A, academic golden child. Full ride to Notre Dame plus great grades in whatever bio-related program she was going through. It was apparently some brain-drain thing for the best of the best. It was probably pretty easy for her to look down on what I did, but she would never understand the feeling I got as my body first shifted from solid ground to nothing and the air roared all around me.
It was like a cocoon of screaming freedom. Or something like that.
“I guess I don’t care. It’s just stupid.”
“Easy for you to say, nerd. Everyone is stupid compared to you.”
She looked confused. “I’m not sure if I should be insulted or not.”
I laughed again and slowly stood up, carefully keeping the pain off my face. “Both, probably,” I said.
She watched silently as I hobbled over to the refrigerator, got out the milk, and poured myself a bowl of cereal. I hobbled back to my spot and hopped back up onto the stool. The last thing I wanted was for Brie to see me in pain, but there was no helping that. My PT may have been going well, but I was still at least another few months from walking completely normally again.
“Does it hurt?” she asked, breaking the silence.
I shook my head. Typical Brie, saying exactly what she was thinking.
“Sometimes. I can handle it, though.”
I took a bite of my cereal while she watched me. It felt weird sitting at the table with her after all those years. Though we hadn’t exactly spent a lot of time together before my mom and her dad found each other, we had gotten pretty close very fast. And then that night changed everything, or at least made it obvious what was happening.
“What do the doctors say?”
“They say a lot of stuff.”
“But, about your recovery?”
I stopped eating and looked at her. “What’s with all the questions?”
“I’m curious, I guess.”
“Well, don’t be. I’m fine.”
She looked surprised, and I instantly regretted the harsh tone. I knew she was just trying to engage with me, maybe even show a little concern in her own way, but I hated pity. I hated pity more than anything, which was why the wheelchair was so terrible. And the last person I wanted any pity from was Aubrie.
Before I could apologize, maybe cover my shitty reaction by talking about the PT, my mom made her typical, perfectly-timed entrance.
“Good morning, children,” she practically sang as she took a yogurt from the refrigerator and leaned up against the counter.
“Good morning, Jules.”
I nodded to her. “Mother.”
“And what are you two doing today?”
“The usual,” I said before Aubrie could chime in. “Exercising my crippled legs while some dudes stick a camera in my face.”
Mom smiled uncertainly, and I felt bad. I knew she didn’t get sarcasm and I should probably lay off. What the hell is with me this morning? I thought to myself. It was probably just the pain rearing its ugly head.
“Well, that’s nice, Lincoln,” she said.
Aubrie gave me a look. “He’s pretty cranky this morning,” she said.
I laughed. “Cranky? I’m practically chipper.”
“When are the cameras arriving?” Mom asked, cutting off what was bound to be an incredibly witty retort from Aubrie.
I looked at her. “About forty minutes or so.”
“Better get on my face.”
Aubrie laughed and I grinned. Mom wasn’t kidding one bit, but she gave us a sheepish smile anyway.
“By the way,” Mom continued, “about that charity thing.”
I glanced at Aubrie, assuming she knew what was going on.
“Yeah, about that,” Aubrie said.
“I have a task for you in mind, but I need to clear up a few details first. Do you mind just hanging around?”
I raised an eyebrow. Aubrie was helping my mother with her hundreds of different charity projects? That could be interesting.
“Okay, sure. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks so much, dear.”
“By the way, where’s Dad?”
Mom paused, which was odd. I had been wondering the same thing, but I knew better than to ask.
“Your father is in L.A. working on a new script.”
“Oh, okay. When’s he getting back home?”
“Soon. Very soon, I think.”
Aubrie paused and I shrugged at her. “I haven’t heard from him, so don’t look at me.”
She frowned but didn’t say anything
.
“Well, okay, have a good morning.” And then Mom was gone, back up to her room to probably do another workout.
I looked at Aubrie. “Did she seem a little slower than usual?”
Aubrie smiled, focusing back in on me. “No, no more than usual.”
“I could have sworn I saw her hamster wheel spinning twice as fast.”
She laughed. “Oh, don’t be so mean to your mother.”
I held up my hands. “I’m never mean. Just speaking the truth.”
She laughed again and we lapsed into silence, finishing our cereal. Finally, Aubrie pushed back from the island and stood up, putting her bowl in the sink.
“Okay. I have some stuff to do. Good luck with therapy.”
“Sounds good, Brie baby.”
She rolled her eyes and was gone. I watched her walk out of the room, my eyes glued to her perfect, round ass, barely concealed by her thin cotton shorts.
Fucking Aubrie, back in my life. Maybe, if all things went well, I’d recover faster than expected, and my mom would keep her busy. Maybe we wouldn’t run into each other too much this summer.
Maybe I wouldn’t have to spend the next three months covering my hard-ons every time she bent over to pick something up.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Also By B. B. Hamel
Prologue
Chapter One: Rebecca
Chapter Two: Reid
Chapter Three: Rebecca
Chapter Four: Reid
Chapter Five: Rebecca
Chapter Six: Reid
Chapter Seven: Rebecca
Chapter Eight: Reid
Chapter Nine: Rebecca
Chapter Ten: Reid
Chapter Eleven: Rebecca
Chapter Twelve: Reid
Chapter Thirteen: Rebecca
Chapter Fourteen: Reid
Chapter Fifteen: Rebecca
Chapter Sixteen: Reid
Chapter Seventeen: Rebecca
Chapter Eighteen: Reid
Chapter Nineteen: Rebecca
Chapter Twenty: Reid
Chapter Twenty-One: Rebecca
Chapter Twenty-Two: Reid
Chapter Twenty-Three: Rebecca
Chapter Twenty-Four: Reid
Chapter Twenty-Five: Rebecca
Chapter Twenty-Six: Reid
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Reid
Epilogue
Thank You!
Further Reading: Based
