by Anna Paige
Her hand shot out and latched onto my wrist, tugging me back down. “Okay, okay. You win. It’s not like people are beating down my door looking to be my friend these days, so who am I to say no?”
“Gee, stop with all the flattery, will you? You’re gonna make me blush.”
Her responding smile was beautiful. And fleeting. She looked down at my wrist and realized she was still holding onto it, snatching back her hand with an apologetic look. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant…” she trailed off. “Actually, I’m not sure what I meant. Ignore me. It’s been a long day.” She blew out a breath and averted her gaze.
“I’m not exactly Mr. Popular, myself.” I admitted quietly.
She turned back to meet my gaze, clearly curious. “And why do you say that?”
I blew out a breath and shrugged. “I have it on good authority that I’m weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Too quiet, too awkward, too nerdy, too different… You name it, I’ve heard it.”
She watched me for a moment, her attention shifting from my face to drift down my body, finally settling back on my eyes. “You look pretty normal to me.”
I gave her a quick once over, smiling. “So do you.” She quirked a brow and fluffed her bright red hair, prompting me to add, “For the most part.”
She chuckled at that. “It’s usually black, my natural color.” She snagged a lock and twirled it around her pointer finger, eyeing it with an amused smile.
“I like the red. It’s striking. And it makes your eyes pop.”
She tilted her head, still watching the red strands catching the light. “It’s okay, I guess. I didn’t really do it for myself, though.”
“So, who did you do it for? A boyfriend?” Something about the idea of some jackass telling her to change the way she looked pissed me off. Not that she seemed like the type to yield to requests like that.
“Boyfriend? In this town? You really are new around here.” She shook her head. “No, no man gets to make my choices for me. Ever.” She lifted her hand and nodded to the hair curled around her finger. “This was me giving the people in this town a little ‘fuck you’. I figured since they are constantly gossiping about me anyway, why not make myself easier for them to pick out in a crowd? They whisper and point regardless, and half of them are near-sighted as hell, so this helps them keep the gossip mill running.”
Her answer left me somewhere between impressed and annoyed. “Why do they gossip?”
The look she gave me suggested I’d asked a stupid question. “As Clay’s business partner, I’m sure you can figure out the answer to that.”
Fuck. “So, they got wind of your part in what happened last year?”
She nodded, pursing her mouth into an ironic scowl. “There are no secrets in a place this small, unless you brought them with you when you came. Anything that happens here becomes common knowledge almost immediately.” Her hands were clasped together in her lap, fingers laced together so tightly that her knuckles were white. “Ali and Clay tried to keep my name out of it, but Keith was a different story. By the time he got done, every person within several blocks of the jail had heard his fabricated version of events. They transferred him out the day after he was arrested but by then the damage was done.” She looked up at me, her clear blue eyes desolate. “This town has a long memory and a penchant for grudge holding.”
I thought for a moment, forcing myself not to reach for her hands. I got the feeling that touching her right then would be a mistake. Instead, I told her, “Maybe they’ll let up on you after they see you with Clay and Ali a few times. They’re going to be here for a while working on Milly’s Mountain, and regardless of the busybodies, I know for a fact that Clay and Ali don’t have any ill will toward you. They consider you a friend.” I offered her a small smile. “And I’d like to, as well. Assuming you’re okay with being friends with a weirdo, that is.”
She returned my smile. Progress. “As far as the people around here cutting me slack… I won’t hold my breath.”
“And the rest?”
She unclasped her hands and smoothed them over her thighs, pressing out some imagined wrinkles in her clothes. Her voice was small and quiet when she answered. “I’d like a new friend, even if he’s a self-proclaimed weirdo.”
I nodded, not that she could see it since she was still avoiding my eyes. “Oh, I’m not the only one who says so. Just wait. I’m sure Clay and Spencer will take great pleasure in enlightening you.”
“Something to look forward to...” she trailed off, the amused glint in her eye dimming. She glanced at the house and forced a swallow, bracing her palms beside her on the stone wall.
“You okay?” I reached for her hand despite myself, seeing fresh tears welling in her eyes.
She didn’t pull away when I covered the back of her hand with mine, but she didn’t look at me either. Her eyes followed the various guests as they moved past the rear windows of the house. “I don’t know what to do now, you know? It’s like I’m waiting to wake up from a bad dream, willing myself to snap out of it because it can’t possibly be real.” A single tear escaped, trailing down her cheek and rolling to the corner of her mouth. “Because if it’s real… I don’t think I’ll survive the pain.”
“I know that feeling well,” I admitted, too distracted by her pain to remember to hide my own. “It’s like every time you focus on the truth, you feel like you’re being pulled under water until your chest feels like it may explode, until you’re drowning in it. So, you pretend it’s just a dream or a movie, call it anything except reality so you can keep treading water for a little longer.”
She met my gaze then, tears streaming down her devastated face. “That’s exactly it.” She used the hand I wasn’t holding to swipe at the tears on her cheeks but they were quickly replaced with fresh ones.
I gave her hand a squeeze. “I despise empty platitudes, so I won’t give you any. Losing someone fucking hurts, there’s no way around it. The truth is, the hurt is always going to be there because the love is always there. And that’s okay. That’s the thing about love, it goes on even when we don’t. That’s what the pain is, it’s all the love we didn’t get to shower on the people we lost.” I managed to keep the pain from my voice as I spoke, but only just.
Her voice was barely more than a whisper, her voice gravelly from her grief when she asked, “Who did you lose?”
There was a flash, a fleeting memory of a smiling face in my mind. A smattering of freckles across a perfect nose, the glint of mischief in wide hazel eyes. The faintest echo of her childlike laugh… And just like that, it was gone.
Along with my ability to breathe.
Before I could recover myself and answer Lauren’s question, I heard the storm door bang shut behind me and a man’s voice muttering a curse. “Shit. I tried to catch it.” The guy announced as I turned to watch his approach. He was around my height, though he lacked muscle tone. His thin build made him seem young, maybe early twenties. His blond hair was cropped short and his dark eyes watched me with obvious curiosity as he made his way across the yard toward us. He held two plastic cups in his hand and offered one to Lauren when he drew near. “I thought maybe you needed something to drink.”
She took the cup with a nod, her eyes not the least bit friendly. “Thanks.” There was a napkin wrapped around the cup and she used it to dry her cheeks, setting the drink aside untouched.
When she didn’t say anything more, he shuffled from foot to foot, looking between us uncomfortably. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” He asked finally, still sizing me up with something that looked like annoyance.
I bit back a smile and let her make the introductions.
“Brant, this is Jacob. His grandfather is a close friend of my uncle’s.” She swallowed thickly. “I mean, was.”
She looked on the verge of losing it but held herself in check, cutting her eyes at Jacob.
I offered my hand and a big smile, leaving
the other hand holding Lauren’s. “Nice to meet you. Brant Matthews, friend of Lauren and co-owner of CBD, the company doing the big construction project on the other side of town.”
He squeezed harder than necessary as he shook my hand and I gave him his moment, biding my time. “Yeah, I think I read something in the paper about that. I’m Jacob Foreman. I manage the bank here in town, and I’m also a friend of Lauren’s.” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t recall her ever mentioning you before.”
“Likewise.” I told him with a broad smile as I clamped down on his hand, instantly rewarded by his strained hiss. “Guess we’re equally unfamiliar with one another then, huh?”
He only nodded, trying to tug his hand away.
I gave it a bit more pressure before finally letting go. “If you’ll excuse us, Lauren and I were in the middle of a private conversation. I’m sure you understand, given the circumstances of the day.”
He looked down at where my hand blanketed hers and I couldn’t resist trailing my thumb over her knuckles. His brow pinched and he tossed out, “Just wanted to say I’m sorry for your loss, Lauren. You have my number if you need me for anything. And I do mean anything.” His tone was clear. He wanted me to know there was something between them, whether currently or in the past. It was pathetic posturing that fell only slightly short of pissing around her feet to mark his territory.
If I’d thought for a moment that she wanted him around, I would never have egged him on. The fact that she looked both annoyed and slightly sickened by his presence told me that I made the right call getting rid of him.
Lauren didn’t respond to his offer, didn’t even look at him, so he spun around and marched off in the direction of the driveway, skirting around the corner of the house without looking back.
“Well, he seems like a lot of laughs.” I told her, turning back around to meet her gaze.
Her expression caught me off guard; she seemed confused and maybe a little angry. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?”
She tilted her head to the side and huffed out a breath. “You know exactly what. I think I heard a bone snap in his hand and you shooed him away like he was a gnat or something.”
“Gnat is as apt a description as any, I suppose. Did you want him to stay?”
“No, not even a little. He’s a total asshole. But why didn’t you want him around?” she asked as she took the drink he gave her and dumped it out on the grass.
I quirked a brow at the empty cup but filed that question away for later. “Because as soon as you saw him, you clammed up and looked like you’d just sucked on a lemon. I gathered from your reaction that he wasn’t a welcome addition to our conversation, so I asked him to leave. Did I upset you somehow?”
She blinked with surprise and straightened. “No. Not really. I just didn’t understand why you got rid of him like that. I guess I didn’t realize I was so transparent.” She thought about it for a minute. “Too bad he’s not as attuned to my reactions as you are, maybe he would have backed off ages ago.”
“Has he been hassling you?” I flicked a glance in the direction he’d disappeared, thinking maybe I should have broken his fucking hand.
She pursed her face, looking guilty. “Not exactly. Well, sort of, but it’s probably my own fault.”
“If he’s harassing you, that’s not your fault.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But he wouldn’t be pestering me if he and I hadn’t hooked up last year.”
Yep, should have broken his fucking hand. “Still doesn’t give him the right to hound you,” I asserted through a clenched jaw.
“It’s not as nefarious as I made it sound. He’s harmless; he just doesn’t see why I can’t be his FWB.” She shrugged. “In a town this small options are limited, but frankly, I’d rather be celibate.”
I couldn’t help chuckling at that.
The screen door slammed shut again, and again there was cursing. This time, it was Ali who glared at the noisy door and let loose with a string of obscenities that had Lauren and I laughing by the time she got over to us.
She held out two small bottles of water, one for each of us and we gladly accepted. “You two have been out here a while, I thought you might be parched.” She glanced around. “Did I see Jacob heading out here a little while ago?”
Lauren nodded, tilting back her water and taking a long drink before speaking. “You just missed him. Brant chased him away.” She smirked at me, looking grateful.
“Good job, little brother.” Ali nudged me, knowing I hated when she called me that. I was flattered she considered me a brother but the use of the word ‘little’ made me cringe. I was only a few months younger than her but I was nearly three years younger than Clay, who originated the annoying nickname.
Not thinking, I muttered, “Not so little.”
Both women looked at me with raised brows.
Shit.
“I mean, you and I are the same age,” I sputtered, finally letting go of Lauren’s hand. “So, I’m not your little brother.”
An amused look passed between them at my embarrassment.
Great. Maybe now Lauren would see what I meant about me being weird and awkward.
Ali reached over and patted my shoulder. “You’re adorable with your foot in your mouth, little brother.” She laughed. “I’ll see you both later. I need to check on Talia. Her morning sickness passed a while ago but something about the combined smells of all that food is getting to her.” She quirked a brow at Lauren. “Personally I think it’s Miss Fay’s deviled eggs that are to blame, but damn if I can get her to stop eating them, so it serves her right.”
I’d be a shitty little brother if I didn’t notice the puffiness around her eyes or the fact that she was trying so hard to keep herself distracted. It was obvious that Ali was treading water, too.
Three
Lauren
After Ali went back inside, the quiet of the afternoon fell around us like a fog. The sun finally chased away the clouds but the additional light did nothing to chase away the shadows inside me. Neither of us spoke for a while, choosing to sit there on the stone wall and reflect on things.
Nothing felt real—not the sun on my skin or breath in my lungs. Nothing penetrated the haze in which I was existing.
But I knew it wouldn’t be that way much longer. I was losing the battle. I’d been fighting to tread water for days—as Brant so accurately described it—and I was tiring of the struggle.
I wanted the pain to overtake me and never let me resurface.
I wanted to drown in it.
There was nothing left for me, nothing left of me now. No beacon to light my way like my uncle had done. No one who knew all of me the way he had. I was adrift. Apart.
I had been those things before—when I was in the midst of the childhood I tried so hard to forget—but my uncle saved me from it, fought for me, nearly lost everything to protect me. Loved me.
He was the first person who ever did, the only person.
And he was never coming back.
I always measured my life by two distinctions: before he saved me, and after. What he did back then was the catalyst that redefined my existence. But now there was this third unwelcome designation: after he died.
Somewhere through the haze that surrounded me, I felt the warmth of a hand on mine.
Brant.
He was watching me with knowing eyes, not pushing, not questioning or spouting bullshit about how it will get better. Just sitting in companionable silence.
It wasn’t lost on me that he was one of the first check marks in the ‘after Teach died’ column of my life. His friendship, however long it lasted, would forever be a part of my post-Teach existence.
I didn’t want to like the guy, but something about him called to me and I didn’t have it in me to push him away. Not after everything that had happened. So, I let him hold my hand, occasionally looking up through my tears to find his somber eyes on mine. He wasn’t so much watching me as he was watching
over me. It was comforting, so I let him do it—going against my natural instincts. I generally didn’t get cozy with guys, didn’t do affection or even much attention unless I was the initiator.
Today wasn’t just any day, though, and I had a feeling that Brant wasn’t just any guy.
Something in the way he approached me, the way he didn’t push me to talk or pretend I was okay when I clearly wasn’t, suggested he really did know how I was feeling. Maybe that was why I twisted my palm up and threaded my fingers through his.
He gave my hand a little squeeze but didn’t react otherwise.
I heard the click of the storm door and didn’t bother to look over, waiting for the loud bang that usually followed. When it didn’t come, both Brant and I looked over to find Bonnie standing one step outside the door, hand on hip, scowling at us. “You know, there are people here who would like to offer you their condolences. You’re being very rude.” With that, she turned and stepped back inside, letting the screen slam loudly behind her.
Old crow.
Brant lifted our joined hands and gave me a soft smile. “The way you’re crushing my hand, maybe I should have let you have a shot at Jacob earlier.” I tried to pull away, realizing he was right, but he held firm. “I was kidding, darlin’. Just trying to get a smile out of you.” He took our joined hands and placed them on his knee, sandwiching my hand between both of his.
“None of those people are here for me and she knows it. She just likes tormenting me.” I looked at him helplessly. “I’m not going to make it the next few weeks in the same house with that old biddy. I’ll end up putting arsenic in her Metamucil, I just know it.” I was mostly joking…
“She’s staying that long?”
“Apparently. She told me last night—in her snottiest, most condescending tone—that she would be running the house for the foreseeable future.” I blew out a breath. “Marilee isn’t doing so great, understandably. Bonnie’s appointed herself as caregiver. She keeps Mar so isolated, I’ve barely gotten to say two words to her these last couple of days. The doctor put her on anxiety meds that have her walking around like a zombie, so I’m not sure she’s even aware of what Bonnie’s doing. And I can’t very well point it out because Mar is already dealing with so much. Honestly, I don’t know how to talk to her anyway. Teach was the thread that connected Marilee and I, without him I’m not sure how to approach her.”
