That’s what he told himself.
Unfortunately, logic didn’t change a thing. The iron-sided self-control that had enabled him to stand silently to the side during her past romances had frayed. When he first returned to Merryweather three weeks ago, his true emotions concerning Britt had been simmering under the surface. Now they were boiling.
Maybe the time had come to tell her how he felt. If he did, things might never be the same between them. He could lose her and his relationship with the rest of the Bradfords, too.
And for what?
Did he expect her to promise she’d never date anyone again once she found out that he loved her? Did he expect her to say,“Thank goodness you mentioned that you love me, Zander. Now that you’ve said thewords, it occurs to me that I love you, too.”
No. Most likely she’d react with compassion and questions. She’d try to make him feel better even as she’d be forced to tell him that she loved him, too ... but in a platonic way.
Imagining that caused his chest to tighten defensively because he’d spent the bulk of his early life reconciling himself to his parents’ inability to love him in the way he needed.
He could clearly picture his mom and dad in his mind’s eye, even now. His mom’s delicate blond beauty. His dad’s dark hair and harsh, pointed face. He could hear kindness in her voice, disapproval in his.
His mom, Adele, had been both the sweetest person and the weakest person he’d ever known. Unsure of herself, funny, caring. A dreamer placed in a rough St. Louis neighborhood where dreams were liabilities. She’d been too soft for the world and for the man she’d married.
Intense and hard to please, Caleb Ford had always been convinced that he’d received less out of life than he’d deserved. It had never occurred to him that he’d received little out of life because he’d allowed laziness to cripple his smart brain.
His parents had raised him and Daniel on talk of the ways in which their ambitions would one day make the family rich. His mom had wanted to become a singer. His dad a poker pro. However, neither of them had been capable of the steady, day-in, day-out work that would’ve paid the bills, given them a shot at achieving their goals, and provided their sons with a sense of consistency.
Zander had been twelve when his dad had gone to jail for grand larceny, a circumstance that had left him and Daniel alone with the far less dependable of their two parents. Their mom.
The recreational drug habit she’d acquired in her early twenties had become, by her late twenties, a crutch she used to cope. Byher mid-thirties, her addiction controlled her far more than she controlled it.
In addition to feeding themselves, clothing themselves, and getting themselves to and from school, Daniel and Zander became responsible for their mother’s care.
When conscious, she spent her time looking for more drugs, apologizing, spouting empty promises, getting jobs, losing jobs, telling them how much she loved them, and pretending to be a normal mom by going on cleaning binges.
For two years he and Daniel tried to parent her. Then one summer day when Zander was fourteen, she left a candle burning too close to her bedroom curtains before passing out. By the time he and Daniel smelled smoke and ran to her room, flames had devoured the curtains. Daniel carried their mom into the hallway. Zander filled mixing bowls with water and ran repeatedly to her bedroom to toss water on the fire. Daniel beat the flame with a blanket.
No use. They had no fire extinguisher, and the water and blanket were no match for a fire that quickly leapt beyond their control.
They led their mom outside and collapsed beside her on the curb across the street from their burning apartment building.
“What’s happening?”she’d asked dazedly.“Whose apartment isthat? Why doesn’t someone put out the fire? Daniel? Whose apartment is that? Zander? What’s happening?”
Pity and love and hatred and sorrow for her had twisted inside him.
Sitting on that curb, Zander comprehended that life as he’d known it was finished. He and Daniel would be taken from her and part of him... part of him had been glad. The other part felt guilty because of his gladness.
He and Daniel left for Washington. His mom remained in St. Louis. His dad remained in jail.
Carolyn and Frank had given him a home. The Bradfords had drawn him into their circle. Over time, Daniel, Carolyn, Frank, and the Bradfords had become Zander’s family.
Four years ago, his mom had succeeded at the one thing she’d put her mind to. An overdose. Since then, his dad had succeeded in getting released from prison, committing another crime, and getting thrown back in.
The pretty sound of Britt’s laughter collided with his dark memories. Zander blinked, tugging his attention back to his surroundings.
Britt stood at the bar wearing a turquoise sundress that fell to the floor. There was a name for that type of dress, but he couldn’t remember what it was. She’d knotted her hair at the base of her neck in a messy bun. The look was pure Britt. Casual, self-assured, stylish without trying.
“Can I get either of you another drink?” Zander asked Corbin and John.
“I’m fine,” Corbin answered.
“Same here,” John said.
Zander excused himself and made his way through the crowd toward Britt.
