Whatever he is thinking, he is wrong.
“We will do this together,” I say firmly, leaving no room for argument.
He leans his forehead on mine. “Thank you, Lottie.” It’s only a whisper, but it’s the first words he has spoken since I arrived.
I look around for a moment—no Dwayne to direct me ororganize my luggage and ride, and Ewan is nowhere to be seen.
In one hand, Brandon takes my hand, and with the other, he rolls my suitcase out to the parking lot. Everything is smaller, just as I remember. I inhale a sharp breath when the cold air hits my face, and he is quick to open my door. When I slide inside the car, I send a text to my family, alerting them to my arrival, then ready myself for a silent drive to his home.
His home?I wait until we are on the main road to ask. “Are you living with your parents?”
He nods, looking at me briefly before focusing back on the road. “I want to stay close to everyone.”
I understand. “Did you ever buy another house here?”
“Nuh. I invested most of my money back ho—” He stops himself. “In the US. I bought a new home for my parents, and it’s where I stayed for the short time I came home to visit.”
“Home. It’s hard to know where that is sometimes,” I murmur. I look at him, and he reaches for my hand while keeping his eyes on the road. “But I know it’s with you, wherever that is. Maybe we have multiple homes.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he says flatly.
“My mom used to say,Home is where the heart is. And my home is with you.” He lifts my hand and brings it to his lips.
We drive for only another five minutes before we pull up at a house on the esplanade. A beach house. I should have guessed. “This is new.”
“Yeah, sold the house from the last time you were here. They have been in this house for two years.”
I smile at Brandon. “It’s beautiful.”
Pausing for a moment, he takes the time to look at it. “Yeah, it is. Haven’t really had the time to enjoy the location. And…” he shakes his head, “… Mum is inside waiting.” He unlocks the door and wheels my suitcase inside. I follow him into the foyer, a small area with wooden stairs leading to an upper level.
Peering around him, I see a number of doors.
“Your… our room is upstairs. I’ll take you there in a sec. Mum is in the living room. Her bedroom is on this level, close to the kitchen and living room. She spends much of her day watching TV.”
“How often does she have treatment?”
He stares at the door before answering, “Every two weeks. It’s her third round. She waited for four weeks past her mastectomy before commencing chemo. Her hair has fallen out already. She’s… weak.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” I take his hand. “She needs to focus on getting better.”
He turns his head and stares at the tiled floor as though he needs to say something in private. “She waited until after the championships to have surgery. It had already spread to her lymph nodes, which is why she needs more chemo. If only she told me and didn’t wait.” His eyes lift and meet mine. “If only she understood basketball was never more important than herlife,” he says between clenched teeth. “I would have come home. Why she thought it was more important to see me play in a championship infuriates me.”
I understand why.
Brandon gave his life to the sport.
And as a mother, she wanted to support his dream.
I run a hand over his scruffy jaw. He hasn’t shaven in weeks. The signs are there. He’s already going through the grief process.
“Is it the same reason you didn’t ask me to come?” His eyes flick over my face. “Because you thought a stupid team was more important than us?”
“It’s your work, Lottie. Besides, there is nothing you can do to help here.”
That fucking hurts.
I step up into his face. “I disagree.” Wrapping my arms around his waist, I pull him close to me. “Being here to support you means a lot to me. And if there is anything I can do to help your mom, then count me in.”
