I don’t see Walt as an eye-rolling guy, but if he was one, he’d be doing it right now. “Well, yes. Of course.”
Wait, am I missing something? Have the Cuban’s and Monte Cristo’s blinded me to all manner of sandwich possibilities?
Walt sinks into his recliner. It creaks as he settles. “What the hell is that?” he asks, looking at the stand.
“That”—Brynn states, jabbing a nail in the direction of the piece—“is your new TV stand.”
“Now you listen here, missy—”
“Now you listen here, missy,” Brynn repeats, using an old person voice. If this exchange wasn’t so bizarre, I’d be laughing right now. It’s like Brynn is an annoyed and concerned daughter, and Walt is her obstinate geriatric father.
Walt glares at Brynn, and she lifts an eyebrow. Walt breaks first. There’s a tiny grin on his face, and it looks all wrong. Maybe it’s because I’ve never seen him look like that. Whenever I see him around town, he looks like he’s ready to smack people with a cane. Granted, he doesn’t use one, but still.
“Don’t worry, it came from a garbage heap,” I say, cringing. That was awkward as hell.
Brynn’s lips twist because she’s trying not to laugh. “What Connor means is that we rescued it from imminent death. Someone was going to subject it to a slow, painful demise in a landfill. Connor passed it today and, remembering what I said about your TV stand, stopped and tossed it into his truck bed.” She hardens her gaze, as if willing him to comply. “Nice, right?”
Walt looks at me for two seconds and then back at Brynn. “He’s just trying to get in your pants.”
“Too late. I’ve done all manner of dirty things with him,” Brynn says cheerfully, while I’m busy almost choking on my tongue.
“Brynn,” I manage to say, chastising her word choice.
She comes closer and pats my back. “Don’t worry. Walt won’t respect you unless you give it back to him. How do you think I slingshotted my way past his defenses?”
She’s looking up at me, grinning, and if it weren’t for Walt, I’d lay my lips down on hers right now. This girl’s infectious personality sends me spinning in the best way. She’s funny and bold, sassy and big-hearted. How am I ever going to let her go?
“If you say it’s used and free, then I’ll take it.” Walt’s voice brings my heart back down to earth. It’s probably best, considering it was hammering and threatening to jump right from my chest.
“Check, check.” Brynn grins at me. “Put those muscles to use, Connor.” She walks to the outdated TV and pats the top, then frowns, looking at her open palm, and drags it across the side of her jean shorts.
Walt watches us switch out his TV stands, barking out orders, while Brynn threatens to put him in a home. When we’re done, Brynn steps back to admire our work.
“Hey, Bryan?”
I can’t help my snicker. Brynn sends me a dirty look and glances back to Walt. “What?”
“What is a”—Walt squints at her midsection—“twat?”
Brynn’s eyes grow big as they lower to her shirt. In her excitement about the surprise, she must’ve forgotten what she was wearing. “I’ll tell you another time,” she sputters.
I hang my head and shake it. I have no words.
Walt says he’s going to make grilled cheese and starts for the kitchen, but Brynn hurries ahead of him. “I’ll do it,” she says.
“Knew the whole time she’d do that if I pretended I was going to do it,” he says, shuffling over to his chair.
I settle into the couch across from him, and Walt turns on the Diamondbacks game. The sound and smell of sizzling bacon wafts into the room.
“Brynn’s a special girl,” he says, after one at bat of silence. His eyes are trained on the TV, but he keeps talking. “I don’t know what happened in Phoenix, but it hurt her very badly. Wounded birds need time to heal before they can fly. I’m worried you’re going to clip her wing.”
For a man who carefully navigates his front steps and has more dust than hair, he’s alarmingly astute. He’s also wrong.
“I’m not planning on clipping her wing.” My eyes stay on the TV too. The volume gets louder as the pitcher strikes someone out at first base. “If she wants to fly, she can. I won’t hold her back.”
Now Walt looks at me. “Do you know what she’s running from?”
I nod.
