He steps off the stage and walks to me, truth stick extended.
I reach for it cautiously. Baring your truth is terrifying.
“I’ll give it a shot,” I say, faking bravery. I reach for the branch, my fingertips brushing against his. For the shortest second I leave them there, and when I feel the weight of the stick in my palm, I turn away toward the stage.
Brady takes my place in the second row. He props his feet on the row in front of him, grasping his hands and placing them on his bent knees.
“I’m not sure how to begin,” I tell him, shrugging, then remember what he said about shrugging. He’s totally right.
“Start small,” he suggests. “A food you hate, a smell you dislike. Something you love most about your grandma. Once you start, sometimes it’s hard to stop. You’ll see.”
I take a deep breath. “I hate tomatoes. I like tomato sauce though, and salsa. I can’t stand putting gas in a car because the smell of gasoline disgusts me. And people who like the smell of gasoline scare me.”
Brady’s shoulders move with suppressed mirth. I wasn’t trying to make him laugh.
“I’m just being honest,” I tell him.
He nods and gets control of his quaking shoulders, making a motion for me to continue.
“I don’t like how Warren’s parents or his sister treated me, even if I do understand it. And I’m mad at his sister, because before the accident happened she was my friend.” A small piece of the anvil on my chest breaks off and floats away. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to move on from here. I’m single, but I’m not. I’m followed by his ghost, except I’m not, because he’s not dead. I have this guilt inside me for being alive when his life is given to him by machines. And I’m mad at him for being human and getting hurt. And I’m mad at myself for not being the kind of person who never leaves his side. It sounds selfless, like something from a storybook. Does it make me selfish that I wanted to go to Oregon, that I needed a break from all the hurting? I stayed in our apartment and I was surrounded by his things. And it was all so painful.” It’s coming off my chest, piece by piece, but there’s a chunk still there, the worst truth of all. Before I can shove it down, this dark and shameful thought, I let it free.
“There’s a part of me that’s relieved I’m not marrying him.” As I say it, I can’t believe it’s me talking. This truth is one I’ve pushed away, hidden deep down under the grief and sadness.
“There were things about him I wasn’t sure I could live with forever, and that terrified me, because I loved him. How can you love someone and also be unsure about them at the same time?” My whole body feels like it’s going to give out, even with the weight off my chest now. I sink down slowly onto the dirty concrete, the truth stick falling from my grasp. “I’m a horrible person.”
Brady’s there in an instant, gathering me into his arms. He pulls me to his chest and holds me. I cry until the tears run out, until there is nothing left inside me. His fingers caress the length of my arm.
“You’re brave, Addison.”
There’s one last piece of anvil on my chest, one last morsel of truth, and I’m either brave enough or crazy enough to release it.
“Brady?”
His chin dips and he looks down at me, his blue eyes deep, searching.
“Do I need the stick to tell you one more truth?”
A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. “No.”
“I like you, Brady Sterling.”
Brady stills, his face suspended over mine, as my words sink in.
Then he lowers his face, or maybe I’m lifting mine. I can’t tell.
His lips press against mine, a gentle caress. A reassurance that my truths are safe. His mouth isn’t taking, but giving. My fingers wind into his hair, and I kiss him back with more force than I mean to.
After all this time hurting, all this time confused and lonely and sad, Brady’s kiss is everything.
15
Brady
I swearthat kiss was not why I brought her here.
I wasn’t expecting anything, hoping only to give her a respite from the sadness that plagues her. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how she’d respond to the truth stick. It was just something silly my camp friends and I did when we were younger, but I remember how much better it made me feel after my turn with it. That was before I was a full-fledged teenager and would’ve scoffed at the idea of sharing my feelings so openly.
Addison embraced it, and I loved watching her find her voice. She was timid at first, but it didn’t take long before she was letting it all go.
