“No, it doesn’t,” she sighed, her head turning to face me. “I guess I’m worried about what my family will say.”
“We’ve been over this Tess; you can’t live your life to please them. You have to live your life to pleaseyourself.”
“I know,” Tessa said, a smile on her face. She was silent for a moment, watching me. “Thank you so much for coming with me this weekend. It means a lot to me.” She added, her voice gentle.
“That’s what best friends are for,” I lifted my shoulder, trying to shrug away the deepness of the moment. I didn’t want her to bring uphimagain. I was glad he wasn’t going to be at the dinner, relieved that I could put off seeing him for a little longer, but I didn’t want to get into my feelings and thoughts right now. I felt too raw. “Am I dropping you off at the farm or at Brock’s?”
“Brock’s, please,” Tessa answered, a wicked grin on her face.
“You’re a fiend,” I smirked, turning down the road that led to Brock’s cabin. “Holy shit…it’s beautiful!” I gasped, coming to a stop in front of the elegant log house. It was the first time I’d been back to see it since he started building it. It looked less like an outback cabin, like I’d expected, and more like a cottage from a fairy-tale.
The screen door opened and Brock stepped out, his large dog at his heels.
“I'd ask for a tour, but I don't like the way he's looking at you right now,” I joked, shaking my head. Brock was staring at Tessa like he wanted to do a thousand unmentionable things to her—and I'd already seen enough of Brock to last me a lifetime.
“See you tomorrow?” Tessa smirked. I smiled and nodded, then watched her walk up the pathway and into Brock’s arms. My heart clenched in my chest, but I kept my smile on as I waved and slowly turned around, heading back to the highway that led into town.
Braden
Regret. It wasn’t exactly a feeling I was accustomed to having. As the youngest child in a broken family, I’d always done whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted to, without a single fuck about the consequences.
I was eleven when my good-for-nothing father died. I still remember that time like it was yesterday. I was always so afraid when he was alive. I was a tiny kid; I could barely eat because my stomach was always twisted with nerves. Being tiny gave me the advantage of hiding. I could easily disappear inside closets and underneath beds, and my drunk-as-shit father wouldn’t be able to find me.
I spent a lot of years hiding, and when he died…I became a completely different person. I felt like I could breathe for the first time ever. I developed an appetite for freedom.
My mom was always busy, always working. Before he died, after he died, that aspect of life never changed. Someone had to pay the bills, someone had to pay off the debt my father had accumulated between gambling, drinking, and spending money we didn’t have on shit he didn’t need—like more booze.
My older brother, Brock, was my keeper before our dad died, but afterwards, he left town to ride bulls in the rodeo. My older sister, Becky, was dealing with her own shit and that left me on my own. With no one around to keep me in line, I did whatever the fuck I wanted. I vandalized property, I got into fights, and I acted like a total nut job—after all, that was what everyone in town expected from me. Hell…it was all I expected from myself until she showed me that I was worth more.
Elle Thompson, with her long, flowing dark brown hair, those luminous doe-like eyes, and that creamy skin.
She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen, and the whole town would agree. I’d crushed on her long and hard throughout middle school. For years, I vied for her attention, acting like a complete douchebag. I did all the crap I could think of. I pulled her hair just so I could touch it, I called her names just so I could hear her voice, and I fooled around with girls in front of her, just hoping she’d turn those brown eyes my way.
When I was seventeen, I finally clued in to the fact that none of that shit was going to fly with her. Most girls liked being treated like crap by me, but Elle wasn’t like most girls. That was the appeal with her. So, I asked her out. She said no, but I kept asking—and finally, she said yes.
At first, I thought I wanted her because she was hot. She was always beautiful, but puberty had graced her with curves and a rack that would drive any hormonal teenage boy mad with want. She drove me wild—God bless the person who invented the mini-skirt.
But I soon found that my desire for Elle ran deeper than flesh and bone. Her soul called to mine. She showed me how to open up, how to love and be loved. She showed me that I was worth something more than what people expected me to be.
And I thoroughly messed it up. Blame it on grief or on selfishness, but I broke her heart, and I let her walk away from me. I told myself it was only a matter of time, Elle would see sooner or later that I was going nowhere fast, and she’d make her break. I was just ripping the Band-Aid off quickly. I told myself I was protecting my heart from the inevitable.
After she left, I spent six months drinking myself stupid until my siblings gave me the cold hard slap of reality and told me I was on the exact path to follow in Dad’s footsteps. I’ll never forget the look on Becky’s face when she told me she couldn’t have me around her son anymore, that I was too much like him.
I spent three months in rehab and then enrolled in the mechanical engineering program at Algonquin College, five hours away from home. Three years later, I graduated top of my class and returned to Parry Sound, not only because I had nowhere else to go, but because I had to fix all the damage I’d caused to those I’d loved most.
Elle was never far from my mind. She, along with my family, were the reasons I got sober and went to college. I wanted to be a better man for her, a better brother for my siblings and a better uncle for my nephew. But I took too long, and for all I knew…she’d already moved on.
It was pointless to hold out hope, and yet I did. I hungered to see her again. I thirsted for her in a way I never thirsted for a drink, and I was a goddamn alcoholic. My addiction for Elle was thicker than my addiction to booze.
Moving back home meant that eventually, I would run into Elle, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my distance if that happened. It was all I could think about during the five hours it took me to drive from Ottawa. I told myself that if she was truly happy without me, I’d let her go, even if it killed me. But if there was a chance she still burned for me, I was all in, and I’d never take her for granted again.
“Uncle Braden!” My nephew’s voice was barely fair warning before he barrelled into me, his small arms wrapping around my legs in a furious hug. “I’ve missed you!”
“I missed you too, buddy,” I said, affectionately rubbing the top of his head. He peered up at me with big blue eyes, a gapped grin on his face. “Dude, what happened to your teeth? Did you get knocked out?”
“No!” Aiden giggled. “I lost them! I’m seven years old now, Uncle Braden. I’m getting my big teeth!” He puffed his chest out with importance.
“Oh, that’s right,” I smirked. “Guess that means you’ll have to start working soon.”
