One of his sisters was out with her friends, the other attending college in Dalton.
And I followed him upstairs to his bedroom.
Before making love, we talked for a long time as I explored his space, discovering that he was a lover of books like I had always been. He had a bookshelf so eclectic it could have been the fiction section of a library—everything from old westerns to gritty mysteries and more recent thrillers with names I recognized, like David Baldacci. He admitted to not having read them all, but the older books were ones he’d taken from his grandparents. When his grandpa had been put in a nursing home when Braden was in the eighth grade, his grandmother had asked if he wanted them. “He had Alzheimer’s, so he’dstopped reading like he used to, and grandma wanted me to have them.” As a younger boy, he’d always picked a book to read, much like checking one out at the library, bringing it back to exchange it the next time he was there.
“I still need to tackle the westerns. Those were my grandpa’s favorites.”
“You should bring some of them on tour. We always have so much downtime.”
“I can’t read on the bus. It gives me motion sickness,” he explained.
“But in the hotels—”
“I wanted to spend time with you.”
Oh. Why couldn’t I love this man the way he deserved to be loved? He was an absolute dream, saying all the right things—and I knew he wasn’t just saying those words to get into my pants. We’d already agreed to move forward…so I knew what he was saying was the truth.
And now, as I lay in his twin bed, a little small for the two of us, butintimateas he’d said before falling asleep, I contemplated our future. God, I’d been so blind to Braden all these years, always picturing him as Zack’s sidekick—when, actually, that title was probably better bestowed tome. Just because Braden had always been quieter and seemed more docile, hadn’t had an ego that had needed attention all the time didn’t mean he wasn’t a fully realized person.
There was so much more to him—and I found myself wanting to get to know him better. I felt like that was a step in the right direction.
As I finally drifted off to sleep, it was to a mantra I kept repeating silently in my head:Braden’s a good guy and I’m the luckiest girl. I will learn to love him.
He deserved that and so much more.
By early Saturday afternoon,I began having doubts about our “intervention birthday dinner” with Zack. His mother had texted Braden and me that morning to make sure we were still on—and we both assured her we were. Even Cy planned to be there.
Although I now had money for gas and had planned to drive to Dalton, Braden insisted upon taking me. We hadn’t yet spent the night at my house, especially because I’d seen signs of my mother’s new boyfriend in the kitchen the morning when Braden brought me home after our date.
But I’d spent every evening since with Braden.
He told me he’d put most of the money we’d gotten from the label into a CD, and I questioned it, until he explained he meant aCertificate of Deposit—and he reserved just enough for food, gas, and his cell phone bill.
I hadn’t even thought of anything like that. I’d just put it in a checking account so I could use my debit card whenever I needed to. Six-thousand dollars wouldn’t last long—but I was glad we hadn’t asked for more. Once again, I had that gnawing feeling that we’d be forever indebted to the label.
When the doorbell rang, I told my mom goodbye. Once again, she was getting ready for her own date, so I wouldn’t invite Braden to our house. Although his twin bed was overly snug, we made it work. The way he held me every night cradled against his chest made me feel warm and loved.
Even though much of the time my thoughts during those silent times drifted to Zack.
Braden looked cute as always, his light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and he smelled like the cologne I was starting to associate with him, something with a heavy sandalwood scent, earthy and woodsy. The air breezing through thedoor was warm, reassuring me that cold days were finally behind us.
After giving him a quick peck on the cheek, I asked, “Ready?”
“Not really,” he replied, echoing the heaviness in my heart, “but it needs to be done.”
We didn’t talk much during the drive, probably because we were both a little anxious. Not only was this new territory, but we didn’t know how Zack would react. When he was lucid, it often seemed that he was willing to admit he had problems—but, more and more, his rock star persona would take over, driving him to believe drinking was the only way he could cope.
When we got to Zack’s mother’s house and approached the front door, I felt a sense of dread. The last time I’d been here was when Zack and I were a couple—and, boy, did I have memories. My heart and gut ached for that man like they hadn’t in a while, and I found myself gripping Braden’s hand too tightly in response.
“I’m nervous too…but this is the right thing.”
I felt grateful that he’d misinterpreted my visceral response.
At the door, Braden knocked—but only the screen door was closed, and Zack’s mom said, “Come on in.” Soon we were in the kitchen, finding that Zack’s grandpa and Cy were out back grilling steaks.
Braden asked, “Where’s Zack?”
“He had an appointment with his tattoo artist a few hours ago, but he should be back soon.”
