“Yeah, that’s the plan,” I said out loud.
I took a deep breath and then turned the car on. I turned the seat warmer on, hoping it would take the chill off. As I carefully drove through the parking lot and neared the exit, I suddenly wondered what kind of car Brandon drove. I allowed myself to feed into this curiosity and drove around the parking lot a couple of times. I had no clue, of course, and it was just a way of me telling myself to stay and be closer to him.
“Fuck, go home,” I told myself.
Things were going okay on the drive home until I saw what I assumed was a dad and his son on the sidewalk. The dad was obviously teaching the boy how to ride a bike. As I was stopped at the stoplight, I watched the dad hold on to the kid’s seat and handlebars as they slowly went down the sidewalk.
More tears fell from my eyes. The huge lump in my throat was making it hard to breathe normally. My pulse had increased as I thought about my dad teaching me to ride a bike. We’d practiced on the long driveway and the patio of our backyard. A feeble laugh escaped my throat as I remembered Mom telling Dad to make sure to catch me if I fell. The night I was able to ride the bike unassisted, Mom made cupcakes and put these plastic bikes on the frosting.
A loud honk from the car behind me startled me and yanked me out of my comforting memory. The light had turned green, and I was more focused on the dad with the kid than paying attention. I proceeded through the intersection and glanced at the dad and the kid as I drove by. They were both smiling.
I could have taught Brandon how to ride a bike.
I finally made it home and parked. As I carried the coffee, my Socks and Coffee mug, and Brandon’s recommended double chocolate muffin, all I could think about was him. I had my game face on in case Hollis or Patrick were still here. I had a plan. I shoved the key in the lock, and when I stepped inside, I was seized with the fear that I wouldn’t hear from James again.
From the open entryway, I scanned the place to see if I spotted Hollis or Patrick. I could see the kitchen, great room, nook, and part of the formal dining room. Hollis and Patrick were sitting on the couch talking, and they both turned to look at me.
Hollis stood and Patrick soon followed.
No. Just stay the fuck where you are.
“Hey, bub,” Hollis said. They both rounded the couch and walked toward me.
Don’t look at me. Don’t talk to me.
I swallowed hard and looked away from them to steel myself. I could feel my heart pounding as I walked into the kitchen. I set the coffee on the counter and set the pastry bag beside it. My fingers still clutched the mug that dangled by my side.
Despite telling myself to remember the plan and walk away citing the headache, I couldn’t. As Hollis and Patrick neared, I could feel myself growing weaker and weaker. The lump in my throat grew, my lower jaw quivered, and everything became blurry as my eyes filled with tears.
“Chase.” Patrick said my name so calmly. Like he knew I was a second away from falling apart. And why the fuck not? I was the only one out of my brothers who had the ability to fall the fuck apart over things.
“Chase, did you see him?” Hollis asked.
Of course Hollis would ask. Of fucking course.
I lowered my head and stared at the mug in my hands. When I thought about Brandon designing a mug with wild socks, I nodded and then everything rushed out of me.
“He’s tall,” I managed to say. I raised my head long enough to look at Hollis, and when I saw him walk toward me, I quickly lowered my head again and backed away.
“Chase—”
I pictured Brandon as he’d walked by me in the coffee shop.
“He’s tall. He has light brown, almost blond hair. Bright blue eyes.” I coughed and gasped for air as Hollis wrapped his arms around me.
“Chase, try to calm down, bub.”
“I can’t! I was so close! He was right there! But I wasn’t allowed to talk to him or anything. Nothing has changed.”
Hollis reached down and tried to take the mug out of my hand. I gripped the handle tighter and pushed away from him.
“Relax, bub. I was just taking it to put it on the counter so you don’t drop and break it.”
“What’s on the mug?” Patrick asked.
I held it up so they could see the cartoon sketch of a guy wearing colorful socks while sipping coffee. I was so overwhelmed with emotions that I could hardly talk.
“Socks and Coffee mug. This is part of the second series. There are four mugs in the series. My kid…” I held the mug out toward Hollis. He took it from my hands and then I slumped against the counter. I watched his face when he turned the mug upside down.
