Kent rubs a hand along the back of his neck in an obvious tell.
I’m worried about him.
Whatever this thing is between him and Keaton must be serious because he was visibly upset in the car last night, and I’m attributing his nightmare last night to it. It’s only the second time Kent has woken up in the middle of the night, shouting and thrashing, with sweat beaded on his brow and rolling down his back.
The first time it happened, when I asked him about it, he said he used to get a lot of nightmares as a kid and he still had the occasional one. I accepted that explanation without question, but now I’m wondering if there isn’t more to it. I haven’t forgotten the panic attack he had in the bar either, and I’m wondering if it’s all connected.
Sliding my hand under the table, I lace my fingers through his and squeeze, letting him know I’m here for him. He grabs my hand with both of his, clinging to me like I’m his lifeline, and my heart floods with love for this man.
Our mutual confessions of love make me feel like I could climb mountains. Like we can overcome any obstacles in our path, but I’m not a vulnerable little kid or a naïve teenager anymore, and I know it’s not that simple. Having found something this precious means it will hurt all the more if I lose it, and I make a silent promise to myself to do everything in my power to protect our love, to always prioritize my needs and Kent’s needs, to let nothing come between us.
Keaton and Austen step into the dining room, and a muscle pops in Kent’s jaw. Tension bleeds into the air.
“Hey, Mom, Dad, Presley, Kent.” Keaton drops his jacket on the back of a chair across the table from us, before sitting down.
“Hey, everyone,” Austen adds, claiming the empty seat beside his fiancé.
Alex, James, and I return their greeting while Kent quietly decomposes. His leg shakes underneath our conjoined hands, and his back is rigidly stiff.
“Let’s just get this done,” he says through gritted teeth, leveling his brother with a dark look.
James clears his throat. “We’re going to have our lunch in the sunroom so you kids can talk in private.”
Alex puts plates and cups on a tray, handing it to James. Drawing her shoulders back, she clasps her hands in front of her body, preparing to lay down the law. “We love you all, and I know whatever it is you will get through this.” Her gaze bounces between her two sons. “The three of you were so close growing up,” she continues, obviously including Keanu in her comment. “It was a joy to watch. You instinctively always knew where each other was, and you defended one another when anyone said or did anything nasty. You three were a solid team, and you always,always, had each other’s backs. I don’t know where it went wrong or why, but you need to remember who you are to one another because you have always been more than just brothers.” Tears pool in her eyes and it’s obvious how much their separation has hurt her. “Please make this right, because it’s breaking my heart.”
James sets the tray down, circling his arm around Alex, holding her to his chest while she sobs as he leads her out of the room. Austen stands, taking the tray and following them out.
“Do you want to speak alone?” Keaton asks Kent.
Kent shakes his head. “I don’t keep secrets from Presley.”
Keaton smiles. “Like I don’t keep secrets from Austen.”
Kent’s mouth curls into a snarl, and I plead with my eyes, begging him to at least try.
“Would you like tea or coffee?” I ask Keaton while we wait for Austen to return.
“Coffee, please,” he says, pushing two cups toward me. I fill both with coffee from the silver pot as Keaton fills his plate and Austen’s plate with food.
“Is she okay?” Keaton asks when Austen reenters the room.
He nods, sitting down beside Keaton, placing his arm along the back of his fiancé’s chair. “She’s fine.”
I squeeze Kent’s hand in reassurance.
“What is it you want to say?” Kent asks, his voice gruff.
“Have you been getting my texts?” Keats asks, and I mask my surprise. I had no idea Keaton had been texting Kent because he never said one word to me about it.
“I have.”
“So, you know I love you and I forgive you.”
Wow. That could not be easy to say. My respect for Keaton has magnified ten-fold.
Austen’s face is a mask of neutral calmness, but from the way he’s drilling his eyes into Kent, I know he believes Kent is at fault and he’s expecting a grand gesture. One I’m not sure Kent is in a place to deliver.
“How can you?” Kent asks, looking down at the table rather than at his brother. “I have done nothing to earn your forgiveness.”
