Did he cry out last night?
Double shit.
I sit up, throw the covers off, and rub my eyes. It takes me a moment to get oriented before standing and pulling on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, since I only sleep in my underwear.
I leave my room, head to Braeden’s, and knock on his shut door. “Braeden?”
There’s a whimper on the other side, but I’m not sure if he’s awake or dreaming. I knock again, but he doesn’t respond, so I grab the doorknob and twist it to find it unlocked. I ease the door open and peek inside his dimly lit room. Apparently, Braeden keeps the small light on the dresser on.
Because he’s moving around a bit, I realize he’s awake. Maybe a nightmare woke him up.
“Hey, Brae,” I say gently.
He doesn’t acknowledge me, but I know he’s aware of me since he settles down. I can’t help him if he keeps ignoring me. One minute, he’s clinging like a starfish, and the next, he wants nothing to do with me. The back-and-forth leaves me a bit rattled and confused about how to help him.
I sit on the edge of his bed and hover my hand over his arm, unsure if I should touch him. He’s curled on his side with his head buried underneath one of the pillows and turned away from me.
“Uhm, you okay?”
Stupid question. Of course, he’s not okay.
“Bad dream?”
Braeden doesn’t respond at all, so I rest my hand on his shoulder, and when he doesn’t flinch, I scoot closer.
“We can talk if you want.”
Instead of sitting up, he moves over, giving me more space on the bed. That’s an invitation, right? I stand and sit back down, leaning against the headboard and stretching my legs out.
I keep a box of tissues on the nightstand for guests, so I grab a few sheets and tap Braeden’s shoulder. “Hey, here. You can probably use these.”
He sits up and rubs his wet, red eyes, then snags the tissues from the box. He blows his nose and leans against the headboard like I am. His hands rest on his thighs, and he keeps his head down.
I have no idea what to say. I have no fucking words of wisdom or how to help him through his grief. But I have to try. I’m all he has now.
With a sigh, I allow myself a bit of vulnerability. Seth responded to that, so perhaps Braeden will also. “I miss them, too, kiddo. What a horrible friend I’ve been. We’ve all been busy with our lives, and… I lost track of the days, weeks, months… years. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life. And it’s not…”Ugh. This is the hardest part. The part where I admit why I never returned to Texas, but Braeden may trust me more if I’m honest. “My mother is the reason I’ve avoided Texas. She’s come to see me a few times, but I refuse to go back. Anxiety, I’m sure. I’d rather see her on my own turf, you know? Because of that, I never came back to visit… your parents. This is the first time you and I have officially met, and I’m so sorry for that. Perhaps if I visited, we would’ve known each other, then maybe you wouldn’t feel so alone.”
God, I hate being so fucking exposed. I shield all my insecurities and vulnerabilities like precious gems, keeping them locked up and secure. I’m a little minnow in a big sea of sharks, my mother being the shark. I learned early on that I must protect myself from her. Never give her anything she can use as fuel against me. It never works because she excels at poking, prodding, and peeling away my psyche with the precision of a surgeon.
Whatever I say must work because Braeden looks up at me with wet eyes and a trembling lip as the tears streak down his face.
“I miss them so much,” he says. As he does, his face crumbles, and he starts to sob.
I don’t hesitate to wrap my arm around him and pull him against me. My jaw clenches as I try to keep myself from crumbling apart. Braeden doesn’t fight me as he cries into my chest, his tears soaking my T-shirt.
I don’t know how long he cries for, but eventually, he grows silent and his body stills. A huge yawn escapes me, making my eyes water.Instead of climbing out of his bed and heading back to my room, I rest my eyes for a bit. I don’t want to disturb him now that he’s calm and sleeping.
He’s opened up a little and sort of let me in. Seth didn’t even need to do it for me. I feel almost accomplished.
Soon, I fall into a dreamless, but uncomfortable sleep.
By the next morning, Braeden is finally out of his room and sitting down with me at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of cereal. I watch him scroll through his phone as I sip my coffee.
He looks better today. Maybe he needed that one good cry and to cryonsomeone. I’d like to think I helped a little.
It’s still strange to see him in my house, and that sometime soon, he’ll be mine. I’m still wrapping my head around that. It’s fucking surreal. Is this how all new parents feel, or just my dumb ass?
“I’ve got a piano ordered. It should be here in a few weeks,” I say. “Do you have your flute and guitar here? Did you bring them?”
