I get that we need to say goodbye to our loved ones, and that it can give many of us closure. At the same time, it reopens wounds that are just starting to close.
I rest my hand on his bony shoulder. He’s only recently started eating better, so I hope he’ll be putting on some weight. “But I won’t make you if you find yourself unable to go.”
He nods and walks toward his room. Cicero weaves around his ankles, so he picks up the cat and holds him. “Uhm, I think I wanna lie down for a bit.”
I sigh, wishing he wouldn’t have to suffer like this. I barely know the kid, but he seems sweet, smart, and thoughtful. No one should have to lose their parents like that. “Okay. I’ll make us something to eat, in case you’re hungry later.”
He doesn’t respond as he heads to his room.
Poor kid.
“Hey,” I say before he reaches the bedroom door. He stops, but doesn’t turn around. I rub my neck awkwardly because I feel clueless about how to care for him properly or how to make him feel better. “Do you, ah… need a hug?”
He slowly shakes his head and continues to his room.
With my phone still in my hand, I send a quick text to Seth.
Me: Setback. Can’t make it.
Seth: Braeden?
Me: Yeah. We got a call about the funeral for his parents.
Seth: Poor kid. It’s going to cut fresh and deep.
Me: Yeah, he’s burying himself in his room again.
Seth: He’ll get through this with you in his life.
Me: I guess.
I’m not so sure. I’m terrible at this emotion thing. Growing up, I was taught to shut off my feelings. Then Grant’s cheating made it even harder. And fuck knows I’ve been trying.
Me: I’m also going to miss poker night.
Seth: Don’t worry about that.
Me: Thanks.
I hang up the phone before heading to the kitchen to figure out what we’re going to do for dinner. Something easy. Whenever Braeden gets like this, he doesn’t eat. Comfort food. That’s what he needs. Maybe some homemade spaghetti. Everyone loves spaghetti, right? The note from his parents said he loved it, if I recall correctly.
As I grab the Italian sausage from the freezer to thaw, someone rings my doorbell. I set the package on the counter and answer the door, where I find Seth, carrying a box full of food, and his gaggle of kids.
“Hey,” I say stupidly.
“We thought we’d bring dinner to you and Braeden.”
There goes my stomach again, doing those weird spins, along with a heavy dose of emotions. Seth’s thoughtfulness not only touches me, but it tells me he deserves the fucking world handed to him on a silver platter.
He looks up at me with those pretty blues filled with kindness and empathy that humbles me.
For the first time in years, I want someone. I want him, and I can’t have him.
“My hero.”
He absofuckinglutely needs a giant plate of chocolate chip cookies.
Chapter 15
