Him pointing out what I know brings a wave of emotion to me. I’ve been stuck in a house, shouting for someone to notice I still live there, and here he is pointing it out in one conversation.
“Yeah,” I respond, because what else is there for me to say? In an effort to turn the conversation back around, I ask him the same question he asked me. “Tell me something personal?”
Brandon notices my need to get back on track, and luckily, he doesn’t call me out on it.
“Something personal, huh?” he asks, and I nod, fighting the urge to smile at his boyish grin. “I think my brothers resent me.”
Not what I thought he was going to say. “How so?”
“I knew James the longest. And the youngest, Ford, probably won’t even remember him by the time he graduates college.”
“I think that’s the same for everyone who loses someone. The threat as every day goes by, you’re further and further from remembering the sound of their laugh or the feel of their hug, or the smell of the cologne they used to wear. But I don’t think your brothers could ever resent you.” The last sentence comes out as a whisper, holding more force than anything ever could.
“Do you resent your brother?” Brandon asks. His observational skills are at an all-time high.
“I do—or, did?” It comes out rhetorical and I think he knows this is something I need to get off my chest. “After the accident, I put a lot of the blame on Kamryn. As a moody teenager, I knew nothing about their relationship. To thisday, I still don’t know anything about their relationship. So I warred with myself that she should have been the one to save him because it’s been drilled into us that women should save men. But then I eventually teetered on to blaming my brother for leaving me alone. Because with therapy, I realize that it’s his fault.”
Tentatively, Brandon takes my hand in his, and I look down. My dainty, feminine hands intertwined with his clean, masculine hands. And for the first time, I feel tethered to this world when I feel like I’ve been floating in space with absolutely no idea how to get home.
“You told me that you have no one. Is that true? Not even your parents?”
I swallow hard and nod. “I have the people that I work with. They’re my family.”
“Do you think you have enough space to let someone else in?” Brandon asks, and I fully turn to look at him to see his gaze locked on me. It’s unnerving that he’s seeing me when I’ve felt invisible for years and comforting to know I’m finally being seen.
“I think I can move things around,” I whisper.
We hold each other's stare. The air charges and threatens to choke me from how much I feel from just being here with him. Until children laughing feet away breaks our spell.
“So, tell me. What are your plans after college? Wait, when are you done with school?” Brandon asks, suddenly changing the subject.
“Move out, hopefully. And, no. I’m taking summer classes so I’ll be done after this semester ends,” I announce.
“Do your parents know when you’re graduating?”
I shake my head.
“Well, if you plan to walk, I’d love to be there to cheer you on,” he tells me.
“Don’t you think we’re moving a little fast? We’re supposed to be friends and you’ve already run a red light and gone straight to hand-holding—now you wanna come to my graduation?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. And if you want to slow down, we can.”
“But…”
“But what?”
“I sensed a ‘but’ at the end.”
“You’re good,” he notes.
“It’s a habit. So, go on.”
“We can go slow if you want to. But I hope you don’t want to. I want to get to know you as more than an acquaintance or a lifelong family friend who shares shared pain. Because we may have known each other for years, but I have no clue who you are as a person.”
Huh. So we definitely have the same thoughts. “Yeah, same.”
“That’s it?” he teases, and it pulls a smile from me.
