When he said he had things to make a massive salad with, I didn’t know he meant the dressing as well.
“Nope. It’s salted enough,” I assure him. And it is. “Who taught you how to make this?”
“My mom.”
The mood between us takes a left, and after the day we had where we were just allowed to enjoy each other freely, this is the last thing I want. We don’t talk about our families that much. We can’t without reopening wounds that have slowly begun to not ooze as much. But we have to. If Brandon and I see this lasting beyond the summer, we’ll have to broach the topic of our parents.
“Did she teach you to cook?” I ask hesitantly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see his hands falter in their movements of chopping up the chicken before resuming. I wonder if he’s just as shocked that I brought her up as I am.
“She did,” he says slowly and begins chopping again. “She taught me some basics when I was around thirteen. And around that time, well, Malcolm was three, Mom was eight months pregnant with Evan, and Dad was working double shifts to help raise a family of almost six. I guess I decided to make my parents' lives easier by taking care of me and James. And eventually Malcolm.”
I toss the rinsed and chopped lettuce into a large mixing bowl. “Gosh, it’s still so crazy to think that he and I are the same age. And that you have two younger brothers. Did you like growing up with brothers?”
“Yeah,” he says slowly, “although I think my mom was secretly upset that she never had a daughter.”
My brain thankfully catches up with my mouth, and I manage to avoid asking about Emily. I know she was engaged to James. From what I remember, Liam said they were meant to be together after their first meeting. But she and I were never that familiar with one another. Sure, we’d see each other at the Hayes’s family cookout every now and then, but she’s as much of a stranger as Brandon was to me.
“I asked my parents once why it was just Liam and I,” I begin without prompt and I feel the edges of darkness begin to surround me. “They always said they just wanted two perfect kids. Well, jokes on them because they have one dead and one diagnosed with clinical depression. Maybe they should’ve had three and gotten that one perfect child they dreamed about.”
“Hey,” Brandon scolds and sets his hand on my arm.
I sigh, turning my head toward him to let him know I’m acknowledging him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, it’s good that you’re getting this out.”
“Is it?” I rhetorically ask. “Because I can’t help but think I’d have my parents around if I had siblings. And I can’t helpbut think about the unknown if my brother didn’t crash his truck into the back of an eighteen-wheeler.”
“Angie…”
“No. Brandon, we’re going to have to talk about the elephant that willalwaysbe in the room when it comes to us. You and I are doing a fantastic job skirting around the reason why we’re together. But for once, we need to get this out in the open,” I tell him as my eyes fill with tears.
He turns me to face him and places his hands on my shoulder. Begrudgingly, my eyes travel up from his chest to his hazel eyes.
“Okay. Your brother made a life-altering decision that changed the dynamic of three families. My family will always have a gaping hole in it. Your family—well, it seems like your parents would rather run from the past and leave you to deal with the future by yourself than face what’s right in front of them. And Emily…I don’t know if she’s healed her heart because she wrote us off.” Brandon gently wipes away the fallen tears from under my eyes. “Some days are going to be hard. In fact, every day is going to be hard when it comes to us being together. You know that and I know that. But these hard days? I want to get through the hard days with you despite our pain being rooted in the same spot. And if talking about our brothers is going to cause each of us to clam up, then this will never work. I don’t want that. I want this to work. You and me.”
I nod, blinking as more tears fill my eyes. “I never told you how sorry I am. You lost a brother.”
“I did. And I know you are,” he says with a nod. “but you lost your only brother.” Brandon expresses and pulls me into his chest when I can no longer keep the tears from overtaking. With our dinner forgotten, he lets me cry for the first time in months.
And with each tear that falls, I fall a little bit more in like with Brandon Hayes.
I fillmy tray up with as many empty glasses as I can carry and head back inside, grateful for the covering as the rain that started this morning hasn’t let up. Philly is playing an afternoon away game against Atlanta, one of our biggest rivals, so we very much expected today to be busy. But to be close to standing room only is not something we expected, so we’re slightly understaffed and had to call in some security to keep everything safe.
It doesn’t help that I woke up sore from golf yesterday and puffy eyes from crying, but, hey, at least the rain matches my mood.
After my sour mood got the best of me, Brandon and I ate in tense silence. We still talked like we’d been doing for the past month, but that damn elephant was making a lot of noise in his dining room while he and I both talked surface-level. I guess I underestimated just how hard it would be to date someone—let alone the difficulty of dating the older brother of the man your brother accidentally killed. And yes, whether it was an accident or not, Liam still killed someone. So after we finished dinner and cleaned up, I kissed him and went home.
He didn’t stop me. And deep down, maybe I was hoping he would. Are all relationships designed like this? Where things get tough and you leave it awkward for an undisclosed amount of time? Because if that’s the case, then how do people do this?
I hop behind the bar to help out Joe and Caleb as all mytables are taken care of for the moment, so I have time, and they look like they need it.
“What are you doing back here?” Joe asks as he scoops some ice out for a cocktail.
“My tables are all caught up and I figured you two needed some help,” I say sweetly.
“If you wanna be of assistance, will you head down to the basement and see what’s low?” Caleb tries to cajole me into doing his work.
