by Sam Mariano
“I’m pretty fond of you, too.”
It’s not a precise reciprocation, but I didn’t expect one. I know it’ll come when he’s ready, but for now, I’ll take his fondness. Opening my eyes so he can look into them and see I’m not disappointed, I flash him a warm smile. “Glad to hear it.”
His gaze lingers on my face, but he doesn’t say anything for a moment. I can feel him probing, searching for any hurt feelings I’m trying to cover up. After a moment of not finding any, he seems to relax, and his hold on me tightens. “Thank you,” he says.
My brow furrows ever so slightly in puzzlement. “For what?”
He leans over and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Just for being you.”
21
Alyssa
It’s dark and the party is still going. A handful of people have left, but everyone who has stayed is drunk and having a good time—all but me and Brant, anyway. We’re having a good time, but we’re sober, sipping on water and punch instead of alcohol.
Theo is imbibing, and I’ve never seen him drunk before, but my God is he gregarious. He’s outgoing when he’s sober, but when he’s drunk, he’s almost amusing enough that I could forget he tried to have me killed.
Almost. Not quite.
The true testament to how drunk he is comes when he disappears inside the house and comes back out, but instead of going back to the party guests he hasn’t been avoiding all night, he comes straight over to us.
Sitting down in the chair across from Brant, he turns to the small table next to him and plunks down a bottle full of amber liquid and two glasses.
“Are you lost?” Brant asks him, sounding legitimately puzzled.
“Gentleman Jack,” Theo says to Brant, like that’s an answer. “I was saving this for when I’d had enough to drink to drink with you, and I think the time has come.”
“No thanks,” Brant answers easily.
“Come on,” Theo says, ignoring Brant’s protest and opening the bottle of alcohol. He pours liquid into both glasses and sets it back down, then he grabs one for himself and tries handing the other to Brant. “Have a drink with me.”
“No.”
“I know we don’t like each other, and we don’t have to like each other. We can go back to unwavering mutual hatred tomorrow, but tonight it’s a party, we’re family… come on, Brant. Have one drink with me.”
I look over at Brant to see if he’ll acquiesce, but he just watches Theo with a hard, untrusting look in his eyes.
I never really think about how unfriendly Brant is—it doesn’t bother me; I like his gruff ways—but sitting here across from Theo at his most sociable, it is abundantly noticeable.
After a moment passes and Theo is still holding out the untouched drink he poured for Brant, he finally sets it down again. Leaning in, lowering his voice, he asks, “Is there some reason you’re not drinking tonight? I’m only trying to socialize, not trying to sabotage you. Are you trying to get sober or something?”
“What?” Brant barks, scowling at his brother-in-law. “I’m not a fucking alcoholic, Theo. I don’t need to ‘get sober.’”
“It’s okay if you are, no judgment,” Theo insists, raising his hands in a gesture of harmlessness. “I think it’s respectable you’re trying to clean up your act for Alyssa and the baby.”
“Theo,” I finally say, feeling the need to intervene. I don’t know if he’s oblivious or actively trying to piss Brant off, but I can tell he’s treading on dangerous ground based on the anger radiating off my fiancé.
Theo looks over at me, and I immediately regret drawing his attention. His eyes twinkle and he offers a little smile. “You look pretty tonight, Alyssa.”
My heart leaps and I glance at Brant. Half of me wants to stay here and make sure this doesn’t go badly, but another part just wants to remove myself from the situation since my presence can only possibly inflame it.
“I have to pee,” I state, pushing up off my chair and walking away. If Theo wants to get himself punched in the face, that’s his business.
I really do have to pee, so as soon as I walk in the house, I head to the bathroom. I take my time, dawdling a bit, fixing my hair in the mirror and refreshing my lip balm. When I finally make my way back toward the kitchen, I find Bri standing there, absently wiping down the counter with a wet cloth.
I don’t think she hears me enter the room. Her head is down and she looks exhausted. Guilt stabs me and I move closer.
“Is there anything I can help with?” I ask.
Bri looks up in surprise and turns her attention to me, offering a tiny smile. “No, I’ve got it. Thank you.”
“Are you sure? You’ve been running around all day. I can at least help with the cleanup. Want me to take a trash bag outside and start collecting empty drinks and trash? You shouldn’t have to do everything yourself.”
Bri sighs, halting the movement of her washcloth and turning to look directly at me. “Has Brant told you about Nicole?”
I can’t quite mask my surprise at the abrupt turn in conversation. “Um…no, not really. I mean, I have a general idea, but he hasn’t given me specifics.”
Shaking her head, she looks down. “I really wish he would have.”
“He probably will.”
“It should have happened already. He should have told you before he proposed,” she states. “Marriage is hard enough when you go into it actually knowing the man you’re marrying, but keeping a secret like that—it’s not right. Now I’m stuck in this uncomfortable situation where I want my miserable brother to be happy for once, but I also don’t want you to enter into a binding agreement with the wool pulled over your eyes.”
“Brant’s not pulling the wool over my eyes,” I assure her. “I might not know all the details about Nicole, but I do know who Brant is. I know who I’m marrying. I appreciate your concern, but you don’t have to worry about that.”
Bri doesn’t appear to be convinced. “You don’t, though. If he wasn’t worried about you bailing on him if you knew the truth, he would have told you. I might not know your relationship, but he does. He doesn’t want you to fear him, so he’s not telling you, but it’s not right.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
Looking me dead in the eye, she says, “Maybe you should be.”
My stomach bottoms out, and I have to remind myself that Bri’s version of our whirlwind romance is so far from the truth, of course she thinks I’m in the dark. “I know what he’s capable of, Bri.”
“Do you?” she questions, searching my gaze. “Because I’m not sure, and I’m his twin sister.”
What does that mean, she’s not sure? I can’t help frowning. I assumed Bri knew the extent of it… is that not the case?
Bri turns away, but as she does, she starts talking. “My brother is an incredible man in a lot of ways, but in some of the most basic ways… he’s not.”
“No one’s perfect.”
Laughing a little, as if at a joke I’m not privy to, she says, “Oh, I know that.” Looking back at me over her shoulder, she meets my gaze. “Brant doesn’t, though. My brother is more unforgiving than anyone I have ever met. If he thinks you deserve it, he might give his trust once, but if you traipse on it, that’s it. It’s gone forever. You’ll spend the rest of your life on probation, if you’re that lucky. Judging from some of the brief interactions I’ve witnessed between you two, I feel like you might already be on probation, and if that’s the case, he’s going to make you miserable.”
I don’t know exactly what to say to that. I can’t refute her words. Earlier tonight, I felt like I was on probation after he got so mad at me over Theo.
“I don’t think he trusts you,” she says carefully, watching me. “Whatever his reason, that’s irrelevant. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. But if you think this is a bump in the road and you’ll get over it, he won’t. If you’ve lost his trust, he isn’t going to give it back. You will spend the rest of your relationship paying this debt, and
when you get tired of it? What do you do then, Alyssa? He’s not going to divorce you. If you think that’s an option, God help you, because you are wrong.”
“No, I know that. He already told me he’s never getting a divorce, but…I don’t know, I like that kind of devotion. I’d rather be with a man thoroughly intent on keeping me than one who’s okay with losing me.”
“I can see how that sounds romantic to you, but it’s not healthy, Alyssa. When Brant is in a relationship, he takes the commitment a little too seriously. It’s like he owns you, and you’re not allowed to change your mind.”
“But it’s like I own him, too,” I tell her. “It’s not one-sided. He’s not unfair about it. He belongs to me and I belong to him. What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong with it is that people have free will and they grow and change, and sometimes… sometimes they outgrow people and relationships. Sometimes they make mistakes, and relationships with normal people evolve as they develop, but there’s no evolution with Brant. He doesn’t let relationships end, and that’s why he’s spent so many years avoiding them. He knows he’s not a healthy partner. Maybe he’s willing to inflict himself on you, but that worries me, Alyssa. Maybe he’s willing to take a chance on you because he’s not too worried about what happens if it doesn’t work out.”
“I don’t like any of this,” I tell her, uncomfortable with the way she’s talking about him. “Nicole cheated on him, right? So, whatever happened to her, that sucks, but it’s not going to happen to me. I am not a cheater. Brant has made it abundantly clear to me that he expects me to uphold my vows, and frankly, I would even if he hadn’t. I wouldn’t make that kind of commitment if I didn’t mean it.”
“Everybody means it when the relationship is new, Alyssa. You can’t know how you’ll feel in a few years.”
“It doesn’t matter how I feel. I would never betray the man I love, the man I’m building a life and a family with. I wouldn’t hurt him that way just because I’m in a mood. I’m not afraid of Brant because I am never going to betray him. If I have to pay someone else’s debt for a little while, so be it, but I don’t think it will last forever. I think I’ll get through to him eventually, but if I’m wrong, that just means he’s hurt deeper than I thought he was. That’s no reason to turn on him. I like Brant because he’s loyal and protective. I’m loyal and protective, too, and I’m always going to protect him—from everyone.”
Bri straightens at the pointed way I fling everyone at her. I didn’t mean to get so worked up, so I take a step back and try to calm down.
“I’m only looking out for you, Alyssa.”
“I know. I appreciate that, I do, it’s just not easy to hear someone Brant is so protective of lobbying against him, and I feel like that’s what you’re doing.”
“Trust me, I’m not. I don’t want to hurt my brother, but I don’t want him to hurt you, either—not just for your sake, but for his. What happened with Nicole changed him…darkened him. That whole experience tarnished his soul and he never recovered. I don’t know what would happen to him if he did it again.”
Despite my defense, hearing “if he did it again” and knowing she’s referring to if Brant murdered me sends a trickle of discomfort dancing down my spine.
He almost did. That’s how we met. I don’t care how it looks that I’m with him anyway, but I can’t ignore the reality that the man I’ve chosen to do life with… well, he might kinda sorta be a murderer.
I probably should rip away the veil of mystery around it and find out what happened once and for all. Once I have the full story, I can shroud it again and move forward anyway, but at least I’ll know.
Bri is willing to share, and that’s so nice of her. I need to retract my claws, stop worrying about protecting Brant, and for just a minute, take advantage of this opportunity to get details Brant is reluctant to give me. It won’t change anything for me, but maybe it will help me better understand him.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” I tell her, lowering my gaze for a moment before bringing it back to her solemn face. “I know you’re only trying to help me. If you’re still willing to tell me the story, I would like to hear about what happened with Nicole.”
Bri looks at me for a long moment, then turns her gaze toward the back door. I guess she’s looking to make sure Brant’s not coming in after me. When she sees he isn’t, she gestures for me to take a seat at one of the chairs lined up along one side of the island. Bri remains on the other side so she can keep an eye on the door while we talk.
“When we were just a year or so younger than you are, Brant and I were pretty much inseparable. We had jobs at the same place, a lot of the same classes in school. We even dated people who were in each other’s orbit. I was dating his best friend, Brandon, and he was dating this girl I was sort of friends with, Nicole. Since we were all friends, we hung out together a lot.”
I can’t imagine Brant hanging out with anybody a lot. I’m not even sure I can envision Brant having close friends.
“One night, we were hanging out like we always did, drinking a little too much and just being stupid kids. Brant decided we should hike through the woods to the docks by the lake we lived near and take one of the boats for a ride.”
“A boat you owned?”
Bri shakes her head no. “One of our neighbors had a boat she never used. It had been her husband’s, but he died, and Brant had done some work for her around the house before. To thank him, she had let him take it out fishing one day, so he knew where she kept the keys.”
“So, he kinda stole a boat.”
Her lips curve up faintly. “Borrowed it, according to him.”
I crack a smile and cast a look over my shoulder. It’s too dark to see much outside, so I can’t see Brant, but hearing a little bit about what he was like at my age makes me wish I could’ve known him back then. It sounds like I would’ve liked him then, too.
Looking back at his sister, I ask, “Do you have any pictures of him when he was that age?”
“I do. You wanna see them?”
I nod fervently, and Bri goes into the other room for a couple minutes. When she comes back, she has an old leather photo album. She returns to her post on the side of the island where she can see outside, but she puts the album down on the counter for me.
There’s dust on the red leather cover and spine, telling me no one has looked at these in a long time. I run my hand over it, swiping some of the dust away, then I open the front cover.
On the first page is a picture of a little boy in jeans and a red flannel, standing next to a man with some of Brant’s features and even darker hair. They’re both holding fishing poles and standing in front of a lake or a river with a forest in the background.
“Is this Brant?” I ask, even though it must be. As far as I know, Brant and Bri only have a sister, no other brothers.
Her voice is warm. “Yep, that’s him. We were eight years old. I was there, too, but I was the one taking the picture.”
“Your mom didn’t come?” I ask absently, leaning forward and smiling at the image of tiny, adorable Brant. It’s crazy to see him as a kid.
“Our mother wasn’t around.”
There’s a guarded edge to her tone that steals my attention from the photo. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
Heaving a sigh, appearing to take on a little more weight, Bri tells me, “That’s sort of where Brant’s history with cheating women begins. Our mom cheated on our dad and left us to run off with the other man.”
“Oh, shit,” I murmur, looking down at the picture again.
“Our dad never remarried. He always loved her, never really recovered from her abandonment. He was a lot like Brant in that way, held on to things he would’ve been better off letting go.”
I look back up at her. “Was?”
Bri nods. “He passed a few years ago. Heart attack. They tried to operate, but he had another one on the table.”
“Oh, God, that’s awful. I’m so sorry, Bri.”
“He was a good man. Brant took after him in a lot of ways.”
“I wish I could’ve met him,” I tell her, looking down at the picture again. This time I look at the man in the photo, the one with Brant’s mouth and jaw. Now that I know heart disease might run in their family, I’m gonna get a lot pushier about making him eat some healthier meals.
I might have to learn how to prepare fish, after all.
“Anyway,” Bri says, reaching forward and grabbing a big chunk of pages. She flips them, glances at the page, then flips one more. “This is all of us when we were teenagers, a few months before that night.”
I lean over to get a closer look, and my heart immediately fills with warmth at the image of Brant at my age. “Wow, he was even hot back then.”
Bri snorts. “I guess. I’m obviously the wrong person to ask.”
“Look at that clean-shaven face and roguish smile. Oh my God.” His hair is a little longer in the picture and covered with a beanie. He’s wearing a coat, too, with a blue denim shirt underneath, unbuttoned to show a bit of his chest. Right at the base of his neck there’s a freckle I want to kiss, and I vow to, as soon as we get home tonight.
I would have crushed hard on him at my age, too.
My attention drifts from Brant in the photograph to the girl he has his arm wrapped around. She’s blonde, a little shorter than him. Pretty, too. Even knowing he’s currently sitting outside and has his arms around no one else, the image of him holding her like that sends a little surge of jealousy straight through me.
Mine.
“That’s Nicole?” I ask.
Bri nods, looking down at the picture. “She was pretty high-maintenance. Fun to be around, but she had a hard time staying in one place, and Brant, he’s as reliable as an old oak tree. Once you plant him somewhere, he’s there to stay. They were a terrible match,” she confides.
“Seems like it,” I murmur, looking away from her and back to the album. I want a copy of this photograph, but I want to crop her and the rest of them out. I just want the image of young Brant smirking at me with no one else around to make me jealous.