I laugh. “We were let go for a reason. We were innocent. Even my dad can’t make something like murder go away. Nor would he, I don’t think.” Even as I say the words, I’m not sure of their truth. My dad made a lot of my sister’s shenanigans disappear, but that was petty stuff. Nothing like taking a life.
“I believe you,” she says, then yawns. “Sorry, I was up early making the batter for the muffins. My grandma cooked the first batch so I could get in my run.”
“No worries,” I assure her. “I’m tired, too. Maybe we should take a nap and then later would you want to—”
A loud ring fills the air.
“Oops, sorry.” Addison takes her hand from mine and digs into her pocket. “I was listening to music before I ran into you earlier and I must’ve turned up the ringer along with the volume.”
She frowns at the phone, and I can see it’s a number she doesn’t have stored, but it’s an area code we both know.
Chicago.
Why does the sight of it shoot nerves straight into my chest? I know the answer to that, and it’s incredibly selfish.
It can’t be what I’m thinking anyhow, because surely she’d have Warren’s family’s number stored in her phone?
My thunderous thoughts have caused me to miss the first few sentences of her conversation, but now I’m tuned in.
Addison’s expression, which was so happy and carefree before the call, is not only sad, it’s anguished.
“I don’t need the venue anymore. I—”
She pauses, and the person on the other end speaks.
“No, it’s not that it didn’t work out. It’s… it’s…” Her eyes blur as she struggles with her words. “It’s just not needed anymore. Thank you for checking in.”
She hangs up, setting down the phone and slowly sliding it away from her, as if creating distance can decrease the pain stirred up by the call.
“Addison?” I say her name softly.
She turns to look at me, her blue eyes bright and a tear stuck in her lower lashes. “That was a wedding venue I filled out an interest form for last year. They wanted to let me know they’d had a last-minute cancellation if I was still interested in having my wedding there.” Her voice is raspy, and so, so sad.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. My hand rubs slow circles on her back.
“I don’t know what to do.” She closes her eyes. “Everything is confusing. I have so many thoughts and emotions, and they all feel so wrong.” Her eyes open and she looks at me.
I wish I could take it all away. All the pain and sorrow. I want to take it all away and replace it with something good.
“Addison?”
She finishes wiping a napkin across her eyes and looks at me.
“I have an idea. Are you in?”
She eyes me for a moment, then nods.
“Let’s take showers, then meet me at my cabin when you’re done. Dress like we’re going on a walk.” I stand up.
“Thanks, Brady.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
She catches my hand. “Yes, you have.”
Without thinking, I lower my lips to her temple and quickly kiss her. It’s not a big deal. It’s an act of kindness, a human touch offered to another person in need.
Except it’s not.
And I think we both know it.
14
Addison
My hand is raised, poised to knock, but it remains suspended in the air. I don’t know what Brady has planned, and I’m nervous.
The call from the wedding venue earlier really threw me.
Is any of this a good idea? Should I be spending time with Brady?
Am I even single? I mean, yes, I am single. For all intents and purposes, I’m single. Warren’s family made certain I knew that if I was leaving their son behind in Chicago, then I was closing the door on ever being a member of their family or marrying their son at all.
As if there’s any chance their son will wake up. I researched, I read, until my eyes were bleary. Here’s what I learned: Warren has a snowball’s chance in hell of waking up.
Still, everything feels unfinished.
Warren’s family thinks they’ve cut the cord for him, but only Warren and I can do that. And at this point, only I’m capable of doing that.
And I have. Sort of. At least, I thought I had. I came to Lonesome under the impression that I was closing that chapter in my life. But then I met Brady, and the attraction I know we both feel confuses the hell out of me. Because alongside the attraction is guilt, and it sits heavy on my chest like an anvil.
The door to cabin seven swings open, even though I didn’t knock. Brady smiles, but it’s not a warm, welcoming grin. Restraint keeps his lips from really curling upward, and his eyes are wary.
“You okay?” he asks tentatively.
I nod. Truthfully, I’m not okay, but I need to be. And I will be. Eventually.
Brady surveys me for a moment, probably determining the level of truth in my answer. He must decide it’s enough, because he steps out of the cabin and turns back around to lock the door.
Brady glances down at my feet. Is he checking my footwear?
“We’re going on a walk, back to where we ran into each other this morning, and then further back from there.” Brady pulls out his phone and studies something on it.
“Do you know where you’re going?” I know I teased him earlier about getting lost, but I’m asking right now out of genuine curiosity.
Brady’s gaze shifts to me as I walk beside him down the steps and out to the trail. “I know where we’re going.”
“And we need a backpack for it?” I raise my eyebrows at the small black pack he’s toting.
“Water, snacks. Bear spray.”
“Ah.” I nod. “All good things.”
Brady leads the way this time. He must’ve really studied a map or something, because he makes turns without hesitation. Maybe he’s doing some weird guy thing where he redeems himself for getting lost before.
We’re quiet the entire walk, and I’m good with that. There aren’t many people a person can be with in a comfortable silence, and probably far fewer who can be that way after knowing each other a short time. Apparently Brady and I fall into that category.
We come to the spot where I saw him huffing and growling this morning when he realized he didn’t know which way to go. Brady turns left, and I catch on to where he’s taking me.
Soon we reach the amphitheater, just like I thought. It’s an old place, an artifact from a youth summer camp adjacent to Sweet Escape’s property. It closed down some time ago when the owners grew too old to run it.
Brady looks so excited I don’t have the heart to tell him I already know about this place.
“Wow!” I look around, doing my best to feign excitement.
Brady frowns. I must be really awful at faking it.
“You know about this place?”
His disappointed face is probably the cutest thing ever.
I scrunch my nose and nod. “I can still pretend it’s a surprise.”
Brady grunts his answer. His eyes search the area, and I’m about to ask what he’s looking for when he finds the object still unknown to me. Leaving me on the top step, he walks down and to the center of a row, reaching down and lifting a smallish branch.
“This,” he says, his tone suddenly serious. “Is the branch of truth. Whoever stands on the stage and holds this branch is free to say what they think without persecution or judgment.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. Brady’s serious face and tone are too much for me.
Brady breaks from his role and smiles. He comes back down the row, and I walk forward to meet him.
“I went to a summer camp when I was a kid, and we used a branch of truth as an exercise. It was actually pretty cool. Liberating.”
Hmm. It sounds interesting. There are plenty of thoughts I’d like to release from my mind, if only to lessen the hold they have on me.
“You go first
,” I say, nodding my head at Brady. I’m feeling a little shy at the notion of baring my soul, even though I’m sure it will feel good.
Brady walks down the steps and I follow, breaking off to sit front and center in the second row while he goes on to the stage. It’s only a foot or so off the ground, so we’re on nearly the same level.
Brady steadies his gaze on me, and I don’t see playfulness in his eyes anymore. As I watch, his chest expands with the deep breath he takes, and slowly contracts as he releases it. Holding the stick in his fist, he begins speaking his truth.
“I’m still angry with Lennon for not choosing me, even though I think she made the right choice. I’m mad at Finn for not backing away all those years ago when he realized I liked her too. Sometimes I think if he were a real friend, he’d have given up his dream for mine. It’s the epitome of selfish, but it’s true. In that same thought, I suppose I could’ve given up my dream for his.” He looks down, shaking the stick in his hand, and glances back up to me. “Truth stick, right?” His raised eyebrows lower and he keeps going. “I think maybe it’s a good thing Lennon didn’t choose me, because if she’d picked me she might’ve chosen incorrectly, and what if she’d realized her mistake somewhere down the line, and it ruined our friendship?” Brady pauses, his free hand coming up to pinch the space between his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m at a point in life where I’m looking for myself, when I’ve spent my whole life certain I knew exactly what I wanted. Who is this person who quit the job he couldn’t wait to have, just to embark on some journey without an end, or a specific destination? I’m afraid I don’t know myself like I thought I did.” He looks deep into my eyes, and in his gaze I see his yearning, his belief in what he’s about to say. “More than anything, I’m afraid I’ll never get what Lennon and Finn have. All I’ve ever wanted is to love deeply and profoundly, to share a life with someone whose soul matches mine. And after what happened with Lennon, after it turns out my whole life was a mismatch, I’m afraid I never will.”
My fingertips graze my lips as I absorb Brady’s truth. I long to pull him into my arms, to tell him one day it will all work out, even though I don’t know that to be true. It just seems as though, for someone like Brady, it has to be.
He steps off the stage and walks to me, truth stick extended.
I reach for it cautiously. Baring your truth is terrifying.
“I’ll give it a shot,” I say, faking bravery. I reach for the branch, my fingertips brushing against his. For the shortest second I leave them there, and when I feel the weight of the stick in my palm, I turn away toward the stage.
Brady takes my place in the second row. He props his feet on the row in front of him, grasping his hands and placing them on his bent knees.
“I’m not sure how to begin,” I tell him, shrugging, then remember what he said about shrugging. He’s totally right.
“Start small,” he suggests. “A food you hate, a smell you dislike. Something you love most about your grandma. Once you start, sometimes it’s hard to stop. You’ll see.”
I take a deep breath. “I hate tomatoes. I like tomato sauce though, and salsa. I can’t stand putting gas in a car because the smell of gasoline disgusts me. And people who like the smell of gasoline scare me.”
Brady’s shoulders move with suppressed mirth. I wasn’t trying to make him laugh.
“I’m just being honest,” I tell him.
He nods and gets control of his quaking shoulders, making a motion for me to continue.
“I don’t like how Warren’s parents or his sister treated me, even if I do understand it. And I’m mad at his sister, because before the accident happened she was my friend.” A small piece of the anvil on my chest breaks off and floats away. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to move on from here. I’m single, but I’m not. I’m followed by his ghost, except I’m not, because he’s not dead. I have this guilt inside me for being alive when his life is given to him by machines. And I’m mad at him for being human and getting hurt. And I’m mad at myself for not being the kind of person who never leaves his side. It sounds selfless, like something from a storybook. Does it make me selfish that I wanted to go to Oregon, that I needed a break from all the hurting? I stayed in our apartment and I was surrounded by his things. And it was all so painful.” It’s coming off my chest, piece by piece, but there’s a chunk still there, the worst truth of all. Before I can shove it down, this dark and shameful thought, I let it free.
“There’s a part of me that’s relieved I’m not marrying him.” As I say it, I can’t believe it’s me talking. This truth is one I’ve pushed away, hidden deep down under the grief and sadness.
“There were things about him I wasn’t sure I could live with forever, and that terrified me, because I loved him. How can you love someone and also be unsure about them at the same time?” My whole body feels like it’s going to give out, even with the weight off my chest now. I sink down slowly onto the dirty concrete, the truth stick falling from my grasp. “I’m a horrible person.”
Brady’s there in an instant, gathering me into his arms. He pulls me to his chest and holds me. I cry until the tears run out, until there is nothing left inside me. His fingers caress the length of my arm.
“You’re brave, Addison.”
There’s one last piece of anvil on my chest, one last morsel of truth, and I’m either brave enough or crazy enough to release it.
“Brady?”
His chin dips and he looks down at me, his blue eyes deep, searching.
“Do I need the stick to tell you one more truth?”
A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. “No.”
“I like you, Brady Sterling.”
Brady stills, his face suspended over mine, as my words sink in.
Then he lowers his face, or maybe I’m lifting mine. I can’t tell.
His lips press against mine, a gentle caress. A reassurance that my truths are safe. His mouth isn’t taking, but giving. My fingers wind into his hair, and I kiss him back with more force than I mean to.
After all this time hurting, all this time confused and lonely and sad, Brady’s kiss is everything.
15
Brady
I swear that kiss was not why I brought her here.
I wasn’t expecting anything, hoping only to give her a respite from the sadness that plagues her. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how she’d respond to the truth stick. It was just something silly my camp friends and I did when we were younger, but I remember how much better it made me feel after my turn with it. That was before I was a full-fledged teenager and would’ve scoffed at the idea of sharing my feelings so openly.
Addison embraced it, and I loved watching her find her voice. She was timid at first, but it didn’t take long before she was letting it all go.
Her willingness to be so vulnerable was incredibly sexy. Not that I find upset, crying girls sexy, but it was her absence of fear. Lennon loves me and Finn deeply and unconditionally (and differently, as I recently learned), but she’s not free with her emotions the way Addison is. And before meeting Addison, I didn’t even know that was something I liked in a woman.
I kissed Addison.
She kissed me.
And it was perfect.
She’s still in my arms, sighing softly against my neck. I gulp as the warm air from her sped up breathing decreases slowly. She palms my chest, and I feel her chuckle.
“Your heart is racing.”
“Your. Fault.” The sentence is broken into two words because I’m running after my frantic heart, trying to reign in its beats.
Addison pulls back slightly and looks up at me, her eyes wide. “I cannot believe that just happened.”
“Which part?” I’m picturing her with the truth stick, then the feel of her lips against mine.
She sits back on her butt and shakes her head, her hair falling down around her shoulders. “All of it.”
“Do you regret any of it?” My chest tightens as I steel myself for h
er answer.
She keeps me in suspense for a second that feels like an eternity. Slowly she shakes her head back and forth. “No.”
I blow out a breath of air I didn’t know I’d been holding and look up at the blue sky studded with cotton ball clouds.
Addison laughs and leans forward, sliding her arms around my neck. “Here, let me show you.”
She kisses me again, harder this time. Her lips part and allow my tongue to sweep inside, tasting her.
My hands encircle her small waist and running up her ribcage. I feel her intake of breath. She pulls her mouth away and sucks in a loud, dragging breath.
“Brady, my god.” She breathes the words.
“I’ve never been called a god before,” I tease, breaking into a smile.
Her eyes roll up to the sky and she playfully shoves my arm.
A somber expression takes over her face, as if a thought has just occurred to her. “We should head back soon. I have a list of things my grandma needs help with.” She climbs to her feet and stretches her arms above her.
I stand too, watching her shirt ride up her torso and show a small stretch of her skin. I saw her in a sports bra earlier, so this shouldn’t be a big deal, but now I know what the inside of her mouth tastes like, and that makes a minor peek of skin even more tantalizing than it would have been before.
“I can help you with that list,” I offer.
She turns me down with one simple swivel of her chin. “You’re a guest, Brady.”
“Do you make out with all guests?” My raised eyebrows challenge her.
Addison’s hands fall from the top of her stretch to her backside. She brushes off the seat of her shorts, reminding me I should probably do the same, and says, “Yep. I finished a session with Mr. Anderson just before I came to your cabin for the mystery walk.”
She grimaces even before she completes her sentence.
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