Brady studies me. It’s like he can see into me, as though my skin is translucent. Does he see the way my stomach flips? How my heart races?
“Aside from all of this”—he waves a hand around the room—“are you okay?”
I nod quickly. “I was cleaning my mother’s house when I saw your mom’s missed call and—”
Brady shakes his head. “That's not what I’m talking about. You seem... off. Jumpy and nervous.”
“Oh.” My mind races to come up with a reason for my behavior. “Just worried about you, that’s all. I drove down here in a way you wouldn’t have been happy about.”
Brady chuckles. “Do you know if Finn’s doing alright? He seemed okay when they took us away, but there was so much happening in that moment that it was hard to tell.”
I gulp. Even talking about Finn makes the guilt rise up my throat, and it tastes bitter. “He broke his arm. But otherwise he’s fine. Similar to you, I guess.”
Brady nods slowly, his lips puckering slightly as he thinks. “You’ve already seen him?”
Oh shit.
“Um hmm,” I say, going for nonchalant.
“You went to see him first?”
“Brady, don’t—”
“Lennon? Don’t lie to me, okay? I could withstand all the crap before because I understood that you truly loved us both, and for you, choosing was too difficult. But you can’t lie to me. If you know, you need to tell me.”
My voice won’t work. My mouth has gone dry.
And then, oddly, Brady laughs. Not a real laugh, but a chuckle drained of its mirth. “He’s right. You do have a tell.”
“What?” My gaze snaps down to my hand. There it is, those two traitorous fingers rubbing against one another.
“You’re nervous to tell me the truth.” Brady’s lips twist. “Which means the truth won’t be happy. For me, anyway.” His lips press together and he gazes out the window, where nothing but sunshine spills through. Why isn’t it storming outside? Given the way I feel inside, rain should be beating the windows and lightning crackling through the sky.
After a moment he looks back to me, a rueful smile on his face. I hate the regret I see in that sad grin, the sorrow and the pain.
Tears sting my eyes, and I try so, so hard to keep them at bay. If I cry, Brady will console me, and that’s not what should be happening now. He shouldn’t console the person who caused him this heartache.
It’s physically impossible to stop the tears, so I do my best to hide them by turning my face and rubbing my eyes on my shirt sleeve.
“I’m sorry, Brady,” I whisper. Now the tears are coming so quickly that my shirt sleeve can no longer do the job. I spot a box of tissues beside the sink and hurry to them. With my back to Brady, I wipe my eyes and nose. His eyes are on me when I turn around, and when I get closer, I see that they are red and sparkling with unshed tears.
My body responds with a fresh batch of tears, and this time I don’t attempt to hide them.
“I’m so sorry,” I sob. Brady holds out his arms and I step into them, leaning over the bed and laying my head on his chest. He strokes my back, and I listen to his heartbeat. This same heart was beating the day he made me his friend when I had none. It was beating every time he went out of his way to care for me over the years, and every second Brady hoped I’d love him enough to choose him above all others.
Panic sets in. Have I made the wrong choice?
No.
In my mind I see Finn, and I know that my choice is the right one for me. Finn is my forever.
But right now, in this moment, I’m here with my best friend, soothing the pain I’ve caused him.
I stay in his arms until a nurse comes in and announces it’s time for Brady’s next round of painkillers.
I step back and we share a look, one where I imagine Brady is being brave and making a joke about how he has two reasons to need painkillers.
Brady falls asleep quickly after his fresh round of meds, and I step from the room. Even though I’m gone, I feel the part of me that’s broken off. It’s back there, and it belongs to Brady. Maybe that’s how life goes. Perhaps we aren’t a collection of the hearts we break, the love we fall into, or the experiences we have. We start out whole, and as we go through life, we carve out pieces of ourselves and leave them behind. Maybe we pick up pieces of others, and stitch them onto us, until we are a fabric made of everyone else.
My whole life I’ve been picking up the pieces of Finn and stitching them onto me. He, too, is a patchwork of my pieces. And now, as I walk away from Brady’s room, I feel a part of my heart fracturing and breaking off, falling alongside the fragments of Brady’s broken heart.
I close my eyes and pick up a piece, attaching it to my own. Brady is a part of me, and he always will be.
27
Now
Brady
Well, fuck. She didn’t choose me.
I thought I had a shot.
The thing is, I can’t even be mad at her. Or Finn. I see it. I see them together, and they look right.
“Take it easy, hon. You’re making me nervous.” My mother flutters around me, her hands outstretched like at any second they might prove useful.
This is only day two off crutches. After having them for the past six weeks, I was ready to throw them out the window on the drive home from my follow-up appointment yesterday.
“Mom, I’m good.” I wave her off. My mom has been amazing through all of this, but when the time comes for her to leave with my dad, I won’t be shedding any tears. They’re taking ten days in Mexico, although she tried to cancel. My dad put his foot down, and I agreed.
Physical therapy starts next week, and luckily the leg I broke was my left, so I can drive.
After the accident, I called my boss and told her I needed a year.
One year to clear my head. I need to reevaluate what I’m doing and where I’m going. Being a lawyer was all I ever wanted, but the reality didn’t live up to the dream.
After physical therapy, I’m leaving Agua Mesa. I don’t know where I’m going, but it’s going to be somewhere with water. My soul needs a drink.
Lennon visits me whenever she can. So does Finn. They both have a lot going on right now.
Lennon’s mother’s accounts held enough money to keep Lennon comfortable into perpetuity, assuming she doesn’t go wild and start eating caviar and buying yachts. She won’t. That’s not the lifestyle Lennon wants, even if she could have it.
Seeing Lennon is just about the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done. I still want her. Less now than at first, but the feelings don’t just disappear. My brain knows she’s Finn’s, but my heart has been slow on the uptake.
At first I was angry. The days following my release from the hospital were filled with rage. My leg was frozen in a cast and I didn’t get the girl. I tried to take it on the chin, to straighten my broad shoulders and carry that shitty load, but eventually it got the better of me.
The first time Lennon came to visit, I told her to leave. She understood. Maybe she’d even been expecting those words. She told me she’d be back in a week, and she was true to her word. The next time she came to visit, she told me she’d been to Dallas to quit her job and get her things packed. I didn’t ask where she was going; instead, I gave her the contact info for a financial advisor I trust.
She left that day, and my heart hurt. It was worse than the pain of her telling me she’d chosen Finn. That day in the hospital when I watched her fingers rub together and betray her nervousness, it felt like a butcher knife slicing through me. Now when she visits me, it feels more like being cut by a dull butter knife.
Finn visits too, but they never come together. Thank the fucking lord.
He doesn’t make me watch nineties movies, the way Lennon does when she comes over. I can recite every line from Clueless. I’m sure that’s a sought-after ability to add to my resume.
Finn brought over a card table. He’s been teaching me to play poker, which I’m surpri
singly good at. Math was never my strong suit, but he’s a good teacher and I’m a quick learner. Someday, we’ll go to Vegas. Maybe for his bachelor party when he marries Lennon.
Fuck me.
In time, I’m sure I’ll get over it. Not yet though. It’s too fresh. This is the kind of wound that will take a while.
If I could’ve picked anybody for Lennon, I would’ve picked me. But if it can’t be me, I’m glad it’s Finn. Nobody else would love her the way we have.
Finn
She chose me.
I still can’t believe it. Not even now, as she lies beside me in my bed.
I prop my head on my hand and let my eyes wander over her. I’ll never get tired of this. I was a parched man offered eternal water, and I’ll never tire of drinking her in.
She’s lying on her side, snoring softly. Her back moves with her rhythmic breath. Her hair stops at her shoulder blades, and the sheet has moved down to her ribcage. She has a smattering of freckles across her upper back.
How is it that Lennon chose me? All along I believed I deserved her, that I was the better fit for her, that I loved her more, and when she chose me, all those thoughts fell away.
All I could think about was Brady, how he could’ve been right for her too.
Soul mates don’t have to be best-fitting. Maybe souls choose each other despite the parts of them that don’t fit together.
Lennon quit her job. She packed up her things at the apartment she shared with Laine, and together we drove from Dallas to my cabin. She helped me move my uncle here, and she helps me care for him. He doesn’t have much longer, but he loves it here. He watches the fish jump in the early morning and evening. He naps in the hammock I set up for him outside, and Lennon talks to him about his life. She’s learned more about him in the past few weeks than I have the entire time I’ve known him.
Apparently he has a thing for peach cobbler. How did I not know that?
Lennon figured it out, then she taught herself how to make it.
I don’t know what to do about his trailer in Agua Mesa. Maybe I’ll hook it up to my truck and drive it into the desert, throw a match on it and watch it burn to the ground.
Jeff did the best he could with what he had at the time, but I don’t need a trailer to remind me of that.
Lennon’s eyes flutter open. She rolls onto her back, her eyes seeking me out.
“I love you so fucking much,” I whisper.
“How much?” she asks, a smile tugging the corner of her lips.
She’s teasing me. I like it. “So fucking much.”
She rolls toward me, the sheet falling down in the process. I reach for her breast, cupping it in my hand. I can’t believe I can do this now. Touch her just like this, whenever I want to.
“I love you the same way,” she says, her voice still sleepy. She reaches for me, her hand disappearing beneath the sheet. She grins when she finds what she’s looking for. “So soon? Four hours ago you woke me up because you couldn’t wait until morning.”
“I believe it was you who woke me up.”
Her eyebrows wiggle. “Maybe…”
She ditches the sheet and sits up, climbing over me. She sinks down onto me. I grab her hips and push down harder, until there isn’t an inch of me she’s not covering.
She keeps going, riding me until her head tips back and she has to cover her mouth to muffle herself. She falls limp against my chest. I roll us over and kiss her, aiming for her second high. Her legs shake as she gets closer, and when I feel her clench around me, I let go too.
I move off her and tuck her into my side. She drifts in and out of sleep, but I stay awake.
My gaze falls to the dresser where my sling waits for me. Last week I transitioned from cast to sling, and soon there will be no sign of the car accident.
For Brady, it will take longer.
When Lennon told me she was in love with me, I was ecstatic. But a victory for me meant a loss for Brady, and that was tough for me to swallow. He’s doing better, or at least it seems that way. I think one day we'll get to a place where he’s happy for us.
I could’ve just as easily been where he is. Lennon could’ve chosen Brady, and I wouldn’t have an argument against it. He’s a good person and he deserves the best. If I could pick one other person for Lennon, it would be Brady.
For a long time I thought he loved her just as much as I did.
And then, on graduation night, I learned the truth.
He didn’t love her enough to kill for her.
But I did.
The End
Is Brady ever going to get his happily ever after? Find out in One Good Thing, coming Spring 2020. Preorder now.
One Good Thing
Coming Spring 2020
Today's the day I was supposed to say I do.
Kiss the groom, cut the cake, and dance our first dance as husband-and-wife.
So much for forever.
After a painful and public break up, Lonesome, Oregon seemed as good a place as any to lick my wounds. It's peaceful, remote, and my favorite person in the whole world lives here: my grandma.
She needs help running the Sweet Escape Bed and Breakfast, and I need a place to lie low while I hide from the mess my life has become.
And it appears I’m not the only one running from something painful.
A gorgeous man with sad eyes has been holed up in cabin seven since he arrived. I told myself to stay away from him, but my curiosity got the better of me.
If only I hadn't knocked on his door.
That’s when things went downhill.
That’s when things got a whole lot more complicated.
I came to Lonesome to recover from a broken heart.
I’m afraid I’ll be leaving with a heart more damaged than it was when I arrived.
* Pre-order here*
Also by Jennifer Millikin
Good On Paper
Our Finest Hour (Time Series Book One)
Magic Minutes (Time Series Book Two)
The Lifetime of A Second (Time Series Book Three)
The Day He Went Away
Full of Fire
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