“Of course I came,” she told him, wanting to reach for him but not sure if he’d let her. “We need to honor Whitney’s memory. This is my friend, Trevor Kincaid. He flew down with me.”
Brandon nodded at Trevor then shoved his hands in his pockets. “I mean going to the funeral with me. I know how you felt about Whitney. Everybody loved her and if it wasn’t for—” His voice broke and he glanced over his shoulder at the house then raised his clenched fists to his head, pressing them hard against his temples.
Her heart ached for how hard he was struggling to contain the guilt and sorrow surrounding him like an invisible force field.
“Oh, honey,” she whispered and wrapped her arms around him. She knew what it was like to lose the person you couldn’t imagine living without, and the pain of being left alone with so much grief. He stood rigid for several seconds before melting against her, sobs making his shoulders quiver.
“I didn’t want her at that party,” he said after a few minutes. He pulled away and wiped his sleeve across his cheeks. “We got in a fight because she wouldn’t let me take her home. I swear I only went to try to pull another friend of mine out of that crowd. It was a bad scene and Whitney and I got separated. By the time I found her again, somebody had given her the drugs. I don’t even think she knew what she was taking. She started getting sick and then she passed out and . . .” He closed his eyes. “I took her to the hospital, Sam. I ran every red light, all the stop signs. But it didn’t matter how fast I drove. It didn’t matter.”
“You tried to help her,” she told him, hating that any words she spoke would be inadequate to comfort him.
“She died because of me,” he said, his voice rough.
“No, Brandon.” She took his shoulders and turned him so that she could look into his eyes. He’d grown at least an inch since the summer and was almost as tall as her now. A boy in a man’s body, dealing with the kind of loss no one should have to endure. “You are not to blame.”
She would not let this boy sink into the same loneliness and despair she’d felt after losing her sister. “You loved Whitney,” she whispered and he gave a shaky nod. “I don’t know why she took drugs that night, but it wasn’t your fault. You’ve got to stay strong, as difficult as it is. For her.”
“I got nothing without her.” He hitched his head toward the house. “You know I didn’t deserve her. Everyone knew it and now—”
“You did deserve her and you gave her all the love in your heart. I saw that. Everyone saw that.” She hugged him again, hoping she could give him some bit of the comfort she’d craved for so many years. “We’re going to that funeral together and I’ll deal with Whitney’s grandma if it comes to that.”
Brandon’s eyes widened as they started toward the car. “No offense, Sam, but I’d bet on Gran. Have you met her? She’s scary as fu—”
She nudged his shoulder. “Watch your language. I’ve only spoken to her on the phone but I can guarantee she would not approve of your potty mouth.”
Brandon flicked a glance at Trevor and opened the rear door. “You’ve heard Sam, right? She can curse better than most of my brothers.”
“I’ve heard,” Trevor said with a small smile.
“I’m an adult,” she told them both. “It’s different.”
Brandon rolled his eyes and Trevor chuckled as they all climbed into the car. The church was only a few blocks away. Sam peppered Brandon with questions as Trevor drove, hoping to distract both the teen and herself. She hadn’t told anyone in Whitney’s family she was coming to the service with Brandon and could only hope there wouldn’t be a scene.
When they got out of the car, Sam turned and straightened Brandon’s narrow tie. “We’re in this together.”
Trevor came to stand at the boy’s other side. “Don’t worry about Gran, son. Sam has her own brand of scary and you’re one of her kids. I can guarantee she’s not going to let anyone get to you.”
Sam pressed a hand to her chest as they moved toward the church’s vestibule, staring at the sidewalk in front her. Trevor’s faith in her ability to protect Brandon was the nicest compliment anyone had ever given her.
“Are you one of hers, too?” the boy asked as they neared the front door.
She held her breath as she waited for Trevor’s answer.
“I’m working on it,” he said softly, and heat rushed to her face.
Then they were inside and all thoughts except Whitney vanished. The service was a heartbreaking tribute to a girl whose gentle spirit and endless potential had clearly touched an entire community. Like everyone else in the church, Sam didn’t bother to hide her tears. Whitney’s death was a tragedy in the truest sense of the word.
But the revelation was the girl’s grandma, who after the service walked away from the family and friends surrounding her to approach Brandon. Her gait was slow and she relied heavily on a cane, but for all the frailty of her body, it was clear Whitney’s Gran was a force to be reckoned with.
“My granddaughter thought she loved you.” She said the words as an accusation, pointing one bony finger at the teen.
“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered.
“You loved her back?”
“I loved her.” Sam put a hand on Brandon’s shoulder and felt him stand a little taller. “I still do, and I always will.”
Gran stared at him as if taking his measure. Even Sam wanted to fidget under the woman’s hawk-like gaze, so she was proud of Brandon for remaining still. “From what Whitney told me you got lots of trouble in your family.”
“I got trouble around me,” he said quietly. “But it ain’t in me.”
That seemed to be the right answer, because the woman reached out and took his hand. “You and me lost our heart, but we’re gonna hold on to each other now ’cause that’s what Whitney would have wanted. You need to keep her close when trouble tries to worm its way in ’cause that’s how you’re gonna honor her memory. You know where I live?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Come by after school tomorrow. I got some jobs need to be done. You willing to help out an old woman who loved your girl?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and his voice sounded a little steadier.
The woman turned her steely gaze to Sam. “My grandbaby loved going to your place in the summer. I was never much for nature, but all that fresh air set her soul free.”
“I’m so glad,” Sam managed before her voice broke. “We loved her. We still do.”
Gran gave a shuddery nod and for a moment Sam could see how much it took this woman to remain strong in the face of such a loss. “Y’all come back to the house for a spell. We’ve got enough casseroles to feed half of Houston.”
Someone tapped her on the shoulder then, and with another nod to Brandon, Gran turned away.
“She doesn’t blame me,” Brandon said when they were back on the sidewalk.
“Because you are not to blame.” Sam placed her hand on the boy’s cheek. “You stick close to her, ok? That woman is tough, but she’s also hurting. She needs you right now. Just like Whitney needed you.”
Trevor unlocked the rental car and they got in.
“Hey, Sam?”
She turned toward Brandon in the backseat. “What, honey?”
“Can I still come to camp this summer? I know with everything that happened I’m not the best—”
“It would make me so happy to have you at Bryce Hollow again,” she told him. “Besides, I think the work you do at camp is going to be a cakewalk compared with what Gran has in store for you.”
“Truth,” the boy muttered and sat back to stare out the window.
She caught Trevor’s eye as she turned to face the front again. “To Gran’s house?” he asked, his gaze filled with so much tenderness and understanding she almost melted on the spot.
“To Gran’s,” she whispered and turned her own gaze to the window.
The call came just as they were waiting to board the plane for the flight back to Denver.
“They went where?”
Trevor felt Sam’s questioning gaze and stepped out of line to finish the conversation. He ended the call and punched in Grace’s cell number, not surprised when his daughter didn’t answer.
“Grace,” he said through clenched teeth when he was transferred to voice mail. “I just got a call from Emma’s mom, and she better be wrong about where you girls went today. I’m getting on a plane, but I expect a full explanation when we land in Denver. Or else you can expect to be grounded until you’re old enough to vote.”
He ended the call as they announced the final boarding, and hurried down the jet bridge, his anger eating away at the panic that normally flooded his veins as he got ready to fly.
“What’s going on?” Sam asked as soon as he took the seat next to her. “Is Grace ok?”
“Not once I get ahold of her,” he muttered and snapped the seat belt shut. “I just got a call from the mom of the friend where she’s staying. Instead of coming back to their house after school, the girls went shopping in Denver with one of Emma’s older sisters.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Apparently they went looking for dresses for the spring dance.”
“Did Grace get asked?”
He turned to glare at her. “That isn’t the point.”
“Right.” She nodded. “Of course not, but she was hoping Jackson would ask her.”
“Let’s hope he did,” Trevor muttered. “Because then it will really hurt when she’s grounded forever.”
“But you’ll let her go to the dance?”
“Not if she’s in Denver right now. She doesn’t have permission to date and if she wants to go to the city, I’ll take her.”
Sam frowned. “A dance isn’t the same thing as going on a date, and shopping with friends isn’t the worst thing an eighth-grade girl could do.”
“She doesn’t have permission to be in a car with a teenage driver on the interstate. I’d made that pretty damn clear when she snuck off to see you.”
“That was different. She didn’t tell you.”
“She didn’t tell me about this, either.”
He turned to face front as the flight attendant started her speech about the plane’s safety features.
“I know she made a mistake—”
“I’m listening to the flight attendant.”
“But—”
“Sam, I’ll be the parent.” He blew out a breath. “I am her parent. This isn’t your business.”
He heard her small gasp and squeezed his eyes shut as the plane’s engines revved up. Shit. He’d hurt her feelings with those words, but his head felt like it was on sideways. Between the thought of his daughter on the winding highway that led into the city and the plane taxiing down the runway, he was a mess.
He gritted his teeth and prepared for takeoff, then felt Sam’s cool fingers slide into his. She traced her thumb around his palm, prying open his clenched fingers.
“You have a long life line,” she said softly, leaning so close he could smell the fresh, citrusy scent of her. “Look at how it curves all the way around the side of your hand.”
He opened his eyes, bracing himself as the plane became airborne. Her skin was so smooth against the calluses worn into his palm, and he focused on the feel of her fingers, allowing the gentle touch to ground him.
“Have you ever had your palm read?” she asked conversationally.
He huffed out a small laugh. “What are you talking about?”
“By a psychic—crystal ball, tarot cards, astrologers, mediums talking to spirits from the other side.”
“Never,” he said, shaking his head.
“I used to do that.” She shifted closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “After Bryce died, I made a habit of it whenever I was in New York City. I made the rounds in Manhattan, hoping someone would give me a sign from the other side that Bryce was at peace.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not,” she said, and lifted his hand to her lips, brushing a gentle kiss across his knuckles. “That’s how much I needed her forgiveness. I’ve also never admitted that to anyone before.”
“Did anything come of it?”
“Nope. A few of the people acted like it, but I could tell it was fake. I still think if I’d found—”
As the chime dinged, the illuminated seat belt sign darkened.
“There we go,” she said, lifting her head. “You made it through takeoff again.” She tried to pull her hand away, but he held it fast. He’d made it through takeoff because she’d once again distracted him. He didn’t deserve it, her small kindness, not when he’d just been so rude. She’d given it to him anyway.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he whispered. “I know I hold on to Grace too tightly, especially now that she’s a teenager. But as crazy as the world was when we were growing up, it’s a whole different ballgame now. I have to keep her safe.”
“She’s a good girl. You have to start trusting that, Trevor. If you don’t give her a little freedom she’s going to find other ways to get it.”
“That’s a terrifying thought.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Everything about raising a daughter is terrifying these days. How can I have done this for over a decade and still suck so badly?”
“You don’t—”
“Yes, I do. Ask Grace. She’ll be happy to tell you all the ways I’m a terrible father.” He glanced out the window at the tops of the clouds, the sky at this altitude a pale, shimmering blue. “It wasn’t always this bad. I wasn’t always—”
He blew out a breath. “The first year after Grace was born was a blur. I quit school and got a full-time job on a construction crew. My nana bought a little place so we could move in with her. In the blink of an eye I went from hell-raiser to single dad living with my grandma. It was pathetic, but I was determined not to mess up and so damn scared that Bryce was going to change her mind and come back for Grace.”
“You never heard from her?”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe it. Grace was her daughter. How could she just leave her behind? Maybe it was a blessing that I hardly slept those first six months. Grace was a good baby, but it took her a while to sleep through the night. Plus I didn’t know anything. I read parenting books, but it was kind of trial by fire. Nana was a lifesaver and eventually we got into a rhythm. But every time I thought I had things down, something would change. She’d start teething or eating solid food or her nap schedule switched.”
He smiled at the memories that washed through him. “I just held on and tried my best to keep up with her. Then we had a couple of years under our belts and it got pretty great. I was her daddy and could do no wrong as long as I was willing to play dress-up and have tea parties. I even learned to braid hair, although it’s not my best skill.”
“I think the trying is what counts,” she said softly.
“It was,” he agreed with a nod. “Plus having her great-grandma there to soften the edges.”
“Did you live with her until she died?”
“No, we moved out when Grace turned two. I think Nana would have been happy if we’d stayed, but I needed space. Or at least not to have my grandma lecturing me about how I folded socks.”
“You don’t fold them. You ball up the pairs.”
“Nana would have liked you,” he told her.
“I doubt that,” she said with a snort. “Every time I saw your grandma, she gave me the stink eye.”
“She wanted me to tell you,” he said softly, and heard her sharp intake of breath. “After Bryce died, she said I should reach out to you.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I was still scared and angry. Mostly angry. I actually thought maybe you’d find out through a will or some note Bryce might have left.”
“What could I have done to scare you so much?” She’d asked him a version of the same question that first night in her kitchen, but this time there was no accusation in it. It was as if sh
e was simply curious. He wanted to give her an answer that would make her understand, which was a challenge because he couldn’t remember the reasons that had seemed so solid at the time.
“Grace was the only thing I ever had that was truly mine,” he told her after a few long moments. “Maybe I was afraid you would try to take her from me.”
“Or influence her,” she added.
“It was wrong. I realize it now.” He took a breath then told her the rest. “I also didn’t trust that you wouldn’t leave again. I hated that you chose modeling over me.”
She threw up her hands. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
Her eyes closed and she turned away. “I asked you to come with me, and you chose to let me go. That’s on you. You can’t undo it.”
His stomach took a nosedive, plummeting to his toes. She was right, and Trevor hated knowing there was a piece of Sam, and quite likely a part of his daughter, that would never forgive him. He actually looked around the plane to make sure the feeling of free-falling through the sky wasn’t real.
“Your mistakes hurt you,” he murmured when his emotions were under control again. “Mine hurt all of us.”
She didn’t respond for several moments and then reached out and laced her fingers with his. They didn’t speak, but the feel of her next to him was enough. The plane landed without incident and he breathed a heavy sigh of relief. As soon as he switched on his phone, a barrage of texts and voice mail notifications lit up the screen. He glanced over as Sam’s phone also began to beep.
“She didn’t go to Denver,” they said at the same time.
“She texted you, too?”
Sam nodded as she scrolled through messages. “She wanted to make sure you knew that she went to another friend’s house and not with the girls who drove down to the city.”
He thumped a palm against his forehead and stood to de-plane. “You were right. I shouldn’t—”
Tell Me Again Page 17