“Deanna!”
Otis suddenly yanks away from me, nearly ripping my shoulder out of its socket in the process. His leash leaves a rope-burning sensation behind. Turning, I face Brayden. He rubs Otis’s head while also walking toward me.
“I’m sorry. I’ll ride with you, okay?”
“If you want.” When we’re on the road, I glance over at him. His head rests against the window, his eyes closed. “Have you ever had a concussion before?”
“No, and I’m not too happy to have one.” He sighs as his phone vibrates in his hand. “Guess I better talk to her before she worries too much.” He answers and I listen to his side of the conversation. “Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. I napped a little bit ago. Deanna stopped by and now, we’re on the way to her house because she wants to stay with me. I told her I’d ride with. I said I’m fine.” His voice turns harsh for a moment. “I’d like to skip Thanksgiving this year.” He pauses and holds the phone away from his ear a little. Even I can faintly hear her raised voice. “Fine. Get it set up and come whenever you want. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
When I get home, he stays in the car to finish talking to her while I go inside. Is it bad that I was momentarily relieved about Thanksgiving being canceled? I didn’t realized how anxious I was about meeting his mom until I read his text and saw it wouldn’t be happening just yet. Sounds like Thanksgiving is back on now. Should I pack enough clothes to stay until his mother arrives? Or just for tonight? I throw plenty of clothes to last until Thursday, then I’m safe for whenever his mother comes.
Next, I have to pack for Otis and that takes longer than it should. I eventually make my way back to the car. Brayden is off the phone and Otis stares at me through the window.
“What’s the new plan?” I ask.
“She’s flying out Tuesday.”
We don’t talk the rest of the way back to his house. My stomach growls and grumbles. Brayden takes my bags straight to his bedroom before I have the chance to ask him if he’s hungry. Oh, well. If he is, he’ll eat. If not, more for me. After a few minutes of rummaging through the fridge, I find chicken and some fresh veggies. He also has some potatoes. I’ll drizzle those with olive oil and put some seasoning on them before popping them into the oven to roast.
The sounds coming from my stomach seem to grow louder while I wait for the food to cook, so I attempt to reach the cabinet above his fridge where his stash of chips is hidden. Salt and vinegar aren’t my favorite, but they’ll do in a pinch. My arm stretches out, but I’m about four inches too short. Damn it. If the fridge wasn’t in the way, I’d be able to grab the knob. He lives alone; for goodness sake, why does he need to hide them? Just as I’m about to hoist myself onto the counter, Brayden scares the hell out of me. His body is behind me, his arm reaches around me, and he easily opens the cabinet.
“Which one?”
“The kettle one. How long have you been in here?” I ask as he hands me the bag.
“Since you started cutting the potatoes.”
I purposely place a frown on my face as I turn to look at him. “You’ve been watching me like a creeper?”
He shrugs. “No one but my mom has ever cooked in here. It’s weird.” He reaches into the bag for a chip. “Why are you eating these if you’re cooking?”
“Because I’m starving and the food is taking too long. How are you feeling?”
Another shrug. “A little bit of a headache and I’m tired.”
Hopefully, he’ll recover quickly. In the meantime, I’ll be here with him. I’m thankful he doesn’t seem to mind having me here. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
Aside from him being a little cranky, things have gone smoothly with Brayden. He sleeps fine and rests as planned. He doesn’t complain of headaches, but I think they bother him. He hasn’t quite been himself. I mean, he doesn’t smile that often, but that’s not too abnormal. He’s usually grimacing. He rubs his forehead, too.
“Thanks for doing this,” Brayden mumbles, running a hand through his hair.
“No problem.”
We just arrived at the airport to pick up his mom. He asked me yesterday in an effort to give me enough notice to switch things around at work, saying he didn’t want to drive. Someone’s car alarm goes off, the horn blaring repeatedly, and Brayden winces. The alarm turns off as he takes my hand. He breathes a sigh of relief.
It’s been tough watching him deal with this. He doesn’t talk about it any more than he has to. But to see something obviously knock him down like this has? To see him struggle? It’s hard. My heart is constantly torn with wanting to hug him and not wanting him to see that I feel bad for him. Not sure he’d want to see that. He hasn’t minded the hugs I’ve given him so far, though.
We’re a little early, but we find a place near baggage claim to wait for her. Brayden fiddles with my sunglasses, which he’s wearing because he doesn’t own a pair and the first five minutes outside, he complained about the sun being too bright.
“How ridiculous do I look?” He glances down at me. My heart swells with his faint smile.
“You don’t. These aren’t chick sunglasses.” I roll my eyes, hoping I can get a chuckle out of him, and grin when I do.
“I know that.” He pinches my ass where his hand always seems to find its resting place. My sunglasses are a pair of aviators. He’d probably wear them, even if they were girly. “I mean because we’re inside. I still don’t understand why people wear them inside or at night. Maybe they’re all suffering from concussions too?”
I laugh, self-conscious enough to make sure it’s a soft one, and say, “Probably not.”
Brayden pulls me closer and rests his chin on top of my head. “Still nervous?”
“Yes.”
“Want to change your mind?”
“Can I?” It’s tempting.
“If you want, but it might be too late.” His hands are suddenly on my hips to turn me. “Hey, Mom. This is Deanna. Darlin’, this is my mom, Maryann.”
Just as my hand moves for a handshake, she steps forward to hug me. “It’s so nice to meet you, Deanna. I wish I could say more, but my son hasn’t told me much about you yet.” She glares at Brayden with that last bit and moves to hug him. “How are you doing?”
“Fine. What’s your bag look like?”
“It’s black.” Her response is so blunt and simple that I giggle, laughing harder when she winks at me and Brayden is surely glaring at us both.
“So helpful.”
“There are Carolina Rebels ribbons tied to the handles. Just for you. Are you sure you want to pick it up?”
“I can lift your suitcase, Mom,” he mutters as he walks to the carousel. The bags begin to appear and make their rounds.
“Is he really doing okay?” she asks me. “I’ll get to you in a minute, by the way, but he’s my son, so he’s always my first concern.”
“He’s been resting mostly. I’ve stayed at the house, so I try not to let him do much of anything. He’s slightly irritable and has sensitivities to lights and sounds. Plus, there’s the headaches. That’s it. If there’s more, I don’t know about it. I gathered that much from observation.”
She frowns and I know instantly that Brayden’s frown came from his momma. Looks exactly the same. “Thanks for taking care of him.”
“Of course.”
“So, how old are you?”
She manages to learn my age, occupation, and that I met Brayden in a bar before he walks over with her bag. I’m grateful, too. I don’t mind that she wants to get to know me, but it feels a little too interrogation-like for me. Plus, I’m too busy answering that I forget to worry about impressing her. What does she think about the fact that we met in the bar? Will she make assumptions because I was hanging in a bar? Surely not, since those same assumptions would have to apply to Brayden, right? Unless because he’s her son there’s a double standard?
Shit, I’ve never met a parent before! Well, I’ve met parents of friends before, but never fuck buddi
es or boyfriends when I had them. At this point, I don’t know what the hell we are.
On the ride back, I panic over this just a bit. Maryann catches Brayden up on things back home in Michigan and her meal plan for Thanksgiving dinner. Maryann oohs over Otis, who doesn’t jump on her with his finally-trained self, while Brayden takes her bag to the guest room. I stop by Brayden’s room to grab my bag, which I packed this morning.
“What are you doing?” Brayden leans against the doorframe, looking confused.
“Going to work.”
“That’s where you’re about to go. I asked what you’re doing. Why are you packed?”
He isn’t seriously asking me that, is he? I stare at him for a moment. “I’m not staying while your mom is here.”
“Why not?”
“Because!” There’s a reason, I know there is, but my mind can’t come up with one right now. It just seemed like the most obvious and logical thing to do.
“Are you taking Otis too?”
“He’s my dog. Of course I’m taking him.”
Brayden folds his arms over his chest and stands upright. He looks huge and towering. I suddenly know how Raelynn felt that day when she saw him. He can definitely look intimidating. “What if I want you both to stay?”
“I don’t know, Brayden. Her room is right there!” I point behind his shoulder.
He laughs. “It’s not like we’ve been fucking lately, darlin’.” Ugh. That’s true. No sex since his concussion.
“She’s here to see you,” I try.
“And to meet you.”
“She did. She’ll see me again Thursday.”
His eyes narrow. “Leave if you want, but I’ll be pissed if you do.” He turns and walks out of the room.
Well, what the hell do I do now? Leaving seems like the right thing to do. His mom is primarily here to see him, not me. I don’t want to be in the way or take from their time together. It’s weird to stay here in Brayden’s room with her in the house. That seems like it requires a certain level of commitment or seriousness and I don’t know where we are on either of those things. I’m not sure Brayden is thinking about it like this either. He just wants me here. Maybe he wants a buffer or something. I don’t know.
I sit on the bed. I need to decide before I leave for work and I still have some time before I told Rose I’d be there. Rose! I grab my phone and text her, asking for advice. It takes about a minute before a response comes in.
Rose: DO NOT RUIN THIS, DEANNA! STAY! He asked. He wants you there. STAY. If you don’t, I’ll kick your ass. Don’t be an idiot again.
“Deanna?”
I glance up at the sound of Maryann’s voice and quickly stand, as if I shouldn’t be sitting on her son’s bed in her presence. “Hey.”
“It seems you’re considering leaving?”
“Just to go back to my home. I don’t want to intrude or anything and I don’t live here, so...”
She gives me an easy smile, which relaxes me just a bit. “For Brayden’s sake, you might want to stay.”
“What do you mean?” I ask with confusion.
“He’s down there grumbling under his breath and telling Otis that if you leave, he’s kidnapping him while you’re at work.” She shrugs. “He wants you here. Might as well stay.”
“Otis can stay,” I start, but she interrupts me.
“Deanna, dear, you’re not intruding.”
“Okay. I’ll stay then.” I have no choice, it seems. At least she’s okay with it. We walk downstairs and find Brayden lying on the couch with Otis. Maryann sits in one of the chairs. “I have two classes tonight, so don’t wait on me for supper,” I tell Brayden.
He grins. “I’ll save you a plate.” He grabs my wrist to pull me down for a kiss.
His stupid grin widens as I feel my cheeks burning. “See you later,” I mumble before making my escape. Can his mom leave already? I am not comfortable this. Not at all.
“Are things serious between the two of you?” Mom asks the moment the door closes behind Deanna.
“Serious enough,” I reply, rubbing Otis behind the ears.
“What does that mean?” She already sounds exasperated with me. Mom doesn’t like any games either.
“You’re meeting her, aren’t you?”
“Would I be meeting her had her mom not died recently? Because initially, you wanted me to spend Thanksgiving with her so she wouldn’t be alone.”
I sigh, the pressure in my head increasing. “Look, Mom, I like her, we’re dating, and you do get to meet her. What more do you need to know?”
“Nothing, I guess.” I don’t have to look at her to know she’s not satisfied with that answer. “You rest. I’m going to ransack your kitchen so I can make a grocery list.”
“Do you like her?” I ask before she can get too far away.
“I don’t know yet.”
Well, that isn’t an acceptable answer. Mom needs to like her. Well, she doesn’t have to, but I’d really like her to. The last thing Deanna needs is another mother figure to dislike her. I don’t need to worry about Mom treating her badly or making snide comments or anything like that, but it would be bad enough for me if Mom didn’t like her. They haven’t spent that much time together yet, so I just need to make sure they do and that it goes well.
I’ve never been cooped up in the house this long before. Not involuntarily at least. I feel more antsy today since I know the team is in Canada on their road trip. I haven’t left the house except two or three times. I doze off, but when I wake up, I discover my mom has left for the grocery store. When I walk Otis, I see that she took my second vehicle, which doesn’t get driven as much as my truck. This seems like the best opportunity to leave.
I scribble a note saying I’ll be back soon and head out. It’s not until I’m almost there that I realize I’m driving to EJ’s house. Maybe Bree won’t be fussy today. Maybe Raelynn won’t be freaked out that I’m showing up unannounced. I knock on the door and almost a minute passes before she opens the door with Bree on her hip.
Her eyes widen. “Brayden, right?”
“Yeah. Sorry to drop by like this, but I needed to get out of the house. Can I hang here for a while?”
“Um.” She glances over her shoulder at something. “Sure.”
“You can say no, you know. I just wanted to see Bree, but if you’re not comfortable or whatever...” I let my voice trail off, remembering that she said I could be intimidating, even though that was when I had a busted lip and a quickly blackening eye.
“No, that’s okay. Come in.” She steps aside and I walk over the threshold. That’s when I see that she was glancing over her shoulder at the little boy peering over the couch. I forgot she had a son.
“Hey, Jackson.”
His eyes widen in surprise that I know his name. I’m surprised myself that I remembered it.
“This is Mr. Brayden, Jackson. He’s friends with Mr. EJ.” Jackson turns around and resumes watching the cartoons on TV. “Sorry,” Raelynn apologizes. “He’s shy around new people. Did you want to hold her?”
“Yes, please.” I take Bree from her and move to sit in the living room.
“Do you mind if I catch up on some chores?”
“No, go ahead. I’ll find you if we need anything.”
“Thanks.” To Jackson, she says, “I’ll be in the kitchen, baby. Mr. Brayden plays hockey with Mr. EJ, so you’ll be fine.” That seems like such an odd thing to say to the kid, or maybe it’s not, because Jackson turns toward me at that.
He eyes me as Bree claps her hands to get my attention. I lay her on her back on my legs and play with her hands while her legs kick me in the stomach. She’s a giggling mess. I’m not even making funny noises like I normally do.
“Why are you not with Mr. EJ on his trip?” Jackson asks, his voice quiet.
I glance over at him. “I hurt my head in the last game.”
He gasps. “You’re Hayes! Number thirteen. You have a C on your jersey. Momma said she thought th
at means you’re the captain.”
“Yeah, that’s right. You like hockey?”
He shrugs.
“How old are you?”
He holds up his hand, all five fingers up. Back and forth we talk as I ask him if he’s in school and if he likes it. If he likes staying here, if he likes Bree, but Jackson brings it back to hockey. He mocks the movements of an official, wanting to know what it means. It’s like he’s obsessed and needs to know. The longer we talk as Bree falls asleep in my arms, the greater my headache becomes. It’s like the TV is three times louder than it actually is.
“How is it going in here?” Raelynn walks in, a kitchen towel over her shoulder.
“Is there a place I can lie down for a minute?”
Her eyes widen, but she nods. I follow her upstairs to the nursery to lay Bree down. “You can lie in here if you want.” She points at a twin bed. “But if you’d rather have a bigger bed, you can have your pick of Elias’s or Jackson’s, I guess.” Elias? It throws me off so much that for a moment I have no clue she’s talking about EJ.
“I’ll lie in here.” I don’t really feel comfortable taking EJ’s or Jackson’s bed. “I’ll be out of here soon.” Hopefully.
“Let me know if you need anything.”
I nod and she leaves the room, pulling the door until it’s almost closed. The bed is not nearly long enough, so my feet veer to hang off the side. There’s too much light in here, so I take the pillow and lay it over my head. Leaving the house was a stupid idea. I was basically relaxing. The only thing different here than at home is the TV was on and I was consistently talking to someone. I wasn’t lying down either. This whole concussion thing is such bullshit and I’m ready for it to be over with already.
“Brayden?” A hand is shaking my shoulder. “Brayden?” I lift the pillow from my face and wince because the light is now on in the room. What the fuck? “I’m sorry to wake you, but it’s getting kind of late and I thought you might want to wake up.”
It’s getting late? How late? I came over around four. “What time is it?”
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