Brayden: Thanksgiving is canceled.
Me: What? Why?
Me: Hello? Brayden? What happened?
Me: Answer me!
Me: I’m coming over.
An uneasy feeling worries me as I drive to Brayden’s house. It morphs into dread when I pull into his driveway and find his truck door open. What in the hell happened? I walk to the truck with Otis trailing after me on his leash, spot his cell phone in the middle seat, and grab it. Why would he leave his cell phone in the truck? Gently closing the door, I head for the house.
My worry quadruples. His keys dangle from the deadbolt. That’s not very helpful if you want to keep intruders out. After I remove the keys, I push the door open. “Brayden?” I call out.
No answer.
Otis seems calm, which relaxes me just a little. That means no one who shouldn’t be here is in the house, right? Otis leaves me for the couch the moment I unhook his leash, so I hope so. He can’t bite someone in my defense if he’s napping on the couch. I jog upstairs to Brayden’s bedroom, calling out his name once more. There’s still no response. Where is he?
I find him lying in bed, but something isn’t quite right. He has a pillow over his head as well as his comforter over that pillow. Carefully crawling onto the bed, I pull the comforter back and then remove the pillow. He’s sound asleep. Do I wake him? Is he... I tug the sheets down a little further. He’s still in his suit from the game. What in the world?
I shake his shoulder. “Brayden.”
He groans, but I soon see those green eyes. He frowns and blinks a few times. “What are you doing here?”
“Because I’m extremely worried. First, you text me that Thanksgiving is canceled and you don’t respond to my texts. Then, I get here and your truck door is open, your phone is inside, your keys are still in the front door, and you’re sleeping in your suit.”
He glances down at himself and a brief flicker of surprise appears on his face when he sees that I’m not lying.
“What happened?” I ask as he throws the sheets completely aside to get out of bed.
“I got hit during the first period,” he mutters. I’m confused. What does that have to do with Thanksgiving? Or anything else that happened? I watch him change his clothes. “I sat out for the rest of the game and by the time it was over, they diagnosed me with a concussion. I’m not going on the trip to Canada, so you and Mom aren’t going either. Can you look to see if she’s texted me back?”
Once I’ve unlocked his phone, there are not only texts from his mom, but also about a dozen missed calls. His text to her was similar to mine, except he asked her to deal with his travel agent in canceling everything.
He sighs when I report my findings. “I don’t want to talk to her.”
“Want me to?”
He shrugs as he climbs back into bed.
“Don’t go to sleep yet,” I blurt out.
“Why?”
“Because I want you to come to my house.”
Brayden frowns. “What the fuck for?”
“I want to keep an eye on you, and I don’t want to leave, pack, and come back.”
“Too fucking bad. I’m not leaving my house when this is the only place I want to be. If you want to stay, I won’t stop you, but I’ll be damned if I’m leaving, Deanna. So, either leave to pack your shit and come back, or just fucking leave and don’t come back. Right now, I don’t care.”
I stare at him for a moment. Is it me, or was he a little mean to me? Harsh at the very least. Or maybe it seems like it because he has me so worried. I nod and wordlessly leave his bedroom. Once I have Otis on his leash, we’re out the door. I’m coming back, of course.
“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 buddies 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.