Within a week’s time, Brody’s mom declined at a rapid pace. He’d put Nate on the jobs he could handle on his own, and postponed the bigger projects. Nothing was more important than spending this time with his mom. The fact that Owen not only understood, but also took time off to be there for him was a gift Brody wasn’t sure he could ever repay.
His mom’s house was quiet. So incredibly quiet. Brody and his aunt took turns sitting at his mom’s bedside, as he was at that moment. Owen refused to let them starve and took over the meals, caring for Brody in a way no man ever had. Gabe was there, like he had been for so many years. Brody suspected Gabe wasn’t really sure what to do for him. Why else would the immaculate, why-do-it-if-you-can-pay-someone man be cleaning the house? Not just his mom’s, but Owen’s, as well. If he could muster the energy, Brody would laugh at the irony. This was not the way Gabe preferred to be on his hands and knees.
But Gabe was there for Brody. And damned if Brody didn’t respect the hell out of him for it.
“Hey, you,” Owen said, breaking Brody’s train of thought. He leaned over and wrapped his arms around Brody from behind, kissing his temple.
Brody grabbed onto Owen’s arm to keep him there. “Hey.”
“Any change?”
Brody’s mom had been drifting in and out of sleep the last two days. Words were no longer spoken, her labored breathing and the effects of the increase in the morphine drip making it too trying. Every now and then, she’d move her fingers against Brody’s. Brody gladly took the hint and held her hand.
He shook his head in response to Owen’s question. Pulling on Owen’s arm, he brought the man around the chair and onto his lap. Owen once again wrapped his arms around Brody’s neck.
“My mom sends her thoughts and prayers, along with Aunt Laurie and Leslie,” Owen softly said. “And Jonah said to let him know if there’s anything you need.”
“Please tell them thank you for me.”
“I will.”
Owen smiled and softly laughed. “You should’ve seen Leslie earlier.”
“What’d she do this time?” Brody instinctively held Owen a little tighter.
“A certain four-year-old boy visited the bakery today.”
Brody laughed at the memory of the story Leslie told the night they’d all had dinner. “Did she glue his butt to the chair?”
“No, but she may or may not have told him that the chocolate chips in his cookie were actually chocolate covered bugs. I thought he was going to puke right there on the bakery floor.”
“Poor kid’s probably traumatized,” Brody said, but couldn’t choke back a laugh.
“I set him straight.” Owen chuckled. “At least, I think I did. We’ll see if he eats his cookie next week.”
They quietly spoke to each other, making plans for dinner that night. They whispered about anything and everything. Brody soaked in Owen’s smile, breathed in his familiar scent and let it envelope him.
“Happy…”
Brody and Owen both turned toward his mother. Her eyes remained closed, but a slight smile lifted the corners of her mouth.
“What was that, Mom?” Please, say it again. I just need to hear it once more.
“So…happy,” she whispered.
He sucked in a breath, his eyes glued to his mother’s mouth, but no more words were uttered.
Owen placed his hand on Brody’s cheek. “I heard it.” He wiped away the tears Brody only just then felt on his skin. “She knows you’re happy.”
Brody nodded his head, afraid that if he said something, he wouldn’t be able to stop the waterworks.
Hours passed with Brody and his aunt rotating their place by his mom’s side. Owen checked in on him every half hour or so. Minutes felt like hours, and Brody found himself laying his head down on his mom’s bed. Exhaustion took over and Brody’s eyes drifted closed, his hand still holding hers.
He didn’t know how much time had passed before he felt the small hand in his tense. Brody picked his head up and held his breath, as if doing so would stop her from taking her last. A delicate sigh left her lips and a guttural ache inside him told him she was gone.
~ɤ~
Brody woke to the sound of voices downstairs. He swept his hand over Owen’s side of the bed, and by the cool feel of the sheets, he knew Owen had been up for a while. He sat up, and for a fraction of a second, forgot that his mom was gone. The realization of his devastating loss the day before made him want to crawl back under the covers.
But the sound traveling up the stairs, familiar voices and teasing, soft laughter, had him getting up out of bed. After throwing on a pair of sweats and an old Red Sox T-shirt, he cleaned up so that he didn’t smell like a total scumbag and headed down the steps.
Everyone was in the kitchen, and before Brody made his presence known, he stopped just outside the door.
“Red, if you don’t put those eggs back down, I swear to God—”
Brody rolled his lips in and bit them to keep from laughing when he heard the splatter—had to be eggs—and Owen’s groan.
“I can’t believe you just did that in my brand new kitchen!” Owen yelled. “That’s it. You asked for it.”
“Owen,” Leslie warned. “Put down. The syrup.”
All the while a second conversation was going on between Gabe and Jonah.
“I’ve never had one that big,” Gabe said, as if in shock.
“I bet you’d like it. I sure did when I lived here,” Jonah responded.
“Wait,” Gabe paused and then, “Are you telling me that Owen’s is as big as…?”
What the actual fuck?
Brody turned into the kitchen abruptly, stopping Gabe from finishing that sentence. “Owen’s is as big as what?”
The room froze, Owen’s hand full of pancakes aimed at his cousin and a guilty look on Leslie’s syrup-smeared face. They each pointed at each other, accusing the other of starting it. Then Owen hit the back of Leslie’s head. “I told you not to wake him!”
“Me?” Leslie yelled back.
They both went for the sink at the same time, Owen beating Leslie out.
Brody shifted irate eyes to his best friend and arched an eyebrow.
“Put the Neanderthal away, Brody. No one’s after your boyfriend’s big anything.” Gabe stood, brushed his hands down his perfectly pressed pants, and crossed the room to Brody. He rubbed Brody’s arms and hesitantly asked, “How are you? Is there anything you need?” Brody shook his head and welcomed the hug he was wrapped in. He held Gabe, closing his eyes to stop his emotions from getting away from him.
“Rainfall showerhead,” Gabe said and then pulled back, smirking at Brody.
“Huh?”
“I was telling Jonah what absolute crap the shower is at the inn. Seriously, how do they expect a man to shampoo and condition properly? Like standing under a dripping faucet.” Gabe gave an exaggerated shiver. “But kudos to you. I was just informed your man has a very generous sized—”
“Careful…,” Brody admonished.
“Head.”
Brody pinched Gabe’s side and the man squeaked and squirmed away. “Showerhead. Get your mind out of the gutter, Brody. Sheesh!” He gave Brody a cheeky grin and blew him a kiss, before sitting back down at the table.
Within seconds, Leslie was pulling Brody’s face down and planting a big kiss on his cheek—thankfully, after she’d washed the sticky syrup from her face. She wrapped her arms around Brody’s waist and pressed a cheek to his chest. She was so small, her head fit perfectly under his chin. He leaned his head down, his cheek pressed against her soft, fresh-scented hair and took in her comfort.
“I’m so sorry, Brody.”
“Thanks, Red.”
She pulled back, her eyes glistening. “You called me Red.”
“That okay?” he asked.
Another kiss to his cheek and a nod of her head answered his question. Damn, had he ever seen Leslie speechless?
She wiped a stray tear from her face. “As long as you know you’re not exempt. Just because you’re new to the family, doesn’t mean you get a free pass.” She pulled away and sat down across from Jonah.
And now it was Brody’s turn to be speechless.
Family?
Brody glanced around the room, listened to the banter and laughter, appreciating that his friends weren’t tiptoeing around him. He watched Leslie smack Jonah’s hand, knocking down his piece of bacon, before swiping it and shoving it into her mouth. Jonah furrowed his brow, pointing at Leslie. “You’re evil.” When Leslie just wiggled her eyebrows, Jonah added, “Brat,” and then stood up.
As he passed by Brody in the direction of the bathroom, he squeezed Brody’s shoulder and handed him a white envelope.
Caught off-guard, it took Brody a second to open it. His breath caught, the words printed on cardstock blurring with the threat of more tears. Jesus, Brody, get a grip, he silently scolded himself. And then he reminded himself that his mom just died. And his friend—Brody was so grateful to call Jonah that—had made a donation in his mother’s name to the American Cancer Society.
His chest tightened, the love these people surrounded him with both overwhelming and so desperately needed.
Owen crossed the room looking worried. He wrapped his arms around Brody, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m here for you. You know that, right?”
Brody’s answer was the soft kiss against Owen’s lips because, yes, he did know that. For the first time, he truly knew where he belonged.
For the first time…I have a family.