CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

BRANDON

The view was a postcard picture of beauty and serenity with my gaze set on the setting sun, painting a shimmering canvas of sunlight across the ocean. The cool Florida winter breeze blew my hair back, sending the natural scent of the beach wafting up my nostrils, and I inhaled deeply.

Mom and Dad sat next to me in their beach lounge chairs, connected by their hands, looking out at the never-ending expanse of the ocean before us. They sighed happily, never tiring of the view they saw every day of their peaceful lives.

Dad reached into his cooler, pulling out another beer and then tapped me on the shoulder to ask if I wanted one.

“Why the hell not,” I replied, and accepted the bottle, twisting the cap off with ease.

I caught the disapproving glance Mom shot at him as I knocked the bottle back, knowing she was probably thinking about the fourth bottle of Scotch I had brought home from the liquor store earlier that day. Dad had defended the overconsumption of alcohol, saying that it was what writers did to get the creative juices flowing, but boy, was he wrong. I had never needed to fit that stereotype before, and I seldom drank save for a glass of something on occasion. No, drinking was what I did when I wanted to forget, but the only thing I managed to forget was that drinking never actually helped me to forget anything.

I guess I just never learned.

My arms crossed over my chest with the bottle in hand as a few young ladies walked by; their eyes interrogating my body while wearing flirtatious smiles. I suddenly felt over-exposed, wishing I had brought a shirt with me from the condo.

Dad winked at me. “They’re cute, right?” He had spent the past month making attempts to get me interested in other women, to keep me from moping too much over Holly. He had since been unsuccessful, but I wasn’t sure I could blame him for trying.

“Sure, if I was into cradle-robbing.” I shook my head before taking another swig, pushing the salty dampness of my hair out of my face.

Dad cocked his head and peered at me over the rims of his sunglasses, reminding me of a less birdlike Nick. “Hey, when you get to be my age, you’ll wish the girls that young still looked at you. I can’t remember the last time they looked at me like—”

“Jack!” Mom smacked at him with flailing hands from her chair. “You’re cut off now. You’re only a pig when you drink.”

I snorted at that and took another sip of the beer that had stopped tasting good two bottles earlier. My face contorted into one expressing my distaste, but I swallowed hard, and tried to remember what the hell it was I had hoped to accomplish by running away. Because all that I had managed to do was finish most of the book.

With few excuses to distract me from the task, and acting as a distraction in itself, I had worked tirelessly at getting the thing down on my laptop and out of my head, knowing it was a matter of days before I would send the manuscript off to the editor. Nick had already emailed me with the promotional details and gentle reminders that there would need to be another photoshoot (or seven, knowing their fickle tendencies), and that I better be keeping my ass in shape in between lazy lounges on Florida’s sandy shores.

January was coming to a close, and the real world was beckoning me back to it, with the anniversary party coming up in the next couple of weeks. I reluctantly accepted that I would need to return to the great Empire State sooner rather than later, and I just hoped I could successfully ignore that I knew exactly where she lived. I hoped I could continue to ignore her phone number, and that I knew where I could find her on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I would have to resist the temptation, because she had made it very clear she wanted nothing to do with me. If her walking out hadn’t been enough proof of that, her lack of communication certainly was, but God, what I would have given to see that smile one more time.

My eyes took on a wistful gaze as my heart thrummed the reminder of how badly it hurt to be broken. I stared off into the fading sunset, looking past the ocean, and into the small library of memories I kept at close hand. I accessed them so often that some had even begun to fade, like an old worn blanket. Comfortable and cozy, and yet fuzzy and forgotten with wear. But others remained fresh, as though they had just happened. The scent of her hair, the taste of her skin, and the sound of her laugh could never be refreshed again, and I still would never forget. I held onto those cherished memories then, staring off in a daze, replaying them over and over again until I heard Mom whisper something, and Dad placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, kid,” he said, giving me a gentle shake. “Mom and I are worried about you.”

I reached up to scratch the beard I had allowed to grow over the month. “You guys don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”

Mom stood up, her long sundress billowing around her legs in the light ocean breeze, and walked over to perch herself at the edge of my lounge. She placed a graceful, weathered hand on my chest, touching the healing tattoo over my heart. I winced at the touch and she apologized, immediately removing her hand from the sensitive skin and rested it on my arm instead.

“I love having you here, you know that?” she said with a smile, and I nodded. It was hard to forget when she told me a number of times throughout every day. “But I want you to leave.”

“What?” I asked, laughing. “You beg me to come down here all the time, and now you’re kicking me out?”

She took my hands and looked to my dad for support. He remained silent with a little encouraging wave of his hand.

“Honey, you’ve gotten a lot of work done, and that’s great. But your father and I agree that you need to go home, and back to her. And for the love of God, this drinking has to stop. You haven’t been like this since Julia.”

“I was worse with Julia,” I said defiantly, and in fairness, that was the truth. I hadn’t yet drunken myself to the point of passing out every night for two weeks.

“I can’t go back to Holly. She made it pretty clear that she doesn’t want me, and I have to respect that.” I dropped my half-empty bottle into the sand. “And don’t worry about the drinking. I don’t think I can stomach anymore of this fucking shit.”

“Language,” she scolded, and I raised an apologetic hand. “Anyway, B., if you love this woman that much to let her go, then she’s worth fighting for just a little, and you haven’t fought at all yet. You haven’t even called her!”

“If she wanted to talk, she would have called me,” I stated bitterly. I had often wondered why she hadn’t, but wondering had proven to be nothing but another reminder that she had made her choice; she didn’t want me and there was nothing I could do about it.

Dad broke his silence with a disapproving grunt. “Come on, Brandon, you’re a smart man. I mean, you didn’t exactly invite her into your world by dumping some heavy news on top of her. You admitted that you had kept her from it, but you didn’t exactly say she could be included.”

“I told her I would give it up for her,” I grumbled, painfully aware of the guilt-stricken realization that flooded my veins.

“Honey, throwing your career away sounds noble, but that in itself says you can’t have her and your job,” Mom chimed in, squeezing my arm.

I bit hard against my lower lip, scraping my teeth through my facial hair. “How many times do I have to get the shit kicked out of me before I realize that my world doesn’t have room for—”

“Kid, I’m saying this in the nicest way possible, but cut the shit. That was Julia. Not every woman is going to be her. So, Holly didn’t call you. She needed some time to sort through this crap, but so did you. You ran just like she did, and don’t you think it’s time to stop running and act like a man?”

My eyes stared into the hazy sunlight, blinking in time to the whispering of my heart that sounded an awful lot like her name. It would always whisper her name, whether she was with me or not. That much wouldn’t change, I knew, and if she rejected me again, then I would have to live with that. But …

I nodded slowly with my decision made and pulled myself from the lounge. “Well, guys, this has been fun.”

“Where are you going?” Mom asked, watching as I picked up my warm bottle of beer from the sand.

“Well,” I said, squinting up at the condo, “I figured I’d pack my shit, throw Tolkien in the car, take a nice cruise up the East Coast, and rescue my damsel.”