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“How about you walk her home, Brandon?” My mother asks beside me, giving Spencer a disapproving frown. I didn’t notice her walk in.
Both their heads whip in our direction. Anya intentionally avoids my gaze.
“I can walk her home,” Spencer says with a boyish grin. “We have history. She’ll feel more comfortable with me.”
My jaw twitches involuntarily at the mere mention of their shared history. Feelings of anger and bitterness rise up in me, wanting to pin all the blame on it. If she weren't his ex, I would have confidently strode over and offered to take her home myself. But it's not just that - it's the fact that the Brandon I used to be, who could effortlessly charm any woman he desired, is long gone. In his place stands a broken and troubled man.
Despite my reservations, I can't help but be curious about how she's been. A part of me wants to apologize for my abrupt departure, knowing that I owe her an explanation at the very least.
But then my mother’s voice brings me back to reality.
"I don't trust you with her, Spencer. I taught you better than to be dishonest." Her words serve as a reminder of my mistakes and shortcomings, and a pang of guilt stabs at my conscience.
Anya nods in agreement. “I already told him that I don’t need him to walk me. I can go on my own.” She pauses and smiles at my mother. “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Jackson. It was lovely.”
My mother smiles back. “It was good having you over. I can’t let you go home alone though.” My mother cranes her neck to me. “Be a gentleman and walk our guest home.”
My brother opens his mouth to protest, but I hear myself say, “Fine. I’ll walk her home.”
“Good.” My mother pats my shoulder and disappears down the hallway.
Spencer’s brows draw together in confusion and Anya’s eyes widen.
“I’ll walk you home,” I say again, my voice laced with determination as I approach her. “I’m not just offering or asking.”
Her eyes flicker with uncertainty as she meets my gaze. “What if I say no?”
I lean against the wall beside her, crossing my arms over my chest. “Then I’ll have to carry you on my shoulders.” The thought of carrying her brings a flutter to my heart.
She lets out a heavy sigh, her resolve crumbling. “Fine. Let’s go before I skin your brother alive.” With one last glare towards Spencer, she starts for the door.
I fall in step beside her, the crisp evening air filling my lungs. The night is perfect, with a gentle breeze and a sky full of twinkling stars shining down on us.
I want to draw Anya close and apologize to her for being an asshole and leaving that morning, but it’s pointless. I’m not the same man I was two years ago. It’s no use introducing her to this broken version of me.
We walk in silence until she stops in front of a pine. “Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”
I stop walking when I feel her gaze on me, but I don’t dare look at her. Whether it’s anger or sadness in her eyes, I can’t bear to see it. “Anya, I…” I swallow hard as I try to think of the right words.
“You slept with me and left without a word, Brandon.” She pauses and inhales. “I thought what we had was different and special, and I thought we at least had a little bit of respect for each other.”
I look at her, hoping she can see the sincerity in my eyes. “I respect you, Anya.” I don’t tell her that what we had was precious or that I never forgot her even though I was dying to. It’s of no use now.
“You wouldn’t have left that way if you did,” she says quietly. “It’s in the past though, so you don’t have to explain if you don’t want to. Have a good night.”
She strides off, hastening her steps.
“Anya, wait!” I yell after her as she disappears into the distance. The street light above me flickers, casting an eerie glow on the deserted street. Suddenly, I'm taken back to that frigid night on the battlefield, with gunfire exploding in the air and lighting up the sky. My mind is flooded with images of chaos and destruction - fallen comrades, blood-soaked uniforms, and the harsh smell of gunpowder and dust filling my nostrils.
The air feels thick and suffocating, like it's trying to drown me in memories of that horrific night, the same night when I looked down to see Nathan, his once bright eyes dulled by pain and desperation. He begged me to save him, but I felt helpless, unable to move or even breathe as the terror consumes me.
My vision blurs and my body goes numb before I finally succumb to the darkness. The last thing I see before everything fades away is Anya walking away from me, leaving me alone to face my demons.
CHAPTER 8
Anya
“He didn’t run after you or something?” Gianna looks at me, in disbelief who I ran into – Kira's father, the one person I never expected to see again.
