Page 24 of Changing Lanes

“Dinner is here. I hope you like lamb, Brannon, it’s our chef’s specialty.” My mother keeps trying to save this, but I’m more than ready to leave.

“It’s perfect, ma’am. My momma makes an incredible jelly with hers,” Brannon replies.

I’ve never been so humiliated as I am right now. The old parable, ‘silence is golden’ has never been truer. I’m thankful my father didn’t continue to insult Brannon; I don’t think I could’ve taken another minute.

After dinner, I take Brannon to look around the grounds. The leaves on the outer edge of our property are picture perfect with their bright gold, red, and burnt orange hues. They crunch beneath our feet as we walk a path down to the Hudson.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” I say as I shake my head.

“Torrie, it wasn’t you and you can’t control him,” he offers as he tries to calm me.

“Humiliating is a better word. He’s such a prick. I should’ve known. I’m sorry for putting you through this, I don’t deserve you.” I lean against his shoulder as we walk.

“There’ll be none of that, you always forget how incredible you are, Torrie. Don’t let him rob you of your brilliance.” He turns his head, kissing me on mine.

“Thank you. I don’t know how you withstood his harsh words.” Brannon truly leaves me in awe. I’ve seen him angry but never enough to lose control. His maturity is sometimes beyond the pale.

“We need to be getting back, it’s getting late,” he says as he turns us to the main house.

“I’d prefer to keep walking to the airport.” We chuckle

“Let’s stop in the library, maybe we can find a something to keep our minds busy.” I pull him toward the doors.

“Sounds great besides, I’d follow you anywhere,” he says with a wink.

“Bronte and Austen are my favorites, although I do love Thomas Hardy,” I tell him as we browse the shelves.

“Mary Shelley blew my mind when I was ten, and I’ve never looked back,” Brannon says. “Not to be cliché but Poe and Steven King. I know, such guy reads.” He laughs.

“I love them also.” I smile.

I wish I could say I was surprised when we make our way to the stairs and my father appears. Startling me, my father calls my name, “Torrence. My office, now.” He turns on his heel and exits the foyer.

Rolling my eyes at Brannon, I curl my lip in disgust. He chuckles. “I’ll be up in a few, let me find out what he wants.” I hand my book to Brannon while my father waits impatiently. I know Brannon wants to say something so I beat him to it. “I’ll be fine. One more day.” Clutching his hand, he smiles then kisses me before turning to walk upstairs. He looks back several times on his way up. I try my best not to look nervous, giving him winks and wrinkle my nose. I even stick my tongue out at him, breaking into a huge smile after.

Knocking on my father’s door, I wait for his acknowledgment before entering. “Come.” Such a pleasant way to address your only child.

“Father, you wanted to see me?” I question as if I have no clue what this could be about. He levels me with a cutting glare.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He folds his arms over his chest.

I give him a pointed stare. “Meaning?”

“Do not play with me, young lady. Why the hell did you bring him here? Do you think you’re winning points?” he yells at me, and I cringe knowing Brannon can hear him as his words carry up the stairs.

“No, I do not. Nor am I trying to ‘win’ at anything. I like him.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I stand my ground.

He leans back, grabbing the armrests of the chair. “Get him out of my home. You were not raised to go slumming.”

What the fuck? “I’m not slumming. If you would only give him a chance. He’s brilliant, earning various scholarships,” I argue.

“Scholarships? I can just imagine you being his beneficiary next. Did you know they’re poor? You no longer visit your friends. You’ve been seen in numerous places with him. I know he stays at my apartment. You’ve literally become a whore to a vagrant.” His face is distorted as he spits venom at me.

“You have no clue who he is, and you certainly are judging him unfairly,” I protest as my father would expect, the proper way.

He sneers, “Get rid of him or I will.” My father stands, moving around his desk to stand over me. “Or you’ll both be sorry.” He storms from the room, slamming the door.

Drying my face, I hurry upstairs. Once at the top, I see Brannon propped against the wall. The look on his face tells me he heard everything. I frantically search my mind for the right words, but Brannon knows I’m without a defense. For me or him.