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She does, but I can practically hear her thinking too hard. As I open the passenger side door for her, I pause and run a fingertip across her forehead, smoothing away the worry lines.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Okay, something, but it’s dumb.” She looks up at me with those brown eyes. I could stare into them all day. “This feels like too much.”
I’d love nothing more than to confess exactly how real it is. She opened the door. All I need is to walk through it.
Instead, I lean in, noting the way her lips part as I press a lingering kiss on her cheek. Not moving away, I let my mouth hover near her ear.
“Maybe it’s not too much. Maybe you’ve just grown used to not enough.”
* * *
When I walk out of the locker room after what was the hardest and best practice since I’ve gotten here, I’m not prepared to see Brandon waiting. Not unlike the exact way I surprised his sister this morning.
Oh, the irony.
Even though I knew I’d see him eventually, it’s a complete shock to see him now. Here. Other than the navy suit and the deep frown he’s wearing, he doesn’t look all that different from the Brandon of my memories.
He does, however, look angrier.
I pause, almost dropping my duffel bag. “Brandon.” It’s half statement, half question.
“Logan.” His voice is clipped and all aggression.
We stand there for a long moment. I’m not sure how to navigate this unhappy reunion. It’s obvious why he’s here. Whether from Parker, her father, or the news, Brandon obviously got wind of his sister dating me. And he isn’t happy about it.
Not that I can blame him. I gave Brandon reason to mistrust me. He just doesn’t know that he did the same to me first.
And honestly, I don’t really want to tell him. Parker knows, and that’s enough. It feels weird now to hold Brandon responsible for a conversation ten years ago—one I was never supposed to hear. I’m not sure what he would or could even say about it. He might not even remember.
At this point, Brandon’s role shouldn’t matter. What does matter is me reassuring him that he can trust me with Parker.
“I’m glad you came by,” I tell Brandon. “I hoped we’d get to talk sometime.”
“Yeah? You could have called me any time,” he says pointedly, as my phone dings in my hand with a message.
It’s Parker, texting that she’s done and asking when I’m headed to her office.Heading up, I quickly text back, then slide my phone in my pocket.
“Big plans?” Brandon asks. “With mysisterperhaps?”
Okay. The sharp tone and sneery look on Brandon’s face tells me how this is going to go. And I get it. If I were Brandon, I wouldn’t want Parker near me either.
I slide my phone into my pocket. “Want to walk?”
“Not particularly.” But he falls into step beside me as we head for the elevators.
I study my former best friend, trying to gauge what might or might not set him off and what might diffuse the tension. Back then, Brandon was driven when it came to school and sports, but easygoing otherwise. Now, he seems more intense. In his tailored suit, he reminds me a lot of his father. A little too much. I have to wonder how the years might have changed him.
I press the elevator button, and it opens seconds later. Brandon steps in first, turning to face me with his arms crossed. Parker’s only up two floors, so this conversation needs to be quick unless we want to have it with her as an audience. Which I’d really rather not. Brandon obviously has things he wants to say.
Theory confirmed as the elevator doors slide closed and Brandon is suddenly in my face.
“I don’t want you near Parker,” he practically snarls.
Normally, someone getting in my face is enough to ratchet my own anger up to the top. Today, though, I just feel tired. Tired of unresolved issues from the past lingering. Tired of carrying the weight of my own anger at my parents, at Brandon, at myself.
Letting go of it all leaves me feeling lighter.
