Jamie follows us to the doors. “You sure you’re okay, sis?” he wonders, eyeing me warily.
“Jamie, please,” I scoff, dismissing him. We don’t do the whole talking-about-our-feelings-thing.
“Just making sure you’re not gonna go off the deep end about this,” he says with a flippant shrug. “We all know you can be a little melodramatic.”
Brandon chuckles under his breath, and I shoot him a death glare.
When we reach the exit, Jamie pulls me in for a fierce, bone-crushing hug that hurts as much as it heals. “Hey,” he begins, his voice low and comforting in my ear. “It’s gonna be okay, kiddo. Alright? Grandma’s gonna be fine. Don’t lose sleep over this.”
I cling to him, feeling so safe and reassured in his arms that I almost believe him. “Yeah, right.”
He squeezes me hard, and it hurts my back, but I don’t say anything. “I mean it.” He pulls back and flicks one of my earlobes. “You better be well rested when I pick you up tomorrow.”
I grimace. “Unlikely.”
“Cast all that fear and anxiety on the Lord, sis,” he instructs as he reaches out to slap Brandon on the shoulder. “Get her home safe, bro.”
***
Back at Grandma’s house, Brandon follows me inside and sets a pot of coffee to brew. I think he was nervous to leave me alone, and I don’t blame him. Honestly, I’m relieved he wanted to stay. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts in this big empty house, knowing Grandma is in the hospital right now.
Because of me.
“Are you hungry?”
I sit down at the breakfast nook and gaze out the dark window, watching the rain slide down the glass. “Not really.”
“You haven’t eaten since breakfast,” he says. “I’ll make you some grilled cheese and tomato soup. Is that still your favorite?”
My lips pull up into a half-baked smile. “Yeah.” That was like the only thing I requested for dinner whenever he, Jamie, or Dana had to babysit me. They were all too happy to oblige; it was probably the easiest meal for a college kid to make. Fortunately, Brandon is a far better cook than he used to be. As for Jamie . . . well, he’s lucky he has Rebecka.
I lower my chin into my hand as I watch him work. “Thanks for staying,” I say a little while later, when he’s sliding my grilled cheese onto a plate. He retrieves the bowl of soup from the microwave and sets both dishes down in front of me before taking the seat across from me. “About this afternoon . . .” I begin, blushing as I swirl my spoon around the soup. “I’m sorry.”
Jamie was right. I can be a little melodramatic sometimes.
Brandon shrugs one shoulder. “There were a lot of factors at play.”
I nod reluctantly, still swirling my spoon around my soup.
He leans forward, attempting to catch my eye. “Hey.” I look up. “I forgive you.”
Biting my lip, I nod again. “Thank you.”
Feeling self-conscious under his gaze, I keep checking the sides of my mouth for crumbs while I eat. Apparently, I was hungrier than I thought because I clean the dishes in record time. I even drink the vestiges of the soup.
“I feel better now,” I say as I set the bowl down and lick my lips. “I think I was tired and hangry this afternoon.”
He chuckles softly, then clears the table. “Are you ready for bed?”
I could sleep for days, but I’m not ready for him to leave just yet. Apart from my apology, we haven’t spoken about anything that was said in the heat of the moment. I have more to apologize for than my behavior.
Rising from my seat, I approach him as he closes the dishwasher. When he turns around and sees me standing behind him, he startles. “Brandon, look—”
He lifts a hand. “Evie, you’re tired and unwell. We can discuss it later.”
“I know, but I want to discuss it now,” I insist. “I said some awful things. And I shoved you. I shouldn’t have done that.”
He chuckles like my apology is comical, then shakes his head. “Frankly, I deserved it.”
