This shocks me more than finding out she isn’t living in the fancy-schmancy house I may or may not have driven by multiple times the past month.
“Did you ask around town why she’s back?” My tone is more inquisitive than friendly.
Brax takes a swig of his beer before nodding his head. “Yeah. I heard rumors, but none I’m willing to share.”
“What does that mean?” The hammering of my heart echoes in my tone.
Brax stares me straight in the eyes. “That means I’m not doing the legwork for you, Ryan. If you want answers, go ask the person who can give them to you.”
I lick my suddenly dry lips. “Did you see her face on the way out? I don’t think she’s up for interrogation.”
“Didyousee her face on the way out? This interrogation is ten years in the making. It just isn’t her head on the chopping block.”
“And mine is?”
Brax shrugs for the second time, adding to my annoyance.
“She left, Brax. She walked out onallof us.”
“You lied, Ryan. You walked out on her first.”
I grit my teeth, struggling to hold in my retaliation. I did what needed to be done. Was it the right thing to do? At the time, yes. Do I regret what I did? Yes, every fucking day. But wading through the same shit time and time again isn’t getting me anywhere fast. I can’t change my past. I can only live with the consequences of my mistakes. Chris’s death is a constant reminder of that.
Spotting the groove between my brows, Brax suggests, “Say what you want to say, Ryan. No one here will judge you. You judge yourself enough there isn’t room for anyone else.”
You might think he’s being snarky, but I know better. He is pushing me to express myself as he has done the past ten years.No. Scrap that.The past twenty-three years. Chris was the jokester. Brax is a realist. Just like Savannah, he calls it as he sees it.
“She’s hiding something from me. I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s something major. You’re not the only one she won’t look in the eye. She pretended she didn’t know me last month, Brax. If my huff didn’t call her out as a liar, she would have fled. Who does that? Who acts like family isn’t family?”
“A person who doesn’t have any,” Brax replies in an instant, his voice not angry or frustrated. He is just straight-up remorseful. “Where’s her family, Ryan? Where are the people who have her back like I have yours, and you have mine? Have you looked into that? Or are you too busy analyzing every man she crosses paths with, you’ve missed what’s really going on? Stop wondering who she is with and start wondering who is with her. If Chris’s decision should teach us anything, it should be not to waste a moment. Regret doesn’t end when you die, Ry. It follows you to the grave. Get rid of yours before it’s the cause of your demise.”
Smirking at my slack-jaw response, Brax stands from his seated position, then presses his lips to Chris’s headstone. “I love you, brother. I’ll see you soon.”
After whacking my shoulder three times, he stalks in the direction Savannah fled only ten minutes ago. My gaped mouth doesn’t close until the rumble of his Harley sounds like a mosquito buzzing away.
I am frozen in both shock and awe. I always knew Brax would be a brilliant man, but he just floored me. Selfishness has never entered his vocabulary but neither has compassion. He doesn’t want an apology from Savannah. He doesn’t need it. He has already forgiven her.
I wish I could do the same.
* * *
Another fifteen minutes pass before I say goodbye to Chris in the same manner Brax did. I would like to say our alone time was used wisely, but that would be way off the mark. I sat in silence, drinking beer and contemplating what Brax and Savannah said.
I’ve known about Savannah’s return for a little over a month, but instead of investigating the reason for her sudden homecoming, I’m pretending she is a missing person. I guess old habits do die hard—even ones you’ll do anything to ignore. Even anger couldn’t stop my body from reacting to seeing Savannah again. Except this time, it wasn’t just my cock getting excited—my heart went crazy as well. I’ve told myself every day for the past six years that I don’t love Savannah. Not once has my heart believed my lies.
I’m disturbed from my thoughts when a shimmer of white secures my attention as I head back to my truck. Speaking of old habits. . . no matter how many times I tried to sell my truck the past decade, I never accepted a single offer. A collector of classic cars even offered me twenty thousand dollars above the asking price, yet I still couldn’t let her go.
It is not just the memories I have of Savannah in this truck that cemented her place in my life, it is the ones I have with my brothers. The years before things soured, Chris put more hours into her motor than I did. She belongs to him as much as she does me, so it isn’t right for me to sell her.
After placing my empty beer bottles in the passenger seat of my truck, I snag the slip of paper tucked under the windshield wipers. “Abby Rowe,” I mutter to myself, reading the name printed above a Florida state cell phone number.
I scan my truck’s pristine paintwork, seeking any damage. Other than the graze down the left-hand side I’ve never gotten around to buffing out, there doesn’t appear to be any damage, so why was I left contact details?
Shrugging off the note as a woman too shy to approach me, I slide into the driver’s seat and crank the ignition. She fires over with one turn. I don’t know what Savannah did when she worked on my motor all those years ago, but she hasn’t missed a beat since that day.
I find myself traveling the same route home as I have numerous times the past month. It isn’t the direct route, but the one that meanders by the Mercedes owner’s address. Even knowing Savannah doesn’t live there hasn’t stopped my curiosity. There is a connection I am missing—I just know it.
As my truck glides down the pristine tree-lined estate, portions of Savannah’s disclosure plays through my mind like a movie. “They wouldn’t let me go. I begged them to let me attend the church service, but they said it wasn’t safe.”
