Page 43 of Restored Dreams

“What’s it matter?” With that question, he presses off the couch and brushes past me.

“Where are you going?” I stand to find his back to me.

“Out,” he throws over his shoulder and storms through the front door.

“What the fuck was that?” I turn to my younger brother.

“Growing pains?” Hank responds. He’s always been the less responsible of the two of us. He shrugs, as if a fight were an everyday thing. I know my son runs wild, but a fight isn’t in his repertoire of offenses. He’s never raised a fist to anyone in anger.

I turn for the front door when I hear Chopper’s car fire up, and then I spin back to face my brother. A smirk graces his mouth.

“So, how was your vacation?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Are you fucking stupid? Why would you set Lily up to be there?”

“You liked that, didn’t you?” Hank nods as if he pulled one over on me.

“Yeah, just great. Except she hates me just as much as she ever did.”

Hank’s all-too-pleased-with-himself expression falters. “She does not.”

“Right. You’re the one who just spent the best week of your life with her only to have her remind you in the last seconds of the mistake you made years ago to lose her.”

“Did she really bring that up?” Hank stares at me, his face like a confused child even though he’s forty-three with a salt-and-pepper beard.

Did she? I think back. Nope. Actually, I did. I mentioned my mistake, blaming my son for what happened.

I’d never fault that child, I hear again, a tenderness to her voice when she spoke of him, defending him.

I fall onto the couch, covering my face with my hands. Hank returns to his seat on the chair to the side of the couch. My furniture sucks, I note, knowing without looking up that the room is like a man cave with old recliners and a lumpy, worn fabric couch. Dark drapes and deep wood paneling. My eyes stare at the carpet, threadbare and thin. Why am I thinking of these things?

What if…

“So, the best week of your life, huh?” Hank interjects. I look up at my brother, and his face pinches as he sees something in mine.

“Yeah, genius. It was fun.”

“How fun?” Hank tilts his head, his brows dancing.

“I’m not kissing and telling you anything.”

“So, there was kissing and things to tell?” Hank’s forehead furrows with excitement.

“What are we, teenage chicks? I’m not telling you a thing.”

“Just admit you enjoyed the vacation.”

I sigh in exasperation, my chest pinching. “I did. I enjoyed it more than I should.”

+ + +

I only last until Monday morning before I break. I don’t have Lily’s number. We never exchanged them for the 739 code, and I don’t want to call the bakery. I need to see her in person. I know the shop opens at seven, so I’m there fifteen minutes later. A sweet bell trills over the door, announcing my entrance like an old-fashioned, small town bakery. However, it appears, I’m not the first customer.

I freeze as I see Lily embracing a young man in a leather jacket. She pulls back without looking up at me, cupping his face and looking him right in the face.

“I love you. We’ll work this out.”

Further stunned by her words, I speak. “What the fuck is this?”