Page 102 of Tennessee Trouble

Love…did he just say love?

“But…that’s what happened. And I got so caught up in you that nothing else mattered. Because for the first time in a long time, things felt right in my life. I didn’t realize how lost I had been feeling until I met you, and you made me feel like I was where I belonged. Doing what I’m supposed to be doing. Which, for the record, isn’t competing with you or Tennessee Trouble. It’s creating and experimenting with you.”

“You still didn’t tell me. You had all the time, and you didn’t mention it. I even asked you if you had experience in making cocktails, and you blew it off like all you’d ever done was play bartender at a party once in college. After everything we shared, you kept that to yourself.”

I let go of the press, missing the coolness of the metal against my skin, walking over to the stairs and sitting down. My body thanks me and I sigh, hoping this way I can manage all my feelings better. Brandt parks himself next to me, placing his hand on my knee. I glare at it, and he takes the hint, removing it just as quickly.

“I know it feels like we talked about everything, but there’s still so many stories I didn’t tell you. Like how I broke my arm when I was ten from falling out of a tree that Milo dared me to climb. Or how I lived in a coed dorm in college and they sent out a dorm wide memo and plastered it everywhere telling us to stop jacking off in the shower because the…errr, results…were clogging up the drains. The girls were so grossed out they wouldn’t talk to us for like a week.”

I giggle, unable to help myself. I’m with the girls in that story—that is disgusting—yet I can’t help but picture college-aged Brandt in my mind at the same time.

“Or, that my personal childhood nemesis was this kid named Ryan Fox, who could always better me, no matter what. It drove me insane. I don’t know if he thought it was much of a rivalry, but in my head it was. Then, senior year, two weeks before the prom, Sarah Dugan, who I had this massive crush on, dumped me to go with him instead. That’s the first time I contemplated murder.”

“First time?” I squeak.

Brandt smirks. “Second was when I walked in on Milo and Brenna on the bar.”

I break, the laughter bubbling up out of me like a geyser. Because only Brandt can mock his own anger.

“And I know what you’re thinking,” he continues, sliding his hand back to my knee. This time I let him, enjoying the feel of it. “Those are all trivial things. Yes, they are fun to know, but they don’t change anything. In my head, that’s what my entering the SPLOSH awards was. Trivial. I’d fooled around, created a drink I didn’t even have a name for, and then entered it because Brenna wouldn’t shut up until I did.”

“If it was really that trivial, then telling me wouldn’t have mattered. You would have found a moment.”

“I know.” He nods, looking down at his own feet. I can hear the woosh of air as he sucks in a deep breath, prompting me to do the same. I hold it, waiting for him to let his go. Instead, he looks up at me, eyes glassy and brimming with tears. “I realize how selfish I was, Lindee. I thought I was keeping the focus on you, because you deserve it. All of it. You’re beautiful and brilliant, and smart, and funny…and fuck…I could go on forever. And I’m mesmerized by all of it. I want the world to know how incredible you are.”

I let out the breath, my lungs burning from holding on to it, matching the sting in my eyes from the tears. Brandt really sees me like that? Plain, boring me? I’m nothing more than a girl with a grown-up chemistry set. There’s no way this man thinks I’m beautiful and brilliant.

“I don’t deserve you, Lindee. Not even a little bit. And deep down, I think I thought that if I told you, worked it into conversation somehow, you’d realize that. That you’re too good for me. That this stupid little thing I had done on a whim would be the piece that made the whole Jenga tower fall. I realize now that not telling you was even worse.”

My heart squeezes, while my tummy joins in, doing somersaults like life depends on it. If I thought I was a jumble of emotions before, now it’s even worse. I want to hug him, kiss him until we can’t breathe, and tell him I love him. That he deserves everything in life. But I also still want to punch him. I want him to understand why I hurt so bad.

“I wouldn’t have thought that,” I start.

“But you also wouldn’t have liked me telling you I’d entered SLOSH.”

Fair point.

“No, probably not. I would have probably wondered…I dunno…something.” I knock my shoulder against his, trying for camaraderie. It feels forced though, like a parent trying overly hard to bond with their teenager. “I don’t like that you felt like you couldn’t tell me.”

“Me either. But that’s a me problem, not a you problem. It’s my shortcoming. And I hope you know how sorry I am. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.”

A tear slides down his cheek, distracting me from the pain in his eyes for a second. But only a second. Because there is no missing the hurt and regret I see on his face, letting me know he means it. That he’s in just as much pain as I am over this.

So there is just one thing left to do.

The one thing I really thought I’d never do.

Forgive him.

“Know what I want?” I ask, placing my hand on top of his. I give it a squeeze, my heart pausing, waiting for his answer.

“What?”

“I want a partner who tells me things. Everything. Even if he thinks they’re trivial or is afraid of how I’m going to react. Because that’s what a partner does.”

“That’s more than fair.”

“Because what if I have a really bad idea? I need someone who is going to tell me that.”