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“Yup . . . I’ll meet you in ten.”
WE DECIDED ON the Greenswood Diner. It was one of the best places to go in town for breakfast.
“I’ll have coffee . . . just bring the pot. Two eggs over medium, with crispy bacon, hash browns, and the French toast.” Bran cleared his throat and looked at me pointedly, so I added, “And a bowl of fruit.”
I handed the waitress my menu with a smile, then grimaced as Bran ordered egg whites scrambled, turkey bacon, cottage cheese, and a green tea.
“Seriously?” I asked once we were alone. “Do you eat like that all the time?”
Bran shrugged. “I branch out on special occasions, but, yeah, for the most part, I like to eat healthy. It’s good for the body.”
If you say so, I thought, but didn’t say out loud. Who was I to judge the way he wanted to fuel his body. Just because I couldn’t do it, didn’t mean I couldn’t applaud his commitment and restraint.
Once I had my coffee and Bran had his tea, I asked the question that had been burning on my brain since the day I met Bran and realized he and Cade didn’t like each other.
“So, what happened between you and Cade?”
“To get into that, I’ll have to go back further, give you some back story.” Bran’s blue eyes were intense as he looked at me, his hands clasping onto his mug like it was a lifeline.” I’m a pretty private person, but we’ve known each other a while and I trust you. My past isn’t something I like to talk about, but you’ll need to know to understand the place I was in when I first met Wilkes.”
Wilkes was Cade’s, and soon to be my, last name. I don’t know why they chose to call each other by last names, rarely using their firsts.
Men.
I kept quiet, waiting for him to go on at his own pace, since I was about to learn more about Bran.
“I grew up in foster care,” Bran said, his voice low, his fingers taping on the ceramic mug. “It wasn’t fun, or pretty. I moved around a lot, had some pretty shitty foster parents, and one really good one. Unfortunately, they got pregnant with their own baby and I ended up getting packed out. By the time I was fourteen, I was lying and stealing to get by, living on the streets, but still going to school. I used a fake address, signed permission slips, registrations, and such myself, and passed it off as being from a foster family. When I was eighteen, I fell in with a bad crowd and started popping pills.”
I kept silent, but reached across the table to take Bran’s hand in mine. I had to offer him some sort of comfort.
“By the time I ran into Cade in that bar, I was an addict. Cade was with his motorcycle club, and we were both about twenty-two. I was hopped up and angry. Jealous over the way they were together, they way they were laughing and drinking, having a good time with pretty girls all over them. What happened was totally on me, Cade didn’t even see it coming. One second he was sitting at the bar, talking to a pretty girl and drinking a beer, and the next I was breaking a bottle over his head.”
“Oh my God,” I murmured, my free hand covering my mouth.
I could only imagine how pissed Cade must have been.
“Cade wasn’t as yoked as he is now, but he still has me by three inches, and like I said, I was high as a kite . . . As soon as he whipped around, his face full of fury, I knew I was fucked. I tried to fight back, landed a couple shots, but, truth be told, I got my ass kicked.”
“Bran,” I whispered, my heart breaking at the look on his face over the memory.
He turned his hand palm up under mine and squeezed.
“I deserved it, and it was actually the best thing that could have happened. I should have ended up in jail that night, but of course, the club doesn’t press charges, so I spent the next few days in the hospital. While there, I met a nurse named Sue who helped me get my shit together. She got me in a program and helped set my life on a better course.”
He paused while the waitress set our food in front of us.
“Thank you,” I told her, then turned my attention back to Bran.
“I worked my way through college, living frugally and saving when I could, until I eventually passed the bar. I work out every day and eat healthy to make up for all the years I treated my body like shit. I don’t live in the past, and I’ve made amends for everything . . . except that night with Cade.”
“It was a long time ago,” I said.
Bran shook his head.
“Cade hasn’t forgotten or forgiven, and I don’t expect him to, but I do need to man up and apologize. I just haven’t found the right time yet.”
“It’s been, like, seventeen years.”
“I know, I figure I should find the courage in another three or so,” Bran said, giving me a small grin.
