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I slammed the door, realized the coffee-maker’s cord was stuck in it, then re-opened it and slammed it again. Through the kitchen window, I could see Garrett and Chastity watching me. I must’ve looked like a total psycho.
“You’re not getting my coffee maker,” I said again, through tear-streaked eyes. “No fucking way.”
Seven
CLAUDIA
“And you left? Just like that?”
I nodded, standing in the ornate Victorian doorway. Tears streaked down my face as I sniffled, merging in with the rain.
“But why did you take the coffee maker?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Oh sorry!” Brandon blinked, suddenly realizing he hadn’t invited me inside. “Come in, come in!”
He slid one of his big arms around me and practically pulled me inside. It felt warm and reassuring and immeasurably good.
“Claudia,” he said, closing the door. “I’m so sorry.”
The house really was beautiful, especially at night. Lots of old, original finishes. Some still needed repairs, but—
“Wanna talk about it?”
I shook my head. Probably a little too quickly.
“That’s fine,” Brandon said sympathetically. “I can wait.”
Sympathetic I could take. Pity I could not. I didn’t detect even the slightest pity as Brandon took me by the wrist and led me into the kitchen. Before I could protest, he thrust a beer into my hand.
“Or would you rather have wine? I think Colin has a bottle somewhere. Let me—”
I tilted the bottle back in answer and downed five or six really big gulps. The cold liquid tasted amazing, especially against the warmth of the room’s big old, cast-iron radiator. Even with the water dripping from my hair, I let out a long, gratified sigh.
“Beer it is then,” Brandon smiled.
I’d wanted to confide in Lauren. One of my oldest friends, Lauren would know exactly what to do. It wasn’t until I pulled up to her house that I realized she was still in Italy — and had been for most of the week. Thinking back, she’d probably told me a half dozen times and it just never registered.
Crying in front of her house, I felt like a shitty friend.
You gave up most of your friends for Garrett, I reminded myself bitterly. Remember that?
And so I’d driven here. Mechanically. Automatically. Through the pouring rain.
It was the only other place I could think of.
“Where are the others?” I asked.
“Colin crashed early,” he said. “Morning swim practice. Hunter’s in his room with the door closed.” He squinted down at me shrewdly. “Trust me, you do not want to mess with Hunter’s room. Especially when the door’s closed.”
I nodded, looking back at Brandon and actually seeing him for the first time. He wore old faded sweatpants, with some kind of logo emblazoned on one leg that the dryer must’ve burned off years ago. Stretched over his massive chest was the tightest black T-shirt ever. It looked even more comical painted over the thickest part of his biceps. I laughed inwardly, realizing it could be an XXL and it would still look small on him.
He waited until I drained my beer then handed me another one, already open. Before I could say anything else he turned a kitchen chair around and straddled it backwards.
“So…” he said sternly, sitting down. “Out with it.”
I told him. I told him everything. From my failed marriage to my failed attempt at living with my ex to my failure to find a full-time teaching job. Brandon listened intently, crossing his arms over the back of his chair. Resting his chin on top of his hands, waiting on every sad word of my sorry tale.
