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“Want me to?”
He shrugs as he climbs back into bed.
“Don’t go to sleep yet,” I blurt out.
“Why?”
“Because I want you to come to my house.”
Brayden frowns. “What the fuck for?”
“I want to keep an eye on you, and I don’t want to leave, pack, and come back.”
“Too fucking bad. I’m not leaving my house when this is the only place I want to be. If you want to stay, I won’t stop you, but I’ll be damned if I’m leaving, Deanna. So, either leave to pack your shit and come back, or just fucking leave and don’t come back. Right now, I don’t care.”
I stare at him for a moment. Is it me, or was he a little mean to me? Harsh at the very least. Or maybe it seems like it because he has me so worried. I nod and wordlessly leave his bedroom. Once I have Otis on his leash, we’re out the door. I’m coming back, of course.
“Deanna!”
Otis suddenly yanks away from me, nearly ripping my shoulder out of its socket in the process. His leash leaves a rope-burning sensation behind. Turning, I face Brayden. He rubs Otis’s head while also walking toward me.
“I’m sorry. I’ll ride with you, okay?”
“If you want.” When we’re on the road, I glance over at him. His head rests against the window, his eyes closed. “Have you ever had a concussion before?”
“No, and I’m not too happy to have one.” He sighs as his phone vibrates in his hand. “Guess I better talk to her before she worries too much.” He answers and I listen to his side of the conversation. “Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. I napped a little bit ago. Deanna stopped by and now, we’re on the way to her house because she wants to stay with me. I told her I’d ride with. I said I’m fine.” His voice turns harsh for a moment. “I’d like to skip Thanksgiving this year.” He pauses and holds the phone away from his ear a little. Even I can faintly hear her raised voice. “Fine. Get it set up and come whenever you want. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
When I get home, he stays in the car to finish talking to her while I go inside. Is it bad that I was momentarily relieved about Thanksgiving being canceled? I didn’t realized how anxious I was about meeting his mom until I read his text and saw it wouldn’t be happening just yet. Sounds like Thanksgiving is back on now. Should I pack enough clothes to stay until his mother arrives? Or just for tonight? I throw plenty of clothes to last until Thursday, then I’m safe for whenever his mother comes.
Next, I have to pack for Otis and that takes longer than it should. I eventually make my way back to the car. Brayden is off the phone and Otis stares at me through the window.
“What’s the new plan?” I ask.
“She’s flying out Tuesday.”
We don’t talk the rest of the way back to his house. My stomach growls and grumbles. Brayden takes my bags straight to his bedroom before I have the chance to ask him if he’s hungry. Oh, well. If he is, he’ll eat. If not, more for me. After a few minutes of rummaging through the fridge, I find chicken and some fresh veggies. He also has some potatoes. I’ll drizzle those with olive oil and put some seasoning on them before popping them into the oven to roast.
The sounds coming from my stomach seem to grow louder while I wait for the food to cook, so I attempt to reach the cabinet above his fridge where his stash of chips is hidden. Salt and vinegar aren’t my favorite, but they’ll do in a pinch. My arm stretches out, but I’m about four inches too short. Damn it. If the fridge wasn’t in the way, I’d be able to grab the knob. He lives alone; for goodness sake, why does he need to hide them? Just as I’m about to hoist myself onto the counter, Brayden scares the hell out of me. His body is behind me, his arm reaches around me, and he easily opens the cabinet.
“Which one?”
“The kettle one. How long have you been in here?” I ask as he hands me the bag.
“Since you started cutting the potatoes.”
I purposely place a frown on my face as I turn to look at him. “You’ve been watching me like a creeper?”
He shrugs. “No one but my mom has ever cooked in here. It’s weird.” He reaches into the bag for a chip. “Why are you eating these if you’re cooking?”
“Because I’m starving and the food is taking too long. How are you feeling?”
Another shrug. “A little bit of a headache and I’m tired.”
Hopefully, he’ll recover quickly. In the meantime, I’ll be here with him. I’m thankful he doesn’t seem to mind having me here. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
Aside from him being a little cranky, things have gone smoothly with Brayden. He sleeps fine and rests as planned. He doesn’t complain of headaches, but I think they bother him. He hasn’t quite been himself. I mean, he doesn’t smile that often, but that’s not too abnormal. He’s usually grimacing. He rubs his forehead, too.
“Thanks for doing this,” Brayden mumbles, running a hand through his hair.
