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The devastation in his voice killed me, made my chest go tight and achy. My skin chilled with cold, and my head pounded incessantly.
“It was the only time she ever paid attention to me,” he whispered. “I knew it was wrong. The whole time. I could’ve stopped her, so easily. Yet I just stood there. Why did I do that? Why didn’t I stop her?”
“Oh, Brandt.” With a sob, I wrapped my arms around him, not caring whether it shattered him or not. If he fell apart, I’d just put him back together again.
His muscles locked, trying to ward away my touch. But I burrowed my face into the side of his shoulder and cried with him, rocking us both back and forth. “It’s okay,” I reassured. “It’s okay, darling.”
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s not okay. I’m so fucking fucked up that I will never...be...okay.”
“Yes, you will.” I stroked his hair. “You will.”
Petting the back of his palm where he was still clutching his head, I interlocked our fingers. In return, he tightened his grip on me and turned his head slightly in my direction, barely opening up to me.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out.
I shook my head and smiled through my tears. “For what? You did nothing wrong. Honestly, you’ve done so many things right. You’re the best friend a person could ever have, and I love you more than anyone else on the planet. Don’t be sorry for that.”
He opened his mouth, probably to argue with me, but nothing came out, so he ended up pressing his lips back together and shaking his head.
“You know me, Brandt.” I squeezed his fingers supportively. “I am a guarded, closed-off person. I don’t open up to just anyone. They have to be worth it. But for you and only you, I can check my reservations at the door and be myself, completely.” I shook my head. “You always make me feel special, because you’re special. No matter what happened nine years ago when you were thirteen-freaking-years old and your mom caught you off guard, right now, right here in this yard with me, you are the best person I know. And you’re a fighter. You will get past this.”
When I leaned up to kiss his cheek, he closed his eyes and eased out a long, slow breath. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Of course not,” I answered airily, while actually I knew it was the other way around. I didn’t deserve him. “But I like you anyway, so you’re stuck with me.”
He gave a small laugh and lifted his face, making direct eye contact for the first time since I’d come outside. It was a small victory, but I’d take it. Then he sniffed and wiped the back of his hand over his nose.
Since he’d stopped openly sobbing, I had a feeling his tears were beginning to dry for good. Thank God. The world was a very dismal place when Brandt Gamble was reduced to tears.
“Thank you,” he said, letting go of my fingers so he could wrap his arms around me and tug me into his lap until my side was pressed warmly against his chest. “We moved here right after it happened, and you were the first person to really talk to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you then. Fuck, I don’t know what I’d do without you right now. Probably kill myself.”
My heart jumped with fear at the very idea, but I forced myself to stay calm and keep it light.
“Well, we can’t have that.” I smacked his chest lightly. “I wouldn’t have anyone else to complain to every time they canceled one of my favorite shows if you were gone.”
He chuckled again, then squeezed me tight and buried his face in my hair before inhaling deeply, smelling my shampoo. “God, I love you.”
My lips trembled as I tried to keep from bursting out into tears once more. The profound honor I felt for getting to be the one to ease his pain was overwhelmingly precious.
I bit the side of my lip to keep myself under control. Then I ran my fingers through his hair again and snuggled closer, because not only did I need the contact, but he was the perfect heat source on this cool night.
He smelled good too, like he was fresh from a shower. And for some reason the resulting lust that stirred through me made me remember why I’d come here in the first place, and what I’d done to him last night.
My eyes snapped open, guilt swamping me.
Pulling away, I looked up at him and choked on my own regret. “Brandt, I...I’m so sorry.”
“What?” He frowned down at me and tilted his head in confusion. “Why?”
I groaned, wondering if I should open this can of worms.
He watched me so intently I decided I couldn’t let my momentum with him backslide.
“I, uh, if I ask you something serious,” I started before closing my eyes and wondering if I should continue before I did anyway, “would you be perfectly honest with me?”
A bitter laugh welled from him. “Sarah, you just learned the worst, deepest darkest secret I’ve ever had. I think it’s safe to say I have absolutely no reason to lie about anything from here on out.”
“Well...” I opened my lashes to watch his face. Then I stroked his arm, already trying to soothe him in case my question pulled a trigger. “When...when Colton told everyone how he saw your mom cornering you against the wall and kneeling in front of you—” As his muscles contracted, I petted him a little faster. “I couldn’t help but remember the way you reacted last night when I trapped you against the wall and sucked your—”
