Page 59 of Finding Summer


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“We’re serious,” Breckin adds, pushing his chair closer. “Obviously we would both like more with you, but we’re here for you. No sun, right?”

I nod as another tear leaks free.

“So, if you need anything at all, groceries, a trip to the hospital in the middle of the night, someone to hold an umbrella over your head because you got too much sun out on a run, we’re here. We mean it. Any time, day or night.”

The dam holding my tears breaks free. They fall in a torrent.

They’re here. They’ve seen the side of me I hide away, they’ve seen the worst of this horrible disease, and they haven’t run away. Part of me thinks it’s too good to be true. That their words are just words. But the rest is so tired of being strong, so tired of hiding in the shadows while life passes me by.

“I don’t date,” I blurt through my tears.

I don’t. I tried a few times right after college. It never worked out. So I gave up. Now, I fuck and run. One night of fun. That’s all it ever is for me. I never let anyone close. Never let my walls down, too afraid that if they saw the real me, if they saw the pain, they’d flee. So I run first. But Brendan and Breckin, in just a small amount of time, they’ve destroyed every single one of my walls. Not just broken down the door. Not these two, they smashed every brick.

“We’re not talking about a wedding here, Prude, not even a date. Just a chance to be friends. To be here for you, whenever you need us.”

I nod as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. There’s the shoe that always drops. They don’t want me. Not anymore. It’s too much, it always is. They just want to be friends. My walls crumbled, and I’m left open and bare. Again.

My tears spill onto his shirt, yet he holds me tighter. Another set of hands caress my back in a gentle massage as Breckin closes the distance and joins our embrace.

Taking a deep breath, I inhale their scent, the salty breeze mixed with evergreens, bacon, and musk. They smell like home. Everything wonderful from my childhood. Safe. For the moment, I feel safe, cherished even. My walls crumbled, my health toppled, but these two are here, holding me up.It’s not real. They’re only here as friends. But for the moment, I’ll take it. For the moment, I don’t have to be strong. I don’t have to put on my mask and pretend that everything is fine.

I close my eyes, taking in another deep lung full of their scent. Like a security blanket wrapped around me, it calms all my nerves.

I should tell them they've tumbled my walls, broken inside. But it wouldn’t change anything. Instead, my sarcastic shell refuses to let them know the whole truth. “I’m going to have to show you how to cook a real breakfast.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad. The eggs are good.”

“That’s debatable.” I have yet to taste them, but they are definitely not the fluffy, silky soft ones I'm used to.

“How about this,” Breckin laughs at my back, “you cook breakfast, I’ll make dinner?”

“Will there be more steaks?”

“Whatever you want, Shades.”

“Deal.” It sounds like more. My heart wishes it was more, but I refuse to go there. “But seriously, how can you not make bacon and eggs?”

“I can cook bacon. I was just distracted this morning.” I feel his shrug behind me. “Besides, I never really had anyone teach me.”

I jerk my head up, turning to look at him, yet it’s Brendan that answers.

“Our mom left us when we were really young, guess we were more trouble than she wanted. Our dad raised us by himself. He worked first-shift at a metal works factory and was gone before we woke up. Breakfast was whatever we could scrounge around by ourselves. Usually cereal. But, he was always there for dinner.”

“I’m so sorry,” I stutter. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to grow up without a mother or to be a child getting around for school all by yourself. My childhood wasn’t always the greatest, especially after I started getting sick, but my mom and Nana were always there for me.Nana was my rock. I’m not sure where I would be without her.

“He did the best he could. Taught me as much as he knew how about cooking, Brendan how to use tools, and made sure we both knew how to work hard.”

“Still, though, I can’t imagine not having your mom there.”

“We got by.”

“How old were you when she left?”

“Three,” they state in unison.

“You were so young,” I whisper the words as all the air leaves my lungs. Three years old. That’s barely old enough to talk or remember.

“It was a long time ago.” Breckin states, tracing circles on my shoulder with his index finger.

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