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Everything will work out. It has to. Because I don’t think I can choose between Stacey and Brennon.
I slacked on the novella I was supposed to finish editing while in LA, so I spent the rest of the morning trying to make up for it. But as I suspected, thoughts and memories of Brennon and the time we spent together in LA just keep humming and swirling around in my mind, making it impossible to focus on anything else. Especially since all those memories are now darkened by the thought of leaving Stacey behind while I move away.
So just after lunchtime, I finally give up on the editing, eat a quick sandwich, then pick a lovely bouquet of flowers from the garden—roses, daisies, lilies, and marigolds. Then I head for the graveyard to visit my parents. When I can’t talk to anyone, I come here and talk to them.
I spend some time weeding the area around their grave, then arrange some pretty summer flowers in a copper vase and sit with my back against the sun-warmed headstone.
“Mom, Dad, I met a guy,” I tell them with a smile. “And the best part is, you two met him too.”
Obviously, they never answer me back, but I do see their expectantly joyous faces clearly in my mind as I pause.
“It’s Brennon, the cool jock from high school,” I tell them. “You know, the one I tutored for like two months before our English final? The same one whose ass I saved from getting booted off the football team.”
They’d always liked him a lot and kept asking me awkward questions about whether we were going out. And then even more awkward questions to the effect of, “Why not?” when I told them we weren’t dating.
Right now, I see them nodding their heads and telling me they always knew we’d end up together. That we’d seemed so perfect for each other even back then. Some of that is probably just my own heart talking, though.
“I really, really like him,” I tell them. “And you’d like him too. He’s grown up really well and turned into a very stand-up guy. His brothers—the men in his MC—respect him and look up to him.”
My throat closes up a little as thoughts of Kevin float in from the shadows.
“And I really think he could keep me safe from anything and anyone,” I say in a shaky voice. “Even the stalker. Who might be getting out of prison soon.”
My throat closes up all the way, and I can’t say anything more. All I can do is wait for the fear to pass.
And it scares me just how easily the thought of Brennon makes that happen. I told him all about Kevin and how he ruined my life, and how he nearly took my life. I couldn’t stop thinking about him in LA, and Brennon noticed how stressed I was. He promised me I didn’t have to worry about it anymore. Not now that he’s here.
But is he really here?
No, he’s in LA, and I don’t really know what we are to each other.
When I’m with him, it feels like we’ve been together forever and that I can always count on him to keep me safe. I also know he will never, ever hurt me. How I know, I can’t explain. But I know it with all my being.
But when we’re apart, I know we’ve just barely started to get to know each other. And those two extremes don’t make a lot of sense when looked at side by side.
You can count on him, a voice that sounds a lot like my mom seems to say in my head.
And a moment later, my phone chimes. I glance down and see it’s from the one person I can’t stop thinking about.
From: Brennon
You’ve been gone too long. Come back!
Then he adds a bunch of smiley emojis, probably to let me know he’s just kidding. Only I know he’s not.
And the huge smile that stretched over my face as I read his text tells me just how much I feel exactly the same way.
To: Brennon
I will. Very soon!
There’s a response back from him in no time.
From: Brennon
You better. Because I don’t think I can live without you much longer.
And I know he’s being serious, even though he adds those smiley faces again.
