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But she wasn’t done. “If I invited somebody here who blatantly disrespected you, how wouldyoufeel?”
“I don’t give a shit what you do,” Jacob said. But he still wouldn’t look at her.
Isabel waited, staring at his averted head.
Finally, Jacob said, “I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“You weren’t the one being picked on and harassed,” Isabel said, managing to keep her voice level—somehow. “Were you?”
Brant was the one to break the silence. “I’m sorry.”
It was ... unexpected.
He shifted his feet and looked away, directing his gaze at everybody but her. But he kept talking. “That ... um, it’s kinda why I wanted to come over. I figured I might have a minute to tell ... Aaron I was sorry, to show you guys I’m not always an asshole.”
I’ll be damned,Isabel thought, eying the kid with a bit more consideration.
Jacob shifted to stand closer to his friend. “See?”
Isabel flicked him a look. “Hush.” Focusing back on Brant, she asked, “Why are you sorry?”
“I ... ” He huffed out a breath. “I just am, okay? I get mad sometimes. Do we gotta have a big talk about it or can I just go tell Aaron I’m sorry? I’ll tell Brooklyn, too.”
Isabel saw nothing in his eyes but guilt and embarrassment, but before she moved to call the other boy into the room, she asked, “Does your father know where you are?”
“No.” His cheeks turned a darker red. “He’s down in Bangor for a couple of days, helping his cousin with some stuff, earning some money. I texted my mom. She knows.”
“Okay. You know your dad won’t like you being here ... and I don’t want to cause problems between him and your mother.” God knows Brant’s poor mother had enough problems, just dealing with Lloyd.
“I’m not telling him,” Brant mumbled, staring at his feet.
Isabel decided to leave that statement alone. Walking to the door of the kitchen, she called Aaron back in and gestured for Jacob to leave the room so Aaron and Brant could talk in private. He clearly didn’t want to go, but he did, after shooting Aaron and Brant a last look.
A few minutes later, Brant left, giving Isabel a tentative smile. He took another minute to look for Brooklyn and Isabel saw the younger girl give him a fatalistic shrug in response to whatever apology he offered.
On his way out, Brant spotted Travis. Isabel saw the way his shoulders straightened, his head lifted. Travis nodded at him, the same way he’d nodded at Aaron and she had a suspicion she knew exactly what—or who—was behind the kid’s abrupt change in attitude.
Wonders never cease, she mused.
Feeling like the world was trying to realign, she called everybody back in.
Aaron was washing his hands, looking puzzled. When she joined him, he whispered, “Did you make him do that?”
“No.” She huffed out a laugh and glanced over her shoulder to see Brooklyn telling Travis how to settle Mariah into her high chair. Travis, the smartest man she’d ever known, listened and nodded soberly, then thanked Brooklyn for her help and the young girl glowed under his attention. Looking back at Aaron, she lightly touched his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Surprised.” He shrugged, then moved in, gave her one of his quick, rare hugs.
She hugged him back, keeping the contact light. “Areyou?”
“Yeah.” Aaron stepped back and his cocky smile was back in place. “Just feeling a little ... weird, I guess. That’s the first time anybody’s ever apologized for that shit and seemed to mean it.”
He moved around her and headed to the table, telling Brooklyn not to start hogging the potatoes before the meal started.
Isabel wanted to hold him closer for a little bit longer. That kid’s young heart had already been bruised so much. But as he settled down between Brooklyn and Storm, he was grinning, and he looked happy.
Sometimes, that was the most she could hope for on a day to day basis.
Turning back to the counter, she focused on plating up the rest of the meal.
