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I’ve never known anyone to be so warm, but Brody seems to run hot all the time. When his arms wrap around me, it’s the best feeling. One that disarms me completely and leaves me no choice but to melt into him.
Our hands link together again, and for a short moment I’m swept away from the here and now. I find a happy place I didn’t know could exist in Brody’s embrace.
“My mom,” he tells me with a deep sigh, breaking the quietness. “She’s the reason I don’t drink.”
There’s a sudden shift, and when I tilt my head to look up at him, I find him staring down at our hands. It wasn’t a purposeful action, but my thumb is tracing the silky line on his hand. When I stop, his eyes flicker to mine.
The look in his eyes is dark and sad. So damn sad that my throat swells at the sight. My heart threatens to stop in protest because the emotion seems so out of place on him. Suddenly, he looks older and hardened. All I’m capable of doing is pulling his arms tighter around me and clutching his hands harder.
“She had a problem with alcohol and after my father left her, it became worse. After Maggie was born and her dad left too, she was hardly ever sober.”
“That’s…” I have no idea what to say, especially when I can see all his hurt broiling in his gaze.
“It was fucking shitty and the only reason we made it through was because my dad hired a nanny and paid for all the bills. But he wasn’t really around at that time. His business was taking off and he traveled a lot.” A small smile tugs at his lips before he tells me, “She cleaned up when Holly’s dad came into the picture. But then she got pregnant and things started to darken again.”
It sounds like she struggled with having kids, but I don’t say anything. It’s obvious Brody cares about his mom, and I don’t want to hurt him more than he already is. Or worse, I can’t bear the thought of him closing himself off to me.
“Reece was a decent guy, but he was killed in an accident at work just before Holly was born and Mom spiraled out of control. I was seven and Maggie was a little over a year old. The nanny my father hired tried to help as much as she could for as long as she could. Then one day Mom attacked her in a drunken episode and she left.”
“Wait, she just left you guys on your own?”
“I was almost eleven by that time, so I could look after the girls a little. We managed, and my dad was around more. He would pick us all up for the weekend when Mom didn’t give him shit, and when she did, he would take me and send me back with treats for the girls.”
“He sounds like a nice man.”
A sour laugh pushes from his lips with a shake of his head. “He was good to us but he was shitty to her most of the time.”
“Can you blame him?”
The silence that follows my outburst almost makes me regret it. All the hurt he’s feeling over his mom, still doesn’t overshadow the affection he has for her. It’s heartbreaking to witness all the love he holds for someone who failed him. I can’t imagine a mother being anything other than what my mom was to me.
“No,” he finally says with a shake of his head. “I can’t blame him for resenting her, but he left her, too.”
“He still took care of you in a way.”
“He was a good dad even when he wasn’t the nicest person.” There’s a firm tone to his remark that stops me from saying any more. “You asked what happened to my hand.” When I nod, he continues, “Maggie was meant to be watching Holly while I was finishing my homework. My dad was going to pick me up that weekend to take me to the track and I wouldn’t be able to get it done in time for school otherwise. Anyway, Holly got into Mom’s purse and broke her lipstick.”
I know I’m not going to like whatever’s coming, still it doesn’t stop me from listening. My chest tightens with every word. My heart aches with every settling breath he takes.
“When Mom found Holly, she lost her shit. It was bad, and the only way I could think of protecting her in that moment was by destroying something Mom loved more than her lipstick.”
“What did you do?” The question sputters from me while I try to swallow down the ball of worry clogging my throat. “Brody…”
“She had this globe that opened up to a wet bar, it’s where she kept the expensive booze she gave to her guests. It was a stupid idea, but I wanted to protect my sister. Holly was so tiny and she was pulling her around like a rag doll, so I tipped the whole thing over. I didn’t realize that one of the spindles on it was broken and it caught my hand.”
“Oh my God,” I blurt out, tightening my hold on his hand, stroking the length of his scar lightly.
“It didn’t hurt. I was so relieved that she let Holly go, that I didn’t feel the pain. It was just blood. So much blood everywhere that Maggie was screaming along with Holly. Mom didn’t know what to do with any of it, so I ran to the neighbor’s place and he took me to the hospital.”
A grimace scrunches his face, and the boy is back. Not the smiling and joking one that I’ve grown to like. Right now, I can see a very real lost boy, and my heart breaks for him. My broken heart shatters and splinters some more while I watch him stare out at the ocean.
“I never went back to that house. My dad took me away, but the girls had to stay with her. We shared a last name, so he had a right to me. It didn’t matter how hard he tried, she didn’t let him have them.”
“Why not?” It seems like a selfish thing to do.
“In spite of everything,” he murmurs, glancing back down at me. A light gust blusters through my hair, tangling us together when he cups my face. With his thumb stroking over my cheek, he gives me a weak smile. “She was a mom. Good or bad, she wanted to keep us enough that when child services got involved, she got clean and did everything they asked of her to get the girls back from foster care.”
“But not you?”
