Page 29 of Waiting to Love You

“You’ve got this, man.” Brady taps the neck of his bottle against mine before pushing off the counter. “Well, I guess I should shower and find something to do since you’re kicking me out.”

“You should call Emersyn and apologize for being a jerk last night.”

Brady’s entire demeanor changes. “Just leave it alone, man. Emersyn is a big girl. She’s just fine. I don’t need to run over there and apologize for being myself.”

“What’s going on, man?” I ask, taking a healthy pull from my beer before placing the bottle on the counter.

“Nothing,” he growls as he tries to leave the kitchen, but I grab his arm.

“That doesn’t sound like nothing, Brady.”

“It’s complicated, and to be honest, I don’t even know what’s going on myself.” His shoulders slump in defeat.

This isn’t my friend. I can tell that there’s more to this story than he’s willing to share, but I can’t force him. Brady has always been such an easy-going guy. No one ever has a bad thing to say about him, and he damn sure never loses his temper, but there’s something about Emersyn that pushes all his buttons.

“Just know I’m here if you need someone to talk to, all right?” I grumble.

I’m not the guy who usually discusses his emotions. Unless it’s about Bristol. There’s no way I could hide my feelings for her, even if I wanted to. When it comes to her, I’m an open book. But this is the last thing I want to be discussing right now. Brady needs to confide in someone, though, so I’m willing to listen if he needs me to.

“Thanks.” He gives me a tight smile before continuing out of the kitchen. “I’ll be out of your hair in thirty minutes.” He turns and heads down the hallway, back to his room. A few moments later, I hear the shower turn on.

Reassured that he will be on his way out soon, I grab a piece of paper and a pencil out of a drawer to make a list. I don’t have a huge repertoire of things I can cook, but I make a mean lasagna. I write all the ingredients down on the list, adding wine and beer, before shoving it into my pocket and walking out the door.

There’s only one grocery store in Tyson’s Creek, and thankfully, they have everything I need. After grabbing all the ingredients, I head right back to my apartment. As I pull into the driveway, I notice Brady’s Jeep is gone.

Mrs. Thomas comes out of the front door, holding something. “I was just going to leave this in the apartment for you two. I know how much you love my apple pie.”

I give her a bright smile before taking the dish from her hands. “We sure do. Thank you.”

“Are you coming down for dinner tonight?” Mrs. Thomas asks.

I’m sure she knows someone is coming to visit me tonight. I just hope Brady didn’t let on who it was.

“No, thank you, Mrs. Thomas. I’m going to be having a friend over for dinner.”

“What did I tell you about calling me Mrs. Thomas?” she scolds as she pats my cheek. “Well, enjoy your evening. If you need anything, you know where to find us.”

“Yes, Mrs.—” I cut myself off. “I mean, Mama.”

“That’s a good boy.” She smiles in my direction before turning around and striding back inside.

Once I’m sure she is safely inside, I walk around the side of the garage and up the stairs, depositing the pie on the counter before walking back downstairs and grabbing the groceries. After a few trips, I get everything into the apartment and check the time. I have about three hours until I need to pick up Bristol. I’ll probably be cutting it close, but I have just enough time to get everything prepped, in the oven, and take a shower before it’s time to pick her up.

I scan the apartment, looking for anything out of place. Our apartment is small, but there’s more than enough space for two bachelors. We have a decent-sized living room with a small sectional pushed up against the outer wall and a sixty-inch TV mounted on the wall across from it, separating the living room from the kitchen. There’s a small table in the kitchen, enough space for Brady and me to eat, although we usually eat on the sofa if we even eat up here.

Once I’m sure there’s nothing out of place, I head into the only bathroom and stick my head inside. Brady did a good job of picking up. Not that we make much of a mess anyway. Satisfied with the state of the bathroom, I turn around and head back into the kitchen to start preparing the ingredients for dinner. My body moves on autopilot as I assemble everything to create the perfect lasagna and turn on the oven to preheat.

“I should have made sauce,” I grumble as I grab the jar of sauce and pour some along the bottom of the baking dish I found in the cabinet, before layering lasagna noodles, ricotta, and mozzarella cheese, the ground meat, and sauce on top of each other.

Once everything is arranged to perfection, I cover the dish with aluminum foil and shove it into the oven. Setting the time for forty minutes, I pace back and forth in front of the oven, willing the time to pass as quickly as possible. I’m getting antsy. All the nervous energy about being alone with Bristol comes bubbling to the surface, making it almost impossible for me to sit down.

“I need to get rid of some of this energy or it’s only going to get worse,” I mumble to myself as I turn toward the back of the apartment, heading directly into my bedroom.

Running has become second nature to me at this point. When I first joined the Marines, it was exercise. A way for me to remain in tip-top physical condition when I was on the battlefield. However, ever since I spent that one night with Bristol, it was my time alone. A time when I would let my mind remember what it was like to be with her and imagine what it would be like when I came back home to her as I promised.

Right now, it’s neither. I need to quiet my brain, and maybe the 3k that Brady and I mapped out when we first arrived is just the thing to do about it. Either way, I’ll have just enough time to shower, get the lasagna out of the oven, and head to pick up Bristol in town. After formulating my plan, I change into running shorts and a fresh shirt before walking back out the door.

Here’s hoping everything works out the way I planned. My happiness depends on it.

---