Page 7 of Tell Me Again

Brenna senses something, but she quickly covers whatever she’s thinking with a smile, and she rubs her hand back up my arm as though she knows just how rattled I am.

“Good! Ready to go then?”

“Yeah, I—”

Coop exits the kitchen again, almost deliberately not looking in my direction. Which I guess I can’t blame him for. He’s holding a coffee pot in one hand and balancing several plates of food on a large tray in the other. And he smiles brightly as he stops at one of the tables to top off a man’s coffee.

“Josh?”

“Sorry, babe, yeah. Let’s go.”

I stuff my wallet in the back pocket of my jeans, and then Brenna slips her hand into mine and squeezes gently. She gives me another soft smile, but I see her eyes flicker across the room in Coop’s direction as we turn to go.

***

The drive across town to her parents’ house is quiet, but not really uncomfortable. At least, not entirely. She’s driving, which is good. I don’t think I’m in any shape to drive, and I think she can tell. Besides, we’re running a little late, and she’s always thought of speed limits as more of a suggestion than a law.

That’s probably her only flaw.

I reach over and set my hand on her thigh, and she smiles at me.

“Are you okay? You still seem really tense,” she says. There’s concern in her voice, and her eyes do this little thing they always do when she’s worried, narrowing slightly. She tries for another smile, however, and a little laugh. “My parents love you, you know. They’re going to be happy to see you. They always are.”

I can’t tell what she’s thinking right now, and I have no idea whether she knows that I’m not at all worried about seeing her parents again, whether she’s just trying to break the tension or get me to talk. And I find myself weighing my options, wondering how much this lie will cost me. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the headrest.

“I know, babe. It’s not that.”

Her hand settles on top of mine. “I know,” she says.

Of course she knows.

The knot in my stomach that’s been there since last night tightens more. It’s tension mixed with guilt. That and the tug of all my memories, trying to pull me back ten years in the past.

“He was my best friend,” I say. I’m not sure if I really mean to, but more words come anyway—words that my mind carefully edits before they leave my lips. “The server at the restaurant, I mean. His name’s Coop. We grew up together in Garrington. I haven’t seen him since around the time my parents sold our house and moved us to Omaha when dad got that job at Union Pacific.”

I leave out lots of important things. Like how close we’d really been. How we’d spent nearly every single day together since kindergarten. How he’d taught me to ride a bike in the second grade since my parents had never cared to, and how I’d helped him through Mr. Shelton’s sixth-grade science class. How we’d camped together in a pillow fort in his living room nearly every weekend in the summers until we were probably twelve, spent hours playing at the playground and reading comic books in his mom’s classroom after school, gotten lost exploring the trails along the river south of town when the weather was nice, and hidden from the cold at the public library when it wasn’t. How we’d become inseparable.

And I definitely leave out how I’d secretly fallen in love with him. How I’d asked him to kiss me that afternoon. And how my dad had completely lost it when he’d caught us, how he’d kicked Coop out of the house, forbidden me from seeing him again. And then... the lies that had started it all—how I’d told my dad the kiss had been Coop’s idea. Told him I’d hated it. Promised him I wasn’t in any way attracted to Coop or to other boys.

“That’s fuckin’ right. Or I’d have to beat that shit right outta you. Go back up to your room. You’re fuckin’ grounded for the rest of the month. And if I see his face around here again—”

I also leave out the absolute worst part—how I’d treated Coop in the days and weeks after. How I’d started living those lies as though they were truths. How I’d abandoned my best friend.

“You didn’t keep in touch?” she asks quietly.

I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. “No, um...”

Brenna’s my safe place. She knows me, and she knows my parents. Well, I mean, my mom’s... fine, really. But Brenna knows my dad. She knows him how he is now, and then she knows what I’ve told her about how he used to be—a violent alcoholic. So I can probably go easy on the lying as long as I still... carefully edit.

“My dad sorta decided I shouldn’t talk to him anymore. Especially, um, after we moved. He wanted me to cut all ties. I never even got the chance to tell Coop why.”

God, that hurts to say out loud.

The car slows, and I open my eyes again as Brenna pulls off the road onto the dirt shoulder. She shifts the car into park and then reaches over and wraps her arms around me. I don’t deserve this hug. I don’t deserve her. But I let it comfort me, and I bury my head into her shoulder and hug her back.

“I’m sorry, Josh,” she murmurs in my ear, and she kisses my cheek and rubs my back.

I deserve none of this.

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