Page 84 of Tell Me Again

It’s suddenly there and sharp and degrading—my dad’s voice in my head. Yelling. Cursing. Angry and intense.

It broke me before. It scared me enough that I shut myself away, rejected my feelings, lost my best friend. He made me loathe myself, hate myself, hide myself. I’d learned to pretend—pretend I was someone else, with feelings I didn’t have.

And my mom, she just stood back and watched it all.

“But?” Brenna asks, her voice still gentle and soft and understanding.

“But I-I can’t.” That’s all I can manage. Her hand is on mine again, and she takes away my phone and sets it down on the center console.

“Then don’t, Josh. Not now at least. Not until you’re ready, or until you want to tell them,” she repeats. “They are not entitled to know.”

“But the wedding?”

“We called it off. Mutually. For personal reasons. That’s all.”

It makes sense, and I nod. She’s right. She’s always right, I think.

“You can call her later—tomorrow, or whenever you’re ready—and you can tell her just that. And you don’t have to tell her any more than that. You don’t ever have to tell them.”

I nod again, and I glance back at my phone. The screen is black now, not even the time showing. Somehow, that makes it easier, not seeing my mom’s name there, reminding me.

“You’re—you’re right. I’ll... call her tomorrow,” I say, and when I look over at Brenna, she’s just smiling encouragingly. “And I’ll tell her it was mutual. And personal. And that’s it.”

“Good,” she says as she shifts back to settle in her seat. Her eyes lift up, and she leans forward a bit and looks out the windshield toward the horizon to the south. “You know, I think it might rain. Those clouds coming in look a little dark?”

It sounds like something so normal to talk about—the weather. Almost out of place now. But I suppose she’s trying to redirect the conversation, and that’s also probably the right thing to do.

I glance in the same direction she’s looking, and there are indeed some dark clouds moving in. Normally, I’d think it’s beautiful. However, given that I need the roads to stay clear so I can get back to White Hills, hopefully tomorrow, and rain could mean ice, which could mean uncertain road conditions, it just makes my stomach turn.

I shake my head. “Maybe rain, just a bit? But I haven’t heard anything about it being something to worry about. So, um, maybe it’s—it’s a quick-moving storm, and—”

Brenna’s hand settles on top of mine again, and I hadn’t even realized I started trembling. “Josh.”

I twist back to her, and she smiles at me—that same smile of hers that’s kind and gentle and understanding.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble getting back.” She pauses, and her expression turns sad as she goes from reassuring to uncertain. “I’m really sorry for making you do this. I, um... I hope it’s not... I don’t want to cause you guys any trouble or—”

“Bren, you’re not causing any trouble. Really.”

She arches her eyebrows at me with a skeptical look that’s also got a hint of something silly in it. “So you spent almost two hundred dollars on flowers earlier just because? You always had to have a pretty good reason when you’d buy me flowers.”

If she wasn’t grinning now, that comment might have hit very differently. But she’s clearly teasing me, and something about that feels much better and much more normal than all of our awkward apologies to each other in the last few hours. And it seems like she wants to be very sure that I know she’s joking, because she punches my arm lightly and then winks at me.

I manage a small smile, and I’m about to make some goofy comeback when the rain suddenly starts falling in large, heavy drops. We both grimace.

I put the car into drive. “Ready to go?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Coop

“Coop, in my office! Now!”

“Fuck.” I stop and close my eyes as I set down the coffee pot on the counter just inside the kitchen. “Chuck, can you take that pie to table three?”

“Sure, man.”

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