Page 43 of The Breaking Point

“Oh my God, Mom—”

“It was so cute. I could always tell when you wanted to get Brady’s attention. You’d wear your cutest outfit and do your hair and makeup, but poor Brady didn’t know what to do with you. I was worried, at first, but I quickly realized that Brady never saw you like that.”

Her gaze narrowed. “At least, not until recently.”

I looked away. “You don’t have to worry about us. We’re just friends like I said.”

“You would tell me if that changed, wouldn’t you?”

I didn’t answer because I didn’t know. Or because I knew Mom would never be okay with us being in a relationship.

Is she still looking for a reason to get rid of him? Now, I can’t help but wonder.

“Ben always made fun of me whenever I tried to flirt with Brady,” I said.

“I think your brother didn’t know what to do with you, seeing you like that. He was very protective of you. I know he still would be if he were here.”

Would Ben tell me that Brady wasn’t the guy for me, even now? I didn’t know. I liked to think Ben would’ve been more pragmatic than our parents, but maybe not. Maybe he would’ve told me to stay away from Brady.

Mom patted my leg. “Let’s head home. I’m getting cold.”

On the ride back, I couldn’t help but realize that we’d talked about Brady as much as we’d talked about Ben on Ben’s remembrance day. It only drove home the point that Ben’s life had been cut short. All there was to talk about were memories. No discussion of what Ben would do after he graduated fromcollege, or about his career, or whether the latest girl was the one he’d marry.

But with Brady, there were endless possibilities ahead for him. He was still alive, getting older, and making choices—good or bad.

Hey, I’m sorry about the other night,Brady texted after I’d gotten home that evening.

It’s fine,I replied.

I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. Sorry.

Now, I didn’t know how to feel. Did he regret trying to kiss me in general? Or just that he’d been drunk?

I was dying to ask, but I was too chicken to do it. Instead, I just told him that maybe we should meet in person soon to talk things over.

Brady called me a few seconds later. “I can’t meet for a bit,” he said by way of greeting.

“It doesn’t have to be right this second.”

“No, I mean, I’m going to Vegas.” Then he sighed. “Shit, I didn’t call you just to tell you this. I wanted to say that I know what day it is. I’m sure you have more important things right now.”

My initial hurt at his texts abated. Brady was one of the few people who’d acknowledged Ben’s death today. Even extended family tended to shy away from mentioning Ben. It drove me crazy, while Mom and Dad said that everyone meant well. They just didn’t know what to say.

“Thank you,” I said quietly. Now I wondered if I was going to, in fact, cry today. “I miss him a lot.”

“I know you do.”

I told him about how Mom and I went to see Ben’s grave and then had ice cream. I tried to start a conversation about Ben and any memories Brady might have, but Brady changed the subject quickly.

“I do want to see you,” he said, “but I’m going to Vegas to see my mom. I told you that she’s sick.”

“You said she’s dying.”

He sighed. “Did I? Fuck. I forgot. She’s in the ICU, and shit’s not looking good.”

“I’m so sorry.” And I meant it.

“You know, out of everyone who’s said that to me, you’re probably the one person who I believe means it.” He let out a harsh laugh. “I’m expecting a call from my mom’s doctor, so I have to go. But I’ll text you when I get back in town.”

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