Page 37 of Mr. Broody

I don’t tell him that I hope so too. Being back around him is comforting. I feel a little more like myself than I did this morning. How could I have traveled the world all these years searching for something and never felt as found as I do right now?

Henry shoves his hands in his pockets and sighs. “Can I explain about that night?”

I stop us at the corner, seeing his condo across the street to the right. I blindly followed him right where he wanted me to end up. I should be mad, but I’m not. After all, the bedroom is the only place we continued our relationship after college until three years ago.

“Did you purposely lead me here?” I point at the building that has a new Nest sign written in Sharpie displayed prominently on the security door.

He bites his bottom lip. “I just want to clear the air. I should’ve done it that night, but… well, I don’t want to do it walking around with strangers. I think it will always be the Grand Canyon between us until we cross it.”

I should flag down a cab or call an Uber. Get the hell out of here. The last place I should be is somewhere alone with him. In his space, near his bed, with no distractions. But I really am my own worst enemy sometimes because the light turns, the walk sign appears, and instead of turning in the opposite direction, I cross the street toward his place.

Someone needs to save me from myself.

Sixteen

Jade

Three years ago…

I got the call from my mom that my grandma had died in her sleep, and I hopped on a plane that day.

I knew that me returning home meant I would probably see Henry again. Home and Henry completed a puzzle—I could never have one without the other. As with the few other times I’d returned home, I was eager to feel his arms around me and lose myself in the distraction he was sure to give me.

The two times prior that I had returned home, I had run into Henry. Although he had gotten traded to Colorado a few years after he was drafted to Chicago, Chicago was his hometown. One thing inevitably led to another, and we ended up in bed together. It always made it harder to get on the plane the next morning, but nothing had changed with us. We were still on separate journeys, and our paths rarely crossed.

Reed had picked me up from the airport with an arguing Waylon and Owen in the back seat. He hugged me at the trunk after putting my luggage inside. “I’m sorry, Jade.”

Tears pricked my eyes, and no matter how hard I had tried to stop crying over the loss of my grandmother, I’d been walking around with red-rimmed eyes through both airports.

“Let’s get you home.” He walked me to the side of the car and opened the passenger door for me.

“I saved your ass,” Waylon argued.

“I made the winning goal,” Owen fired back.

“Hi, boys,” I said, but they ignored me.

“Your goal wouldn’t have mattered if I hadn’t stopped three of their goals in the second.”

Reed slid into the driver’s seat. “Boys, cut it out. Say hello to your sister.”

I always laughed at his dad voice. It was like as soon as the boys were born, so was that authoritative voice he used with them. I think I was easier to parent than the twins.

“Hey, Jade,” Waylon said.

“Took Grandma’s death to get you to come home, huh?” Owen said, and Reed gave him a stern look in the rearview mirror.

Owen always gave me shit when I came home for visits, but I could see that to him, I was his big sister who chose to live somewhere other than near him. So I never fought back.

For two days, I helped Mom with flower orders, helped her pick what my grandma was to wear, and dealt with the plans for the gathering after we buried her. It all made me not want to have a big thing when I died. Why should the people grieving for me have to deal with planning so much?

I dressed in a black dress that my grandma would have hated. My grandma was vibrant, quick-witted, and didn’t care what anyone thought. She probably would have preferred me wearing what I wanted.

My dad wasn’t coming into town from Los Angeles. No, he told me he had a big case and that my grandma didn’t like him anyway. But it hurt that he didn’t want to be there for me.

“I can’t wait to see you. Spend some time with you. How long will you be in the States?” he asked.

I’d just finished a job for a high-end hotel in Bora Bora and wasn’t sure where I was going next. A hotel brand had reached out to me to go around the US and take pictures of what they considered their more exclusive hotels, but the US still felt way too close to Chicago. Being off US soil somehow made it more bearable to be away from Henry.

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