Page 26 of Sticking Around

“That’s not going to happen,” I push out, the seriousness and conviction in my tone startling Lanie—and myself. But Christ, it’s not going to happen. Can’t. While I continually tell myself that like it’s law, it’s what I worry about most—what keeps me up at night.

One soft palm settles on my cheek. “Brady. I’m just saying people do find a way to manage on their own. Trust me on this.”

As water pours down on me, something inside me bubbles over, spills from a well that has been filling up with no relief valve to release the excess pressure, and before I can stop myself, I begin, “I had an accident.” Her eyes narrow in on me as trauma from my past grips me like a tight belt around my chest and squeezes the air from my lungs. “I was just a stupid teen.” I laugh as some childhood learned response forces me to do so, and I’m about to change the subject—because what the fuck am I doing—but Melanie puts both arms around me and holds tight. Jesus, her support weakens me and strengthens me at the same time, so instead of joking around, I continue. “I was sixteen. New license. Stupid kid stuff down at the abandoned quarry.”

“You were hurt,” she states, her voice breaking slightly, and it’s that break and everything in those three words that lets me know she realizes it wasn’t just the accident that hurt me.

“I banged my head on the steering wheel and blacked out.”

She puts her hand on my chest, and my heart pounds against her soft palm. Her gaze says it all as she watches me carefully. She knows I’ve been hurt and I’m not telling the entire truth. Not being honest which is the only thing she’s ever asked of me. “Brady…it’s okay.”

Her soft understanding tone has me uttering, “My mom had a fall that day. She was taken to the hospital by neighbors who finally found her. Everyone had tried to get a hold of me, but I had wrapped my car around a tree and my buddy and I were knocked out cold. We stayed like that until some guy out walking his dog found us and called an ambulance.”

The hard quiver going through her, reverberates through me. “That’s horrifying. I can’t even imagine how frightened you must have been.” As she speaks, I shut my eyes as painful memories explode in my brain, flashing like bright lightning on a dark rainy night. “Your buddy…was he…okay? Nothing more than getting knocked out?”

“We both had concussions, but nothing broken.” As I speak, it’s strange. There’s a weird kind of relief inside me, the band around my chest, which has constantly constricted my lungs, has loosened a tiny bit.

“Thank God.” Her hands move gently over my back. “Your mom and the neighbors must have been worried sick when they couldn’t reach you.”

I swallow against a painful throat. “No…my mother.”

She presses a light kiss to my chest, right around the vicinity of my heart. “You said she had a fall.”

“Yeah, it was a bad one. She was hanging clothes on the line, and tumbled. We live near a rocky cliff.” A hard quiver grips me, and I shake. Melanie holds me tighter, her touch comforting. Honest to fuck, has anyone ever held me like this before? No, because I never would have allowed it. “I was supposed to be there for her.”

Melanie inches back slightly, her arms still around me. Strands of wet hair stick to her forehead, and I pick it up and move it. “You were sixteen.”

“Yeah.” So, she gets it. A cold shiver wracks my body, despite the hot water pouring over me. “I was sixteen and stupid and irresponsible when I was supposed to be watching my mother. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have been home. If something worse had happened to me…”

“No wait, Brady.” Her voice holds a measure of outrage that she seems to be trying to control as she shakes her head. “You were sixteen being sixteen, thinking with a sixteen-year-old brain.”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have been. I was supposed to hang the laundry. After Dad died…” I swallow as the words burn in my esophagus and lodge in the back of my throat.

“Brady, you could have killed yourself and what I’m hearing is that you were in trouble because your mother had a fall, and you weren’t there to help her.”

“I didn’t say that.” At least, I don’t think I did. But I could be wrong. Maybe no one caring about me that day hurt a little. Or a lot.

“You said it, just not in words.” She grips my shoulders and I stiffen. “You were sixteen. Parents are responsible for their children when they’re sixteen. Not vice versa.” Under her breath she adds, “At least, they should be.” I take in the frown on her forehead, the hurt and fury in her eyes and something tells me she’s talking from experience—and not the kind learned in textbooks. “Kids shouldn’t be responsible for their parents at that age and what I’m hearing, Brady, is you were in trouble for getting into a car accident and nearly killing yourself, because if you killed yourself, you wouldn’t be there for your mother.” I stare at her as her words bounce around inside my brain. “Do you have any idea how messed up that is?”

I come to my mother’s defense. “She’d used Dad’s life insurance for my hockey.” Fuck, where would I be without it. Back in Newfoundland, trying to make ends meet like the rest of them.

She blinks once, twice, and looks at me like that concussion might have done more damage than I’m letting on. As we stare at one another, the water cools my already chilled body. “Speaking of hot water…we’re running out.”

She backs up. “Yeah, we are.”

I turn around and shut off the tap before it’s icy cold. I reach out and grab the big towel on the hook.

“Sorry, I didn’t put one there for you. Didn’t know you’d be joining me.”

I shake out the towel and wrap it around my body, and pull her against me. “We can share. It’s big enough for the both of us.” She wiggles against me. “Lanie.”

“Yeah.”

We step from the shower, and I hold her tight. “Who didn’t keep their promises?

10

Melanie

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