Page 89 of Hard To Leave

As far as Tanner knew, Brogan was just an old friend passing through town.

“How come you never mentioned him before?”

I forgot how inquisitive he could be. “We lost touch over the years.”

Tanner stared at me from underneath his baseball cap. “Is he why Jack left yesterday?”

I leaned against the door and took a few calming breaths.

Brogan walked up and tapped on my window. “Come on,” I said, thankful for the disruption and opened my door. “Let’s go eat some ice-cream cake.”

We stepped into the living room, and Tanner kicked off his dirty cleats, sending dirt flying all over my hardwood floor. He then pulled his dirty white socks off, and trudged to the bathroom to clean up.

I shook my head and picked up the dirty socks and shoes and put them in the laundry room and got a towel to wipe up the mess.

I took in a slow breath and wiped my clammy hands down the front of my shorts before rushing into the kitchen.

I rummaged through the freezer and pulled the ice-cream cake out and set it on the counter. Brogan stopped in the middle of the room, his tall frame looking completely out of place in my modest cottage. He made it seem smaller than it actually was.

Having him here made me nervous.

He passed by me and stood in the small corner of the kitchen, admiring all of Tanner’s artwork hanging on the fridge door.

Brogan stared at the picture that Tanner drew of Yankees stadium. He looked curious as he pointed to the stick figures wearing blue and white pinstriped uniforms. “Is he a Yankees fan?”

“He is,” I said, while carefully taking the lid off the cake so it could thaw out. The Yankees were what bonded Tanner and Jack together. Brogan, however, was an Atlanta Braves fan—always has been and always will be.

“Hmm,” was all he said and walked over to the slider to look in the backyard. He placed his hands on his hips as his gaze swept across the yard. It wasn’t much, but it was all that we needed. I’m sure it was nothing compared to the mansion he lived in now. It was a harsh reminder of how different our worlds were.

Brogan has come a long way from eating buttered noodles out of the studio apartment we shared in Myrtle Beach.

He turned and stared at me from across my small kitchen. His fingers fidgeted with the watch around his wrist. “It looks like you guys are happy here.”

“We are. I know it’s not much, but...” I started to offer an apology, but he cut me off.

“Hey. It’s perfect. I may have a bigger house and more money, but I’m still the guy you used to live with in that cramped, off-campus apartment.” His smile softened, and I sighed with relief. He had no idea how much I needed to hear that.

“Mom!” Tanner called from the hallway. “Is dessert ready yet?”

I opened up the cupboard to pull out three glasses from the cabinet. “Almost. Why don’t you come here, so we can chat with our guest?”

Brogan and I shared a glance. I was suddenly having a hard time breathing. Tanner rounded the corner and took a seat at the kitchen table. I set his glass of chocolate milk in front of him while the dog came running into the room.

“Well, hello there,” Brogan said while scratching the side of Smuckers’ head. The dog was sniffing his legs like he had a T-bone steak hidden in his pocket.

“I’m sorry. I’ll put the little mooch outside.”

“He’s fine.” Brogan smiled with his right dimple making an appearance. “I have a black lab at home. He probably smells Hank on me.”

Tanner looked up from his milk. “You have a dog named Hank?”

Brogan laughed. “Yeah, after my Idol, Hank Williams, Junior.”

Tanner twisted his face. “Never heard of him.”

“He’s a country singer,” Brogan answered easily like that was the only explanation it needed.

“I don’t listen to country.” The words slid out of Tanner’s mouth as I tried not to laugh.

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