Page 66 of Courageous Hearts

“Of course I am,” I reply a little hotly. “It’s a big deal. Bo is… Shit, they’re amazing, Grant. They deserve someone who’s going to treat them with respect. Someone who can see how brave they are for putting themself out there. How remarkable. Someone who appreciates them for who they are. They deserve more than some flippant, passing affection.”

Grant’s smile widens, his first genuine one since he and Sophia arrived. “Oh wow.”

“What?” I ask again, a little on guard.

“Can I ask you something?” Grant says, twisting toward me. “And I don’t mean this as a dig. I’m genuinely curious.”

“O-kay,” I respond slowly.

“Before, in your relationships, why did it never work out? Why were you never willing to put in the effort?”

I puff out a breath, almost afraid to tell Grant the truth. We have so few secrets between us, but this is one thing I’ve never confided to my twin. Knowing his tendency toward the logical—toward rationality and facts and figures—I always suspected he’d think me foolish.

“Don’t laugh,” I say.

Grant’s expression turns serious. “I promise.”

I nod, looking off toward the rose bush by the back fence. Our dad planted it for our mom after she saw it in a nursery catalogue. She loved the unusual color of peach surrounded by cream. Said it reminded her of Dad, with his russet-colored hair and light complexion. Our father earned a couple dozen cuts in his fingers while planting that thorny bush, but he never once complained, and when it was done, he had the biggest smile on his face, looking at our mom instead of the beautiful roses.

“I was waiting for my soulmate,” I admit softly.

“You believe in that?” Grant asks, no derision in his tone. Only curiosity.

“Yes,” I say with a little more force, glancing at my brother and seeing my own face reflected back at me. “I do. And I always felt like when I found it, I’d know. I’d know, and that’d be it. It’d be like a jolt. Like electricity. Like…”

I inhale.

Like a stomp—a song—inside my chest.

I rub over my sternum.

“You said ‘was,’” Grant notes softly. I look back his way, and his eyes are twinkling. “You said you were waiting for your soulmate. Past tense. All of that was past tense.”

I open my mouth, not uttering a word. Wondering if I can even deny it.

“Boys,” our mom calls softly, sticking her head outside the door. “Brownies are ready. I think we could all use some.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, instead heading back into the house, and Grant stands up, sending the chair kicking back slightly.

“Come on,” he says, offering me a hand.

I let him pull me to my feet, and for a moment, we simply stand there, looking at one another.

“I’m sorry,” Grant says just as the sky starts to spit. “For thinking you weren’t taking your life seriously. For saying, on more than one occasion, that you needed to grow up.” He rubs his hand over his face, chagrined. “For not asking why and just assuming you weren’t ready for commitment.”

“I’ve been ready for my person for a very long time,” I admit, the truth of it hitting me hard.

I want what my parents had. That sort of familiarity. The easy affection they shared and taking care of one another in little ways—like planting a rose bush, sharing a dance in the living room, cooking together—because you know there’s nothing better than making the love of your life smile.

“It was just never right,” I add.

Grant nods, like he finally understands.

“For the record,” I say, “you suck at apologies.”

Grant laughs from deep within his belly. “Yeah, Sophia says I’m too blunt about it.”

“She’s absolutely right,” I agree, slapping his shoulder as the rain starts to come down in solid drops. “Come on. They’re waiting.”

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