Page 49 of Legally Ours

This was one of the few places that Brandon came to find peace, almost daily. Despite his tendency to be slightly impulsive, the need for stability was something we had in common. We were both creatures of habit, with set routines that just happened to work well together––except when they didn't. Then things tended to blow up.

Besides helping him maintain a drool-worthy body, Brandon's daily running habit was also indicative of something else: that when he made a decision, it was a decision he made every day, not just once.

I shook my head, feeling incredibly stupid. What had I been thinking? He wasn't the kind of man who needed an apology dinner, gifted like a bouquet of flowers that would wilt. Nor was he the kind of person who wanted to be manipulated into makeup sex, even if by accident. Brandon needed permanence. Safety. Things he'd never really had. He needed to know that when I and anyone else said they loved him, we meant it, not just right then, but always.

I pulled my feet up onto the bench and pressed my knees into my chest. Dad was right––I'd been content to let him learn how to speak my language, never once thinking how to talk to him, to let him know just how much he truly meant to me. Brandon had rescued my heart from a place where I thought it might be permanently broken. Actually, it was more than that, I realized. He had taught me how to love in the first place.

I thought back to the spring, after I'd broken up with him the first time. I'd thought we were broken irreparably after I discovered that Brandon was both married and going behind my back to deal with Victor Messina. But instead of sitting around waiting for me to forgive him, Brandon had taken action. Letters, every day. About his childhood. About growing up with Ray and Susan. Letters about the kind of person he was and the person he wanted to be for me. And, of course, so many, many words about why and how he loved me.

I want you, I'd always said.

So he gave me him.

They were gestures that hadn't worked at first, but had played a major part in breaking down my defenses. Because in the end, I'd believed him. In the end, I'd come to realize that I couldn't be without him.

Every letter always ended the same:

Do you love me yet, Red?

I love you. Always.

B

Always. My fingers toyed with the bracelet on my wrist, the one with the engraving from Yeats on it. One man saw the pilgrim soul in you. Well, I saw the pilgrim soul in him too. I just needed to show him how.

Across the park, the echoes of voices laughing filtered through the night air. I watched a group of teenage boys loping through the still-lit baseball field in an impromptu game. One of them, a lanky blond kid, was clearly the star of the group––his athletic ability surpassed the rest, and his friends clearly worshipped him.

The ball hit the kid's bat with a sudden crack through the air. I watched it sail over the field. By the time it had sailed over the fence, I had a new plan in order to show Brandon just what I mean by love too.

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