“Yeah. I’m an only child, but I grew up living’ next door to Logan and Sean all my life. We were the Three Musketeers.”
“Sean is Logan’s brother, right? The one who passed away?”
He nods, clasping his hands before him cautiously. He’s just sitting there, not resisting or backing away from my interrogation. I lean into the table a little. “How did he pass away?”
“Accident,” he answers.
“What kind of accident?”
“Motorcycle crash.” Whoa. A chill shoots down my back and I cringe.
In a lower tone, I ask, “How long ago?”
“Two years ago,” he responds, just as low.
I look up at him. I know how it feels to lose someone you love dearly, especially a sibling. “Am I asking too many questions?”
Bryson nods.
“I’m sorry.” Great job, Jenna. You’re finally around people and you just don’t know how to keep quiet.
“It’s okay. Can I ask you a question now?”
Well dammit. I guess I really don’t have a choice. I nod for him to go on.
“Why are you so curious about Logan?”
Whoosh. That felt like a blow to my lungs. I lean back in my chair. “I’m not.”
He doesn’t seem so convinced. “Yeah, you are. All these questions, they’re mostly about Logan.”
I shake my head. “No. They were about both of you.”
Bryson presses his hands flat on the table, pushing himself up to stand from the chair, and grabs the now empty mug. “No worries. I gotta go for my run. It was nice chattin’ with ya.” He places the cup in the sink and heads out the back door.
That was just awkward. What the hell is wrong with me? I need to learn how to control my impulses. A buzzing noise catches my attention. My phone is vibrating. I pick it up and look at the screen: DAD. He never calls me this early. I swipe the screen and hurriedly answer the call.
“Hello?”
A deep sigh comes through the earpiece. “Sweetheart, I’ve been calling you.”
“You have? I don’t have any missed calls.”
“Yes. I—” Shit. He’s breaking up. I look at the phone. Dammit. I only have one bar.
“Dad, hold on. I’m not getting any reception in here. Let me step outside.” Now out on the deck, I check my bars again. All five are active. “Dad?”
“Yes. Where are you?” He sounds clearer, worried.
I relax my shoulders. “I’m with Charlie. I’m fine, Dad. I just needed to get away.”
“You can’t do that, Jenna. You know better.” Here we go again. The lecture. I see a bench swing up ahead, hanging from one of the trees. I head for it.
“I’m twenty-one. I can come and go as I please.”
“Not in your condition,” he argues.
My condition? I freeze. I hate it when he and Mom make it sound like that. “What did Mom tell you?” Silence. I push my feet forward until I reach the bench. I take a seat and push back off the ground, leaning into the sway as I swing forward and back. “What did she tell you?” I ask again.
“She said the two of you had an argument and that you said a few hurtful things, which caused her to retaliate.”
Wow. She manages to bullshit her way through everything, all the time. I laugh. “And you believe her?”
My father lowers his tone. “Jenna. Come home. We can talk about this in person.”
“No.” I can’t believe this. He believes her. Short, quick breaths start to take over. Calm down, Jenna. Breathe easy. “You always take her side. Always. Why?”
“You know that’s not true. I’m trying to help both of you.”
“Because of my condition. Is that right?”
“Jenna.” He breathes heavily. “I didn’t mean it that way. You know I love you.”
I do. My father has always been there for me. Even with the differences between my mother and me, he’s tried not to take sides. But lately she’s managed to win him over. I inhale and exhale a shaky breath. “I know.”
“Good. Listen, I know you’re in good hands because you’re with Charlie. Take as long as you need. Just text me to let know you’re okay. Okay?”
I nod before realizing he can’t see me. “Yeah. Okay.”
“And you know what?”
“What?”
“How about when you get back we set a date for just the two of us?”
A comforting warmth floods through me. We haven’t had a day like that in forever. After Brooke’s death, he buried himself in work. I think it was the only way he knew how to deal with losing a daughter. I don’t blame him; I buried myself away from the world the day she was taken from us. “I’d love that.” I choke over the words.
“Good. I love you, sweetheart. Be safe, okay?”
“Okay. Love you too, Dad.”
We end our call. I sit back, lift my feet onto the bench, and admire the beauty of the early morning as I swing alone.
Seriously? It’s six in the morning. I don’t even get up this early for work, let alone on a fucking Saturday. This sucks balls. I grumble out of bed, head for the kitchen, and grab a bottle of water. I almost choke on it. I’m never drinking again. Never. The fuck. Again. My body can’t handle hangovers as well as it did in my early twenties. I toss the empty bottle of water, completely missing the overloaded bin filled with empty beer bottles. Oh well. I need more water. Opening the fridge again, I twist the cap off the second bottle and guzzle it down.
After Jenna left me on the dock last night, I pretty much chugged the rest of the beers, hung out for a bit, then called it quits. Well, I called it quits after Santino forced me to take a few shots with him. Then he called me a pussy for calling it a night so early. But I was tired as hell, and tonight will be the party of all parties. Last night was just a warm-up.
Which reminds me. Jenna was acting kind of weird last night. Weirder than usual. I don’t even know how to get through to her. She must be strangely uninterested in me—or a lesbian. For my ego’s sake, I hope it’s the latter.
The back screen door squeaks as it’s hurled open and closed. Bryson walks in from the deck with his headphones plugged into his ears, sweating and panting. I’m sure he’s coming back from his early run. He’s committed to that shit. Every morning, seven days a week. He never misses a morning. Don’t get me wrong, I work out, but it’s always in the evening. Like I said before, this early morning shit is not my thing.