CHAPTER 39
LIFE REALIZATION #17: LIFE ALWAYS LOOKS BETTER IN THE MORNING
The next morning, Stealth, the man in charge of this trip, stood with a spatula hovered over a cast-iron skillet in the outdoor kitchen he’d created. “The pig’s a-flyin’. And coffee’s over there.” He pointed Grant and me to the metal container dispensing piping-hot life juice.
I cradled a cup of coffee in both my hands. I wasn’t sure when my memories had faded into sleep, but it wasn’t early. I shook my head, trying to loosen the remnants of the dream clinging to the inside of my skull like spiderwebs. My brother, tubes up his nose and, at one point, stuffed into his mouth, a plastic octopus trying to claim him.
In the light of day, my problems looked smaller, and my destructive thoughts faded ever so slightly.
“Did you sleep okay?” Grant asked me. “The red lines on your eyeballs suggest you didn’t.”
I nodded, touching my fingertips to the puffy skin under my eyes. I’d tried to hide them, but I hadn’t brought my eyedrops, and concealer shouldn’t be used on eyeballs.
My mouth opened, closed, opened again, then blew out a sigh. “I was too wired to sleep, and when I finally did, I had a nightmare.”
He rubbed my arm, but my whole body responded to the touch.
“You feel like the trip back? We can call it off, call a car.”
“You’d end your meticulously planned trip just for me, wouldn’t you?”
“You know I would.”
“How is everyone so chipper?” Deanna rubbed her eyes with one hand, massaged her hip with the other as she joined us. “I can barely move.” She pointed to our cups. “Where did you get that glorious substance?”
We pointed to the coffee, and when she turned, she ran straight into Stealth and the light-blue, moisture-wicking muscle shirt stretched across his admirable pecs.
“Well, aren’t you gorgeous?” Deanna turned back toward us, her face red, her mouth open in horror, like she couldn’t believe she’d said that.
She mumbled an apology and ran off in the opposite direction of the coffee.
The laugh helped bring me further back to life. I lived in the present, not the past. I was trying to, anyway.
Keep trying.
“She’s cute,” Stealth said. “She seeing anyone?”
Grant and I covertly exchanged elbow jabs. “I’m afraid my sister’s happily married.”
“Too bad. Well, I’ve gotta grab my crate of eggs. This place is about to swarm. Hope you all are hungry. My pumpkin french toast is to die for.” His spooky laugh faded.
“So we have to tell Deanna that Stealth has the hots for her,” I said when Stealth was out of range.
“Sure we should ruin a marriage?”
“Positive, I’d want to know if—”
My thoughts came to a screeching halt because Kellan walked over. I immediately started to shake.
“You guys with us all day today?” she asked.
I felt silly for wanting to avoid her, but she was like a walking grenade in my mind, and I was scared that if she said the wrong thing, I’d break again.
So I was thankful when Grant spoke. “I’m afraid not.” He stood. “We’ve got the second half of our ride back home, and we need to get an early start if we’re going to enjoy everything on the list.” He held his arm out to me. “If you’ll excuse us, Kellan, we need to grab a quick bite before we head out.”
When William and Deanna returned, Grant hurried us through breakfast, despite William wanting to savor the food and Deanna wanting to rest.
They didn’t understand his rush.
But I did.
He’d studied my face, and I knew he was registering my paleness, the deer-in-headlights gleam in my eyes. He watched my hands shake so badly I could barely eat. He made small talk to distract me. He pressed the side of his body into mine to steady me, to let me know he was there. And I saw it, all without words; his actions were clear.
Last night, staring at the top of the tent, I’d contemplated breaking things off with him, resigned to being alone with a past I couldn’t seem to let go of. Because just when I’d thought I was moving forward, a handful of drunken words had so easily pulled me back.
But as he herded William, Deanna, and me toward our bikes, even as they were midconversation, midbite, something clicked for me.
There was no way I was letting him go. I might be neurotic, but I wanted him, and I was going to keep him. I had to keep taking steps forward, no matter how small. Had Hannah said that, or was it in one of the books? Didn’t matter. Deep inside, I knew he was what I wanted. I just needed to figure out how to be what he needed.
As our group said our goodbyes, I thought about what I knew Hannah had said. I needed to let Brandon go. His illness and death had been the start of everything else.
I could do this.
I focused on the road, the wheels under me, and the wind on my face. As soon as I got home, I’d open Brandon’s box.