Chapter Thirty
Brody
Despite her best attempts at longing glances and suggestive comments, I’d managed to dodge Abbey for most of the night.
Luck ran out around the same time the alcohol did, when everyone decided it was about time to be getting back to their respective hotel rooms.
It wasn’t lost on me that more than a few of them made their excuses to let Abbey and I “catch up” before they took off.
It wasn’t their fault. This was the way it had always been. As long as I’ve known them, my name was always said in relation to Abbey.
Brody and Abbey. The one consistent pairing of the friend group for all those years.
While the rest of them tended to trade off partners on a quarterly basis, Abbey and I had always sort of stuck together.
Because we got along, yeah. But mostly because it was easy. Low stress. Low drama. She made me laugh. I didn’t really know what more to ask for.
It had been the perfect first relationship, and the fact that it never ended on any dramatic cliffhanger didn’t hurt.
But tonight, Abbey seemed determined to remind me of just how good it had been.
We were standing outside the restaurant when everyone left—Tara included—but Abbey, persistent as ever, stayed firmly glued to my side.
I couldn’t be an ass and take off in the opposite direction, so I just sort of lingered beside her, listening to her make small talk.
We walked down the sidewalk, Abbey asking questions about hockey or making comments about how lucky I was to live in a city like this.
More than anything, I wanted to go home and go to bed with Maggie beside me, but I couldn’t. The next best thing would be escaping to Liam’s guest room, where I could sleep this whole night away and hopefully see Maggie in the morning.
But something about Abbey was so tinged with sadness that I couldn’t just leave her. She was tipsy on wine and lost in her feelings, and I couldn’t stomach letting her navigate the streets of Boston alone.
Besides, she was technically the oldest friend I had. And if I’d been in a better mood, it would’ve been nice to see her. Catch up a little.
“I have a hotel room nearby,” she said, looking up at me expectantly.
“I’ll walk you there,” I offered.
“Thanks,” she said, slipping her hand in mine.
As naturally as I could muster, I pulled it from her grasp, tucking it safely away in my pocket.
“What?” she laughed. “I’m not allowed to hold your hand anymore?”
“Not really. No.”
“I thought you’d be happy to see me after all this time.” Her face fell in defeat. “I’ve missed you, Brody. You never come home anymore.”
“I am happy to see you, Abbey,” I said gently.
“But you won’t hold my hand or kiss me. Even though that’s what we do.”
“What we did,” I told her. “Abbey, I’ve had a girlfriend for the last five years. I haven’t even seen you in six. We can’t just pick up right where we left off. Things change.”
“You didn’t,” she told me. “And I didn’t.”
There she went again, with that sad look in her eyes. Somehow, I didn’t think it was entirely about me.
“Don’t you remember our pact?” she said suddenly, stopping mid-sidewalk.
Traffic blurred past us, people passed by—a comfort making me feel a little less alone in the moment.
“Our pact?” I repeated slowly, while she looked at me expectantly. “What do you—”
Shit, I thought, when it finally clicked.
That joke we had made when we were sixteen. If neither of us were married by thirty, we’d just marry each other.
“Abbey, we were kids when we made that,” I told her. “That was back when we thought thirty was old as hell.”
“Doesn’t it feel like it sometimes?” she asked quietly, voice barely audible against the sound of traffic around us. “Like life is just passing by too quickly to catch up with?”
“Sometimes,” I admitted, thinking of how it felt like yesterday I was a fresh-faced rookie in the first year of his career and today I was at an age where people had started asking me about my retirement plans.
“It does for me,” she said, walking under a streetlamp. “It feels like everyone we know is married, with kids and houses and… I have—”
“A cat and an overdraft checking account?” I offered with a smirk.
She let out a laugh, breaking through the barrier of melancholy she’d cloaked herself in.
“Low blow, Callahan.” She punched my shoulder lightly. “But glad to see you still know me. That’s a comfort.”
It was, I realized. A comfort. To have someone who had known you for that long. Who had seen you in every phase of life and had stayed through them all.
“I know what you mean, though.” I thought of Liam and Cassie.
And all my old friends who had started to settle down and start real life.
It was hard not to feel left behind in comparison.
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, too.
It seems like everyone else is hitting all these milestones and I’m struggling to catch up. ”
“Tara told me what happened,” Abbey said. “With your ex.”
“Don’t call her that,” I said, flinching.
“Why?”
“Just feels wrong.”
Abbey shrugged. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I never would’ve done that to you.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. We just meandered the streets of Boston in a comfortable silence. I didn’t have to try to figure out what she was thinking or worry about how she was feeling.
It was nice. Almost as if I could turn my brain off for a little while in the companionship of a friend.
When we reached the lobby of her hotel, I was almost sad that the night had come to an end. Sad to have to go back to Liam’s guest room and face the reality of my situation.
Sad that nothing had worked out the way I’d planned.
“Goodnight,” I told her. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot.”
“No problem.” She shrugged. “I needed to get away for a little bit, anyway.”
I nodded, understanding.
I wondered what my life would’ve been like if I stayed back in Michigan instead of coming here. I probably would’ve gotten a job where my dad worked.
And if I were being honest, I probably would’ve been married to Abbey now.
As if reading my thoughts, she started to speak, a little uneasily.
“I know the pact was a joke,” she admitted softly. “But I always thought you and I would sort of find our way back to each other. Didn’t you?”
I thought about it.
Back then, I didn’t know what I had thought about the future. I remember thinking Abbey was as good a person as any.
“I guess I did.”
“We’re friends still. Right, Brody?” she asked, hopefully.
“We’ll always be friends. You know that.”
“Then can I ask you something?”
I nodded.
“Will you come hang out with me for a little while? Because I really don’t want to be alone right now.”
I don’t know if it was because I was feeling as empty as she was, or if the thought of going back to a house that wasn’t home felt as uncomfortable as any other option I had, but when she stared up at me waiting for an answer, all I did was shrug and say, “Sure.”