Chapter 4
Braden knew how to show a girl a good time.
After dinner, ending with a piece of tiramisu that we shared, followed by a quick group selfie with our busboy, Braden drove to the north side of town, a part of Dalton I wasn’t familiar with.
Soon, after driving over the large bridge that took us over rows of train tracks, he parked the car on the side of the road and, after getting out and opening my door, took me by the hand and led me down a path that took us to the banks of the Arkansas River.
The sun had just set but there was plenty of light in the sky for me to see everything.
Outside of town, Dalton—like Nopal—had seemed dry and dusty except for where farmers grew crops, pumping vast amounts of water on them through their huge contraptions that looked like giant lawn sprinklers, but here, especially as we got closer to the banks of the river, I was nearly breathless.
There were so many trees, so green, and the water wasn’t flowing lazily as it often did.
This evening, I could actually hear it as it rushed east where it would eventually unite with the Mississippi River somewhere in Arkansas—at least, that was what my grandpa had always told me.
Braden took my hand, pulling me out of my head and into the present. His hand was warm and gentle, much like the man himself. Back when we were in high school, I never would have dreamed of this moment, never would have imagined being with this man—but, when I let my brain relax, it felt right.
It was my heart that kept insisting that it wasn’t.
But where had that gotten me? My heart was a masochist apparently, coming back for more abuse from Zack over and over. It was so stupid.
This man leading me closer to the bank—he offered stability, peace, and steadiness.
With Braden, I suspected, there would be no surprises, no unexpected turmoil.
I knew he was faithful and loyal and, with the exception of him keeping Zack’s infidelity from me (which was, perhaps, Zack’s responsibility after all), I knew I could trust him and rely on him.
He would be good for me.
Squeezing his hand back, I willed my heart to love him.
That was the only thing that kept him and me from being perfect.
Feeling more like a brother to me, Braden had never ignited a consuming fire inside my soul like Zack had.
But maybe it was supposed to be that way.
Fire was destructive and damaging while the gentle warm breeze that was Braden would never harm me. That I knew in my soul.
So I threw out a figurative lifeline for the relationship I so wanted to nurture. “It’s so beautiful here,” I said, taking in a deep breath of fresh, cool, sweet air.
“Yeah. This is one of my favorite places. I wanted to share it with you.”
Smiling, I looked back at the moving water, absorbing the sound of it as it continued down its path.
As much as I loved the music our band made, there was something to be said about the sounds of nature—and, as I opened myself up to it, I could hear how the breeze stirred the trees.
Although the highway wasn’t too far from where we stood, I wasn’t able to hear the sounds of vehicles whizzing past to wherever they had to go.
Braden’s grip tightened over my hand, but he refrained from holding it too tightly.
And, when he spoke again, I could barely hear his voice.
“When Zack and me were younger, his mom would have him stay at his grandma and grandpa’s during summer break when she was working—and they’d have him help with their garden and stuff.
So I’d ride my bike down here a lot and hang out by myself. ”
Ah…a little glimpse into his past.
“I got pretty good at skipping rocks.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said, letting go of my hand and bending over, sorting through some of the pebbles in the dirt behind us.
“The trick is finding the flattest rock you can.” Finally, he held one that suited his needs, a smooth grayish and mostly flat stone.
“Then it’s in the way you cup it up against your index finger.
You have to push it just like so when you release it,” he said, turning and doing just that, letting his motions finish the sentence.
But the rock didn’t skip at all.
We both started laughing. “Of course,” he continued, “it works better after spring runoff is over.”
Getting closer to the bank again, I bent down on my haunches, motivated by his words, touching the very edge of the water.
It was still cold, even after traveling all that way from the Rocky Mountains near the center of the state.
My mouth practically gaped in awe as I realized this was all melted snow.
Braden inspired that kind of wonder in me.
I knew he would be good for me.
When he squatted next to me, I felt a little silly and flicked some water, aiming toward his face. His eyes widened as his mouth spread into a big grin—and then he cupped my cheek, bringing my face closer to his before kissing me.
Yes, we could make this work. My scarred psyche knew Braden was my best chance for a good life…and I’d be a fucking fool not to take it.
Later that night, I lay in his arms in his bed, but I couldn’t sleep. Even though he’d brought me to orgasm twice so that my body felt fully relaxed, my brain wouldn’t shut off.
I’d had an awkward encounter with his dad, but his mother had already gone to bed with a migraine. Braden’s father looked almost exactly like him—just with shorter, grayer hair and a thicker waist.
But he seemed nice enough.
One of his sisters was out with her friends, the other attending college in Dalton.
And I followed him upstairs to his bedroom.
Before making love, we talked for a long time as I explored his space, discovering that he was a lover of books like I had always been.
He had a bookshelf so eclectic it could have been the fiction section of a library—everything from old westerns to gritty mysteries and more recent thrillers with names I recognized, like David Baldacci.
He admitted to not having read them all, but the older books were ones he’d taken from his grandparents.
When his grandpa had been put in a nursing home when Braden was in the eighth grade, his grandmother had asked if he wanted them.
“He had Alzheimer’s, so he’d stopped reading like he used to, and grandma wanted me to have them.
” As a younger boy, he’d always picked a book to read, much like checking one out at the library, bringing it back to exchange it the next time he was there.
“I still need to tackle the westerns. Those were my grandpa’s favorites.”
“You should bring some of them on tour. We always have so much downtime.”
“I can’t read on the bus. It gives me motion sickness,” he explained.
“But in the hotels—”
“I wanted to spend time with you.”
Oh. Why couldn’t I love this man the way he deserved to be loved? He was an absolute dream, saying all the right things—and I knew he wasn’t just saying those words to get into my pants. We’d already agreed to move forward…so I knew what he was saying was the truth.
And now, as I lay in his twin bed, a little small for the two of us, but intimate as he’d said before falling asleep, I contemplated our future.
God, I’d been so blind to Braden all these years, always picturing him as Zack’s sidekick—when, actually, that title was probably better bestowed to me.
Just because Braden had always been quieter and seemed more docile, hadn’t had an ego that had needed attention all the time didn’t mean he wasn’t a fully realized person.
There was so much more to him—and I found myself wanting to get to know him better. I felt like that was a step in the right direction.
As I finally drifted off to sleep, it was to a mantra I kept repeating silently in my head: Braden’s a good guy and I’m the luckiest girl. I will learn to love him.
He deserved that and so much more.
By early Saturday afternoon, I began having doubts about our “intervention birthday dinner” with Zack. His mother had texted Braden and me that morning to make sure we were still on—and we both assured her we were. Even Cy planned to be there.
Although I now had money for gas and had planned to drive to Dalton, Braden insisted upon taking me. We hadn’t yet spent the night at my house, especially because I’d seen signs of my mother’s new boyfriend in the kitchen the morning when Braden brought me home after our date.
But I’d spent every evening since with Braden.
He told me he’d put most of the money we’d gotten from the label into a CD, and I questioned it, until he explained he meant a Certificate of Deposit—and he reserved just enough for food, gas, and his cell phone bill.
I hadn’t even thought of anything like that. I’d just put it in a checking account so I could use my debit card whenever I needed to. Six-thousand dollars wouldn’t last long—but I was glad we hadn’t asked for more. Once again, I had that gnawing feeling that we’d be forever indebted to the label.
When the doorbell rang, I told my mom goodbye. Once again, she was getting ready for her own date, so I wouldn’t invite Braden to our house. Although his twin bed was overly snug, we made it work. The way he held me every night cradled against his chest made me feel warm and loved.
Even though much of the time my thoughts during those silent times drifted to Zack.
Braden looked cute as always, his light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and he smelled like the cologne I was starting to associate with him, something with a heavy sandalwood scent, earthy and woodsy.
The air breezing through the door was warm, reassuring me that cold days were finally behind us.
After giving him a quick peck on the cheek, I asked, “Ready?”
“Not really,” he replied, echoing the heaviness in my heart, “but it needs to be done.”