Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
brADEN
The fluorescent lights of the Marathon community center hummed, a flat sound that vibrated the very air.
I sat wedged between my mother and Harper, the fabric of my polo shirt sticking to my back in the humid, crowded room.
On stage, a local county commissioner droned on about civic duty and the quiet heroism of first responders.
I latched onto his boring words like a lifeline, using them to drown out the noise in my own head.
The whole place smelled of stale coffee, cheap air freshener, and the collective perfume of proud mothers.
It was the scent of a milestone, of achievement.
But not for me. I glanced down the row. Mom was beaming, her eyes fixed on the stage, a wadded tissue clutched in her hand.
Harper had an arm around Chase’s shoulders, her smile so wide and genuine it looked like it might crack her face.
And next to them, Eli kept nudging Jules, whispering something that made her press her lips together to keep from laughing.
They were all present, fully in the moment. I forced my shoulders to relax, arranging my face into the mask of the proud brother. I wouldn't let my own wreckage cast a shadow on this. Not today.
I was here for Ben. That was the mission.
“And now,” the commissioner said, “the presentation of certificates.”
An excited ripple of applause went through the room as the commissioner was replaced by the dean of Ben’s college.
My mother straightened her back, her focus intensifying.
They read the names in alphabetical order.
With each one, a new graduate walked across the stage, shook a few hands, and accepted a rolled-up piece of paper representing months to years of grueling work, sleepless nights, and unwavering commitment.
I clapped for each of them, the motion mechanical.
Then, “Benjamin Coleridge” rang through the space.
The world sharpened as my brother stood up from the front row.
He wasn’t the Ben I grew up with—the one with a chip on his shoulder and fists always ready for a fight.
The wild card. The lost cause. The man walking toward the stage was different.
He moved with quiet confidence, his shoulders back, his stride steady.
He wore a dark-gray suit—an honest-to-God suit with a blue tie.
A fierce wave of pride surged in my chest. Ben had faced every one of his demons, wrestled them into submission, and built a new life for himself. He wasn’t cocky or triumphant as he shook the commissioner’s hand. He was something far more powerful. He was grounded and sure. He had done the work.
The applause swelled, my family’s whoops the loudest in the room. I was on my feet, clapping until my palms stung, whistling loud and sharp. I poured every ounce of energy I had into that noise. I couldn’t fix my own life, but I could damn well celebrate his.
Ben caught my eye from the stage and nodded. I gave him a thumbs-up, grinning until my jaw ached.
See? I’m fine. Everything’s fine.
The celebration was at Harper and Chase’s place, the quiet of the community center replaced by a warm, noisy mix of family life.
The moment we walked in, I went into host mode.
It was safer than standing still. I grabbed beers from the fridge and handed them out, making sure glasses were full, keeping my hands busy so they wouldn't shake.
The rich scent of roast chickens Harper pulled from the oven filled the air.
Ben stood in the center of the kitchen, still in his suit but with his tie yanked loose.
He was holding a beer and looking more at ease than I’d seen him in years.
A genuine, unforced smile lit up his eyes as our family swirled around him.
“I barely survived my clinicals with Dr. Lewis,” he said, shaking his head with a laugh. “The man’s a legend, but he quizzes you while you’re trying to intubate a dummy. It’s brutal.”
“I’m sure you did great,” Harper said, bumping his shoulder with hers as she passed him a plate piled high with food. “You earned this, Ben. Every single bit of it.”
“Damn right,” Eli added, raising his bottle. “To the newest Coleridge with a respectable profession. I was getting tired of carrying this family’s reputation all by myself.”
The joke landed perfectly, and laughter filled the kitchen. I chimed in right on cue. “Don’t get a fat head, Eli. Half the tourists think your job is just professional snorkeling.”
It got a laugh. Good. The Golden Boy was performing as expected.
Ben swept his gaze over us, his smile fading. “Thanks, guys. For all the support and pep talks. I mean it.”
“Oh, Benjamin,” Mom said, her voice shaky as she reached out to straighten his collar. “We’re just so proud. We always knew you had this in you.”
“It’s not totally official yet,” Ben reminded her gently. “I still have to pass the paramedic exam in two weeks. After that, it’s real.”
“You’ll pass with flying colors,” Chase said confidently, clapping him on the back. “There’s no doubt about it.”
I kept moving, dodging the pockets of quiet where my thoughts might catch up to me. I joked with Austin about his new boat engine. I complimented Iris on the appetizers. I was the life of the party, and it was exhausting.
Dinner was a joyful commotion. Harper and Chase’s dining room was almost too small for all of us, though it was designed for exactly this—the table extended, chairs pushed to the margins, bottles of wine standing at attention. The smell of butter, lemon, and celebration hung in the air.
“Remember when Ben got banned from the community center for that thing with the basketball?” Eli was mid-story, and the table erupted in laughter. Ben was grinning, that slow smile that made him look years younger.
“I didn’t get banned.” Ben pointed his fork at Eli. “I was asked to leave.”
“For five months,” Austin added.
“Eight months,” Mom corrected.
The table howled. This was what my family did when they loved someone—they reminded them where they’d come from and celebrated how far they’d traveled.
But as the night wore on, my mask started to slip.
It wasn't the sadness that got me. It was the love. Seeing Chase whisper to Harper. Watching Austin’s hand find the small of Iris’s back.
It was all so effortless for them now, and witnessing it felt like looking at a language I used to speak but had suddenly forgotten.
Then came the cake. Iris, a bona fide baking wizard, brought out a towering confection frosted in white and red, with a ridiculously detailed, edible ambulance on top.
It was a damn work of art. As the family gathered around, the candlelight flickering on their happy faces, the air in the kitchen became too thin.
I couldn't breathe. The effort of pretending I wasn't bleeding out was suddenly too much.
“Gonna check the cooler,” I muttered to no one in particular, and slipped out the back.
The deck was an oasis of quiet. I walked to the railing and gripped the smooth wood, inhaling the humid night air in jagged gulps. I just stood there, shaking with the effort of holding myself together.
The screen door slid open, but I didn't turn around.
“We need more ice,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.
Eli came to stand beside me. He didn’t say anything, just handed me a fresh, cold bottle of beer. He leaned against the railing, sipping his own drink and staring at the dark water.
“You’re doing a hell of a job in there,” he said quietly. “Fooled Mom, I think. But you look like you’re about to snap in half.”
I let out a long, ragged exhale and dropped the act. My shoulders slumped. “Is it that obvious?”
“To the others, maybe not. But I can see it. Takes a bullshitter to know a bullshitter and all that.” He turned to face me. “You want to tell me why you’re out here staring at the ocean instead of eating cake?”
“Because I ruined it,” I said, the truth finally spilling out. “I couldn’t stand being in there and watching them. You. I had what you all have. I had it in my hands, and I threw it away because I was scared she would do it first. I’m a coward, Eli.”
Eli listened, his expression unreadable. He didn’t interrupt.
“I ended it because I couldn’t stand the thought of waiting for the axe to fall. So I swung it myself. And now... seeing Ben, seeing everyone so happy... I just feel like I disqualified myself from this family’s good luck.”
Eli took another long drink, his face unusually contemplative.
“I had a list. When things got serious with Jules. A whole list of reasons why it would never work. She was too structured. I was too chaotic. She was a planner. I lived for the moment. Her job was her life. My life was my job. It was a very logical, detailed list.”
He turned to me, and I could just make out the wry set of his mouth.
“And every single item on it was bullshit. Just a shield. A pre-emptive excuse for when I inevitably screwed it up or when she realized she could do better. Because deep down, I was terrified of repeating the same mistakes Dad did. I figured if I didn’t let myself fall all the way, it wouldn’t hurt as much when it ended. ”
His words struck a chord deep inside me, like the cracking of a rib.
“You keep trying to treat love like it’s a business plan, Braden.
” His voice firmed up, cutting through my haze of self-pity.
“You want to run the numbers, assess the market, and mitigate the risk before you invest. Then get out if the odds don’t look good.
But it doesn’t work that way. It’s not a solvable equation.
The risk is the whole point. It’s a leap.
You don’t get the reward”—he gestured with his bottle back toward the warm, bright house full of love and laughter—“without it.”
Eli’s words, coming from my carefree, fun-loving brother who had stared into the same family abyss and found the courage to jump, dismantled the last of my justifications. There was no logic left to hide behind, only the agonizing truth of my mistake.
“It’s too late,” I said, looking down at my beer. “She got the offer. The big one. The dream job.”
“And?”
“And she’s gone. She’s probably packing right now.”
Eli looked at me, his gaze sharp and unwavering. “How can you be sure she accepted? Have you called her? Have you even sent a text?”
Of course I hadn’t. Calling her would make it real. Her silence, or worse, her polite confirmation that she was moving on, would be the final nail in my own coffin. It was easier to live with the assumption of loss than to have it confirmed.
I couldn’t answer him. I just shook my head.
“Jesus, Braden.” Eli clapped a hand on my shoulder, hard. “You’re the smartest guy I know, but you’re being an idiot. You made a mistake. But until you see the taillights of her car crossing that bridge, it’s not over. Unless you decide it is.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I really screwed this up.”
“Yeah,” Eli agreed. He finished his beer and set it on the railing. “You did. A lot of us do, and Tessa bears some responsibility also. But sometimes we get a second chance, or maybe a third in your case. If you go after it.”
He went back inside, leaving me alone in the dark. But this time, instead of the gray fog, a spark of something else flared in my chest. Challenge.