8. Milo
8
MILO
Family dinner complete? Check.
Brenna’s reputationally challenged brownies devoured? Check.
Dishes washed and put away? Check.
Willa and Gus still bickering about the discount? Unfortunately. Nash at least has the good sense to keep his mouth shut.
“Ready when you are,” Brenna says, appearing by my side with her baking dish.
“Then let’s escape while we can. I don’t want to be sucked in to this argument.”
She nods, shuffling off to thank my parents for including her. I do the same, keeping one eye on all my siblings, hoping we can escape unnoticed.
Thankfully, we do.
Driving down the long, dirt road that leads to the house, an ease settles in me. I can’t explain it, but I feel it take over, my whole body starting to relax. Something about being with Brenna like this, just the two of us in the cab of my truck, feels right. There’s an ease to it, a comfort. The tension from earlier is gone, replaced with something like an intangible peace.
One I’m trying to tell myself is because she’s like family. Because I’ve known her for her entire life, and I feel as protective of her as her own brother. And not because I wonder what she feels like pressed against me as the little spoon.
I sneak a glance at her, trying to keep my eyes on the road but unable to stop myself. Chin resting in her hand, elbow propped up on the window, Brenna is staring out, oblivious to me. Her shoulders are hunched, and her legs are curled up into her body, like she’s turning into herself and not just lost in thought.
Maybe there isn’t as much of an ease between us as I thought.
Shit…
“Everything okay?” I ask, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.
She doesn’t respond, her stance unchanging as my question hangs in the air. My curiosity and concern climb a notch with her lack of movement, my mind whirring with what the deal is. Is she that deep in thought? Did she eat something that bothered her stomach, or did one of my brothers do something to upset her? Hell, did I do something to upset her?
“Brenna?” I try again.
“Huh?”
She whips her head around, our eyes catching briefly. Her soft brown irises send a warmth through me, like a hug. I grip the steering wheel tighter, trying to maintain control. Right about now that isn’t easy, the urge to reach out and take her hand growing by the second.
I have to get it together…
“I asked if you were okay. ”
“Oh, sorry. Zoned out. Everything’s fine.”
Phew…
“Something on your mind? Wanna talk it out? Or did one of those knuckleheads do something?”
Brenna laughs, the beautiful sound filling the cab, weaving its way inside me. Like someone flipped on twinkle lights, I instantly feel the soft glow take over.
“Nothing life-altering, just a little nervous for my first day at Hickory Hills Drugs tomorrow. Don’t get me wrong—I know my drug interactions, side effects, and can count to thirty, but I’m not sure I’m prepared for Mr. Hovland.”
I nod, pretending that I know what she means. But I don’t. Because I was unaware there was anything to worry about when it came to the town pharmacist.
“He a creeper and I just don’t know it?”
“Ew, no.” She scrunches her face in disgust. Okay then, good to know. “Nothing like that. He’s just a gossip. When I interned there a couple of summers ago, that was all he did. Everyone who came in was subject to him playing town crier.”
I nod again, trying to think of my own interactions with the man. I’m not in there very often, the occasional antibiotic or something, so I can’t say I’ve been on the receiving end of whatever news he feels the need to spread. Then again, I’m probably not his target market either. The local brew guy isn’t one who’s likely to have much to share. Unless you want to hear about beer.
“Well, if that’s the worst of it, then it shouldn't be that bad, right? And it will be good practice for your boards.”
“It will. A friend of mine who graduated last year said the test was mostly drug interactions, chemical structures, and pharmacokinetics, so that’s where I’m trying to do some focus studying, but that’s the thing about these kinds of tests. They’re adaptive—designed so that no two people get the exact same questions. They cycle things in and out all the time, so it’s anyone’s guess as to what’s going to be on there. There is a reason people talk about this being one of the most stressful experiences of their lives.”
“That sounds like a lot.”
“It is. And there’s a national and a state portion of this. Because every state is different.”
“This is making me really glad I chose to brew beer for a living.”
“Still plenty of chemistry involved there.”
“Sure, but it’s easier chemistry. Fun chemistry.”
“All chemistry is fun.”
I disagree with her there, but don’t dare tell her. I’ll let her have this one. Because there is nothing “fun” about dealing with any of the mineral stuff. Or any of the metals. Really, any and all inorganic chemistry.
The conversation lulls as I turn onto the main road, making our way back to the center of town. Brenna turns back toward the window, appearing to get lost in thought again. I can’t blame her; she’s got a lot on her plate this summer. That test sounds brutal.
Still, my older brother Spidey senses are tingling, making me wonder if that’s really all that is on her mind. Or maybe I just want to keep her talking, enjoying hearing about things she’s passionate about.
“As long as that’s all it is,” I push. “Hate to think we did something. Didn’t treat a guest right at dinner, Miss Belle would have our heads.”
Brenna rolls her eyes, silently laughing. “Milo, just what do you think happened?”
“I dunno.” I shrug, giving her my signature smirk, hoping that it will brighten that smile even more. And it does. Mission accomplished. “Maybe one of them said something. Made a rude comment. Hell, you made a dessert that had Anton’s favorite candy in it, and I didn’t hear him thank you.”
“He thanked me.”
I glance at her sideways, questioning that response.
“He did!” she defends. “You were still outside scrubbing the grill. He came into the kitchen as I was wrapping up the leftovers for him and gave me a big hug and thanked me.”
I nod. “Okay, then.”
“I can handle your family. I’ve been around them my whole life. The crazy looks a little different than before, but it’s not new.”
Very true…
“Besides, I’ve taken a Hayes-sponsored personal safety and self-defense class. So now I have been trained by the Hayes family to protect myself both verbally and physically.”
I throw my head back laughing. That’s quite the comeback—one I was not expecting. Then again, Brenna never had any problem defending herself when it came to all the crap we gave her.
“Good girl.”
I freeze. My mouth moved faster than my brain, spitting out a response that is now hanging in the air like a lead balloon. Although lead balloons wouldn’t really hang, would they? No, they would tank straight to the ground—much like my calling my best friend’s little sister a good girl.
Shit…
I can’t believe I just said that. Now she’s going to think I’m babying her. Treating her like a small child, when really, she’s an adult, fully capable of whatever she chooses.
Or worse, she’s going to think I’m hitting on her. Making this all sexual, when it’s not.
It can’t be.
Even if I did think about whispering that to her as I jerked off in the shower this morning. But that doesn’t matter—because we won’t be doing that again either.
"You know,” she says, shaking her head. “Anytime someone says that, all I can think of is that scene in Jurassic Park where the British guy is eye to eye with the raptor and goes ‘ clever girl’ and then gets his face eaten off.”
Well, at least she didn’t think I was making it sexual…
“That’s a thought process.”
Brenna grits her teeth, smiling awkwardly, looking borderline embarrassed. “Yeah, thoughts I should probably keep to myself. And this is why I’ve probably never been on a second date.”
Brenna’s admission goes off like a bomb in my head. My whole body jerks as I turn to look at her, my hands taking the steering wheel with us. The truck swerves, Brenna letting out a squeak and grabbing the oh-shit handle as the back end fishtails.
I reach over, my reflexes kicking in to hold her in place, even though she’s wearing her seatbelt. My hand lands squarely on her boob though, making this moment even more awkward.
Great, now she’s going to think I’m trying to cop a feel…again…
Removing my hand, I correct us, straightening out the truck, my brain still trying to catch up.
Brenna’s never been on a second date?
Nope, not possible.
I blink hard, over and over again, trying to find a response. Because I can’t be flippant about this. This requires the caring, teddy bear side of a big brother. That I can do. I think.
I slow the truck, pulling over to the side of the road. I want to make sure that Brenna has my full attention, and that requires us to not be in motion. Or else we’re going to repeat my Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride impression from back there .
“I’m gonna need you to repeat that, please,” I say once we’re stopped.
“Every time I hear someone say good girl—” she starts.
“Not the part about the raptor eating Muldoon’s face off. The part about you never having been on a second date.”
“Oh,” she says, straightening up and letting go of the handle. “I’ve never been on a second date.”
The words are the same as they were the first time. That doesn’t make them make any more sense though.
“How have you never been on a second date?”
“No one has ever asked?” Her voice lifts up on the last word, like she’s answering with a question, unsure of her own response.
She looks down at her hands, her shoulders slumping again, my heart tanking right along with them. I can feel the unease wafting off her, regret filling me. I’m the one who made her feel this way, and I could kick myself for doing so.
“Bren…” I reach out, taking her hand and squeezing it. She doesn’t pull away, which is a good sign, but she doesn’t look up either. I need to make sure she knows that she has nothing to be embarrassed about. “No judgment here. This is me. You can tell me anything.”
She looks up, mouth pursed to one side, clearly questioning that last statement. “Apparently not without making you almost crash.”
“That’s fair,” I acquiesce. “Is this why you clammed up when Anton asked about the family thing?” She nods, her silent affirmation stirring more questions in me. “I…I feel like I’m missing something here. You’ve dated; I’ve heard about it.”
Hell, I’ve witnessed it. I helped take her prom pictures. And some guy stopped by our tailgate when we all went up to Athens for a UGA game a couple of years ago. I watched Nick Scarborough flirt with her at my own damn bar the other night. Then again, flirting doesn’t mean anything. And Kenzie did say he was a player.
“Hung out is probably a better way of putting it.” She sighs, turning to fully face me. Her face is the color of my mother’s tomato sauce, and her hands are fidgeting with the seatbelt. “Milo, this is really embarrassing to have to admit to you. Mortifying, actually. I know I opened the door with my comment, but now having to walk through it…this is not the kind of thing any girl wants to admit to.”
“Totally fair.”
I give her a moment to decide if she wants to continue. I don’t blame her if she doesn’t—if she wants to tell me that the conversation is over and to just head back to the loft. But that needs to be her call. I’m here no matter what she chooses.
“Promise this stays between us?”
I nod, holding up my hand, pinky finger extended. “Promise.”
One side of Brenna’s mouth quirks up into an almost smile, and she returns the gesture, wrapping her pinky around mine.
“No one has ever wanted to go out on a second date with me.”
Her voice is small. Not quite a whisper, but the complete lack of power behind it lays out all the hurt that comes with it. That this is the worst thing she could ever have to admit to. Which, it probably is.
“Not something I’ve ever said out loud,” she continues. “But that’s where we’re at. No guy wants me.”
“Bren, you’re amazing. You’re smart and funny and?—”
She cuts me off with a look. One that very clearly says, “Thanks, Dad!” So I dial it back. Because, yeah…placating is not the answer. She needs someone who is going to listen. Who is going to be supportive .
“It’s sweet of you to say those things, Milo, but I can face facts. There is something wrong with me.”
I reel backward, her self-assessment exploding almost as much as her first bomb.
“Boys are dumb. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“What’s the one thing that all the guys I’ve gone out with, or gotten to know, or slept with have in common? Me. I’m the common denominator here. I’m a scientist. I can deduce from there.”
Well, that answers my question about her virginity…
I sigh, wishing I had something to say that would make her feel better. But I don’t. It’s pretty clear, looking at her with the dejected look on her face, that there’s very little that is going to fix this, if anything.
Despite all that, she still looks beautiful with the setting summer sun behind her, bouncing off her brown hair. If we were any other guy-girl pair, I’d be giving in to the urge to haul her into my lap, hold her as tight as I could, and kiss her until we both couldn’t breathe.
Instead, I’m going to have to settle for something a little colder.
Literally.
“You know, I invented a beer for moments just like this.”
Brenna scoffs out a laugh, her mouth tilting upward once more. “Sob Story?”
“Or Party Mode. Whichever you prefer.”
“Both?”
“Both it is then.”
I slip the truck back into drive, pulling out on the road again, thankful that Brenna opened up. The heaviness still looms inside the truck, neither of us talking. There isn’t much left to say after that. The older brother in me wants to fix this. To help Brenna see how incredible she is.
So that’s what I’m going to go.
I will find a way to show her.