28. Brenna
28
brENNA
Faster than a speeding bullet.
In the blink of an eye.
In a heartbeat.
It’s not that these phrases never made sense before. They have. I’ve used them. A lot.
But until this moment, I don’t think I’ve really understood just how fast that split second can be. How one can go from the most extreme, intense pleasure to bone-chilling cold in an instant.
That said, the millisecond between Milo’s tongue flicking my clit and Brandt’s voice ringing out changed everything. Absolutely everything.
I freeze, as does Milo, one of my hands still clutching his head for dear life, the other supporting my weight behind me. I don’t dare open my eyes, knowing exactly what I’m going to find when I do. Because that was not the voice of an older brother who liked what he just walked in on.
Which, to be fair, no sibling wants to bear witness to this. If the roles were reversed, I’m sure I would be grumpy about it as well. Brandt and Bryce are grown-ass people who are free to do what and who they want; I just don’t want to have to see it.
“Get the fuck off of her!”
I don’t have time to think—to act—before Brandt grabs Milo by the collar of his shirt, yanking him backward. The move leaves me exposed, and I scream, both of the guys turning their attention to me.
“Bren,” Milo exclaims, reaching for me, right as Brandt’s eyes go wide, fully registering my nakedness.
Hopping off the bar, I awkwardly pull up my pants, trying to step toward Milo, but Brandt shoves him out of the way. “You’ve apparently already done more than enough.”
“Brandt!”
“Get upstairs!” he demands.
“No!” I shoot back. “You’re not the boss of me!”
I stomp my foot, buttoning my jeans and straightening my shirt. Despite what he might think, this is not a dictatorship, and he does not get to stomp back in here and call the shots.
“I said, get upstairs,” he repeats, this time through gritted teeth.
“And I said no.” I hold my ground, staring him down, letting him know I’m not going to budge. “What are you even doing here? You aren’t scheduled to be back until?—”
“So that makes it okay to fuck my business partner on my bar?”
Ouch…
I bristle, his words hitting hard and deep. I want to defend my actions—my relationship with Milo—but I can tell by the look on his face that right now, he’s not going to hear any of it. Still, I have to try.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Get upstairs. ”
“Anything you have to say to me?—”
“Brenna Heidi Rawlins!” Brandt shouts.
Oh, he did not just middle name me.
“Brandt Patrick Rawlins!”
“Bren,” Milo injects. He starts to close the gap between us, but Brandt throws him a look and he stops, retreating slightly. “Go upstairs; talk with your brother. I’ll be down here whenever y’all get done.”
I look him up and down, taking in how calm he is. Or at least the calmness he’s projecting. For all I know he’s just as much of a wreck as I am inside. But he’s also Brandt’s best friend and knows him as well as anyone on this planet. So he knows that as excitable as my brother can be, he’s not one who is usually prone to anger, and that more often than not what he needs is to simply talk something out.
I hate that he’s right, because it means giving in to Brandt’s demand of going upstairs. But logic wins out here. Plus, it gives me the chance to share with one of the most important men in my life that there is another important man.
One who might rival him for the top spot.
“Fine, let’s go.”
I push past Brandt, letting my own anger at him for his behavior fuel me as I work my way through the storeroom and up the stairs to the loft. I don’t bother to look to see if he’s behind me, his presence big enough to be felt on the other side of town, much less from three stairs up. Once we’re finally in the loft and the door is closed behind us, I spin on my heel, hands planted on my hips, every emotion I’ve ever felt flowing through me ready to break loose.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I scream.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” he repeats. “Me? What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“Yes! ”
Brandt stomps past me into the apartment, the floorboards vibrating under my feet. He rounds the coffee table, stopping in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling window, crossing his arms and staring out. He’s silent for a long moment, eyes trained on something in the distance, as if he’s trying to collect his thoughts.
“Congratulations on passing the boards. I knew you could do it,” he says, his voice calmer.
“Thanks.”
“There’s a gift for you, Dr. Rawlins, down in my luggage.”
I smile, flopping down onto the couch. Maybe this won’t be the battle I was expecting.
“Thanks. But no one calls pharmacists ‘doctor,’ even if that is technically the title.”
Brandt chuckles, his whole upper body moving, arms still crossed as he stares out the window. “You’re Dr. Rawlins to me. Which is why I can’t let you throw away your life like this.”
Errrr…what?
It’s like the conversation slammed into a brick wall. I blink, trying to get my bearings, because I have no idea what he means by that. We are still having the same conversation, right? Unless we aren’t. That has to be it. Brandt started a whole new conversation while I wasn’t paying attention, and that’s how I got lost.
“Throw my life away how?”
Seriously, I am so confused. I lean forward on the couch, waiting for him to respond. But Brandt doesn’t move. He continues to just stare out the window.
“Brandt…”
“Also,” he spins around, throwing his arms out wide. “Didn’t I say no strange men in my bed?”
What the hell …
I think my brother lost his mind in Colorado. That is the only explanation there is for this.
“One, it’s Milo, not strange. And two, we weren’t in your bed, we were in his.”
Brandt blanches, and I can almost see the bile rising in his throat. I also almost feel bad for making him want to puke. Almost. But not totally.
“Details I didn’t need,” he mutters, his anger returning. “How long has this been going on?”
“I thought you didn’t need details,” I quip.
“His sarcasm certainly rubbed off on you this summer.”
My blood starts to boil, my brother’s offhanded remark sounding more like a personal accusation. I will not let him spin this into a bad thing.
“You lied to me,” he continues. “When I asked you what that picture was. There was more to it, wasn’t there?”
Yes…
“Anton really did throw a peach at us. But…”
“But…”
“We’ve been seeing each other for most of the summer.”
“Most of the summer. So instead of going out and finding yourself or whatever hot-girl summer was about, you wandered across the apartment and decided to fuck the guy you found there?”
Low blow…
Brandt’s words cut like a knife, each one leaving a stinging that lingers in the silence. Tears prick at the corner of my eyes and I have to fight to keep them from falling. I won’t cry. I am stronger than that.
Pushing to my feet, I suck in a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I walk toward the kitchen, giving myself a moment, wanting to make sure that when I do speak, my words are clear and not wobbly. Turning to face my brother, I look him in the eye, making sure he knows I mean business .
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Yeah? Then what was it like?”
Milo was there to help build me up in a way I didn’t know I needed…
“Not like that.”
“Right…”
I ball my fists, trying to find my words to explain. But they escape me. All summer long, whatever this is between Milo and me has been inexplicable. That’s been part of the joy. The sheer mystery behind it. The fact that there wasn’t a requirement for a definition. But now that I need to put words to it, that I need for it to have an explanation, I still can’t.
Actually, I can.
I know exactly what I feel about Milo. For Milo. However, that little—big—word is best said out loud for the first time to Milo. Not my big brother.
“He’s twelve years older than you,” Brandt says, starting to pace.
“I am aware.”
“And a bad idea.”
“How about you let me decide who is and isn’t a bad idea for me?”
“Brenna, you’re twenty-six. You have your whole life ahead of you. You can’t be throwing it away on some serial monogamist.”
“What?”
There he is with the throwing my life away thing again.
“Milo goes from one relationship to the next, all of them sorta but not really serious. Until he decides the girl just isn’t worth the effort, because he’s never going to love a person as much as he loves the brewery.”
My heart stops, sinking, right along with my stomach. I swallow hard, the harsh reality of what he’s saying creeping in.
“Think about it. Kelly, Andrea, whatever the one before her was named. So on top of being too fucking old for you, all that’s gonna happen is you’re going to get hurt. And I’m not going to stand here and let that happen.”
Tears threaten for real now, the ache in my chest growing at a rapid pace. One that makes it seem like I could rip in two at any moment. Either that or collapse altogether. The walls close in tighter and tighter, making it hard to breathe as my anger takes over.
“I am not a child,” I say as calmly as I can.
“You don’t?—”
“Brandt, I am not a child!” I scream. “I am a full-grown adult who can make her own fucking choices! You don’t get to dictate who I do and don’t date!”
“I will not stand by and let you ruin your life over this.” He shakes his head, as if he’s trying to free an idea loose. “It was one thing when Mom mentioned that Milo took you to the Fourth of July picnic, a little weird, but okay, I could reason that away. But when Mrs. Chamberlain sent me that photo?—”
“That’s who sent it?” I seethe. That woman…
“Does it matter?” he questions, flailing his arms. “Clearly there are others in this town who are just as concerned about your welfare as I am, since the person I asked to look out for you can’t be trusted.”
“Orrrr,” I counter, dragging out the word, trying to be as mocking as possible, “they want to get a rise out of you because they’re lacking some entertainment. This whole town has watched us together all summer long. No one said anything. We even had dinner together with Mom and Dad last week. ”
That little factoid stops Brandt dead in his tracks. Fire flares in his pupils, his mouth pressing into a hard line.
“So it was just me that you were lying to about this.”
Guess so…
In my defense, I was just telling Mell that I thought he would be accepting. Then again, I’m not sure how much I really believed that. Because if I had, I would have told him. So, guilty as charged there.
Regardless, that doesn’t mean he has any say.
“Not on purpose.”
“Had all summer to tell me. To tell me the truth when I asked.”
I nod. There isn’t a response for that. He’s right. We did.
“Because you know deep down I’m right.” There’s a shift in his voice. The anger is still there, but now it’s mixed with something else. Something I can’t name. But more than that, it’s the tone he’s using. It’s the same one he used when I was little. When he was in older brother mode. Protective mode. I know best mode. “You knew that I would talk you out of this. That you’re only going to get hurt. Because this is a bad idea, Brenna.”
Something inside me snaps. All the anger and hurt from this conversation boils over, and I can’t handle it anymore. I’m done. If that’s how he sees this, if that’s how he thinks this is going to be, then I don’t have room for it in my life.
Brandt was always the one person who believed in me. Who supported me. But if he’s not going to treat me like the adult that I am, then none of that matters.
“That has nothing to do with it. We made a choice based off what we felt was best for our relationship. You weren’t here. And this didn’t feel like a text message kind of conversation. The irony of all this? I really thought you’d be happy for me. I even told Mell that. ”
“Relationship,” Brandt scoffs. “You’re fucking him. That’s not?—”
“Shut the fuck up, Brandt!” I cut him off. “Cause here’s the thing. What it all boils down to. You can either respect me, my choices, and my independence, or you can get the fuck out of my life! Got it?”
I don’t give him a chance to answer.
Spinning on my heel, I head for the door, slamming it behind me.