Chapter 23 Brandon
brANDON
Ipace back and forth nervously, feeling Angie’s eyes on me as I walk a new path in the frozen ground—it’s a stark reminder of what we’re doing today.
With the few days between Christmas and New Year’s, Angie and I decided that today, the day after Christmas, is the day we’re telling our parents.
We’ll start with hers and then end with mine. What a way to end the year, huh?
“The grounds crew will thank you for the new path,” Angie teases from where she’s leaning against my car.
The freshly fallen snow is no match for me today. “How are you so calm?”
“I’m not. I keep running through best and worst case scenarios,” Angie admits.
The deep maroon sweater she’s wearing, combined with the light blonde strands of her hair, makes her blue eyes pop and enhances the blush on her cheeks from the winter air.
It’s been a subtle change, but Angie started adding color to her wardrobe.
I haven’t pointed it out because I don’t want my observation to scare her back to wearing all black.
I love my girl in her favorite color, but something as simple as adding color to her wardrobe reminds me of what she said a few months ago.
About me putting color back into her life—I don’t take that lightly.
“But,” she continues, “it'll be easier to tell them with you by my side. At least I hope it will be.”
“Okay.” I nod. “What’s your best-case scenario?”
“Best-case scenario is that my parents are accepting.”
I give Angie a disbelieving look with scrunched eyebrows. “And worst-case scenario?”
“Worst-case is they’re not accepting and I have to move out. Because there’s no way I can happily date you and live under their roof with their disapproval hanging over me. And if that happens, I don’t know where I’ll go.”
I let out a heavy sigh and watch my breath form a white cloud in front of my face. It’s been over a little over a month since we told my brothers. To say that Sunday dinners have been a little awkward with this secret they know, which my parents are oblivious to, is an understatement.
But then I look at Angie—who fights her depression every single day—walk around with a genuine smile on her face.
Of course, she still has her days when the depression battle wins and getting out of bed is a struggle when her lack of interest in everything, including me, hits her at full force.
And I realize that telling the people we love is the least I can do to walk through this tough time with her.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. But if it does,” I pause and make sure my next words are clear, “you can stay with me.”
Angie shakes her head. “I don’t want to put you out.”
“You won’t,” I say when I stop in front of her.
“I want you with me all the time, as obsessive as that sounds. And I know you said you had plans to move out. I totally respect your decision to be independent. But know that the offer to live with me is open. And I’m a great roommate, I clean up after myself, and I cook. ”
“Definitely a plus.” She nods, pushing herself off the hood of my car and walking to the passenger door.
Before she can grab the handle, I spin her around and capture her lips with mine.
Our time together has been short between the holidays.
With me starting a new project and Angie working longer shifts at the bar, along with the brainstorming sessions for her piano bar with Miles, we’ve been thin on time. But when we are together, it’s bliss.
Being hers is more than I could have imagined.
Her tongue tangles with mine, and I push her back against the door, angling her head and deepening the kiss.
My hands dive into her hair, weaving the blonde strands through my fingers while her hands explore my body—or as much as she can while we’re bundled in winter gear.
The soft moans that float and mix with the winter wind, as I nip and suck at her bottom lip, heighten every feeling I have for her.
“I changed my mind,” Angie pants when I begin to trail kisses down her neck. “Let’s just go back to your place, pack up, and then run away, never telling our parents.”
“As tempting as that is,” I say between kisses, “our families would hunt us down.”
Angie whimpers when I nibble at the spot below her ear. The sound sends a jolt of electricity to my painfully hard cock, which is a shame because we don’t have nearly enough time to take care of each other before the sun sets.
“I don’t like when you’re right,” Angie pouts.
I smile against her neck and place one final kiss there before standing up straight. “I know.”
Her cheeks are flushed and her lips are puffy from my kisses. Angie just rolls her eyes and opens the door, sliding in and letting me close the door for her. I let out another heavy sigh and walk around to the driver’s side, sliding in and starting up the car.
“Rip the band-aid off,” Angie says.
Nodding, I put the car in drive and carefully navigate the snowy road that takes us back to Angie’s house. And instead of parking on the street like I’ve done in the past, I pull into the long driveway.
“One step forward,” Angie chants, and together we get out of the car and walk up the front steps. She uses her key to open the front door and the sound of the television in the living room greets us.
“Angie?” I hear her mom call out and my heart speeds up like the anticipation before the big drop on a roller coaster.
“Yeah,” she responds and takes her jacket off, placing it on the coat hook and waiting for me to do the same. Angie takes my hand in hers as we walk down the hallway and stop at the threshold of the living room.
“Hey, what do you think about…” Her mom’s voice trails off when she sees us. “No.”
I tighten my hand around her, giving her all the backing and solid support.
“Brandon and I have been dating.”
I think we both assumed we’d be met with yelling, but I think the silence is worse.
“Before you two say anything, know that I love you both. But these past two years have been hell for me. From losing Liam, and essentially losing you two because you chose to bury yourself in work rather than spend time here—with me and I was left to swim in a storm with no lifejacket. But one day, he came to the TapHouse and saw me. He saw what you two were ignoring. He saw the sad, he saw me fighting for joy, he saw himself, and over the last six months, I fell head over heels for him,” she tells her parents with a strained voice.
“Are we supposed to be happy for you? Support you?” her dad asks.
“Yes. At least that’s what Mom said when I told her I was seeing someone,” Angie challenges her dad who whips around to face her mom before turning his stare on us again.
“No,” he says, like it’s a final statement, and a thick silence hangs in the air.
“Greg,” Susan, Angie’s Mom, starts.
“No,” he says again.
She places a hand on his arm, and they share a look that only married couples seem to understand before she turns to us.
“Your parents were our best friends, Brandon. And as a parent, losing a child is hard. But having your child date someone who’s connected to that loss is even harder.
So you have to understand that seeing you two—”
“You cannot be accepting of this,” her dad says exasperatedly, cutting Susan off.
“What is the other alternative? Huh? We forbade her from dating him and lose her regardless? Greg, we’ve already lost one child,” Susan’s voice cracks at the end.
His mouth opens and shuts like a fish out of water. “Well, while she’s still in school, living under our roof, she will not date him.”
Angie huffs out a sarcastic laugh. “I’m so glad you pay attention, Dad. Because I already finished school.”
“Well, you’re not seeing him while you’re living here. So unless you found another place to live…”
Angie and her mom suck in a breath. We knew this was a possibility, part of the worst-case scenario, but to know that her dad is firm has to break her heart.
“She can stay with me,” I speak up, directing their attention to me.
Her head whips in his direction, and I don’t miss the tears in her eyes when she turns back to me. I nod, giving her a soft smile. While this speeds up our timeline of forever, I’m not going to let them throw her out on the street.
She turns back to face her parents, the people she just got on solid ground with, and squares her shoulders. “I’ll be out of your hair in thirty minutes.”
There are moments when you feel like you’re floating outside of your body while in a crowded room, where you feel like every sound is muffled—that’s this moment.
The walk up to Angie’s room is thick with loss, and when we enter, she acts on autopilot, moving to her closet.
If we were under different circumstances, I’d make a joke about finally being in her room.
And as I watch the girl I love begin to pack up her life, it hits me that for the first time in months, I’m back in the presence of the girl I met over the summer.
Snapping out of it, I hurry over to her dresser and shovel out the clothes and toss them into her open suitcases.
The sooner I get her out of here, the better.
Twenty minutes later, all of her clothes and shoes are shoved into three suitcases and two duffel bags. Angie looks around her room, and I notice her gaze snag on a dot of paint on the ceiling.
“I was in high school when I decided it was time to paint my room,” she begins, still looking at that dot with tears filling her eyes and a slight quiver on her bottom lip.
“I couldn’t drive because I was only fourteen.
So during summer break, Liam took me to the paint store, and he was so gobsmacked by my choice in paint color.
He tried to talk me out of it, but I was firm in what I wanted.
I guess when you’re labeled the forgotten child, you do everything to shout that you matter.
The paint was my version of doing that.”