Chapter 37 Grey
GREY
My pulse picks up as though I’ve been running the bleachers in the stadium on a cold winter day. I’m hot with anger and cold with confusion.
My gaze remains frozen on my brother. There’s no mistaking his eyes, the same grey as mine. He’s alive, but he doesn’t recognize me.
Everly’s father pumps his hands. “Hang on a moment. Let me make sense of this.” He points at his daughter. “You and Todd were supposed to get married, but you didn’t make it down the aisle because—”
“Because we’re in love,” Princess repeats, peppering Todd with kisses.
“Babe, not here. I’m doing business,” he says.
“Todd, you’re delusional if you still think you have a chance with Everly, especially if it has anything to do with business. You’re washed up. Time to sail into the sunset, son.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Princess exclaims. “The ship is waiting, babe.”
Bran blinks a few times as if that has meaning for him and as if Princess means something to him.
“But you—?” Everly’s father points at Princess.
She splays her fingers and plants them on her chest. “I’m Princess Braaten. Also known as Princess Papaya on the Caribbean’s Premier Royale Cruise Line. It’s a far cry from Isle Royale. I’d never survive there. There isn’t even a coffee shop.” She bunches up her face.
The space between Mr. LeFevre’s eyebrows shrinks, along with my hope, as my brother stands there blankly, looking at Princess like a lost puppy dog.
“Isle Royale?” Bran whispers.
“So, how do you know him?” Mr. Lefevre wags his finger between Princess and me.
“Oh, we used to be together,” she says like it’s no big deal.
“But you’re married to Everly now?” her father asks.
I extend my hand to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
His grip is firm. “Okay, and how does this guy fit into it?” When our hands drop, he points at my brother.
That’s a great question, but before I can hear an explanation, everyone starts talking at once and applause echoes through the banquet room like a dinner murder mystery was solved.
But it’s not. Not even close. I try to make my way to Bran, but everyone is bustling around, chatting, and carrying on as if my world didn’t erupt in a violent storm of thunder and lightning ricocheting off nearby clouds.
“Hold on,” I bellow, but no one hears me.
I’d like to reverse the route that took me to Los Angeles and go home to my cabin and son.
It’s my safe harbor and right now, I feel like I’m drowning from all the people and pressures pushing in on all sides—the team, the future, and my brother’s questionable health status.
He’s bedraggled, sunburned, and far too thin.
Or have I been under so much stress that I’m imagining the whole thing? My vision blurs around the edges and my muscles tense.
I blink a few times, watching Todd in Everly’s face, talking aggressively. I wind up, ready to clock him, but someone beats me to the punch. Literally.
I’m not sure what happens next, other than a lot of black and blue, shouting, and a regular ole Bruiser’s dust-up. Guess you can take the guys out of the fight, but you can’t take the fight out of the guys.
Only, instead of throwing more punches, everyone is throwing food. I find my way to Everly as she hucks a doughnut at Princess’s head. “Here’s your crown, Princess Papaya.”
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I don’t know, but it’s fun.”
“I just barely got out of hot water with the team.”
“If Coach Hammer sends you back to Blancbourg, I’ll put in a good word for you.” Everly winks.
“You’re not going to teach there anymore?”
“No, silly. I’m a mom now. I have a family and playing the role of a metal magnate in my future.”
“Seriously?”
“Well, my dad did punch Todd. So, the likelihood of them teaming up is slim. I wouldn’t say no to taking over for him when the time comes.”
“Except you’d be Queen Sunshine instead of the Ice King.”
“I like that.”
“Also, punching Todd was my job,” I say.
“The Ice King doesn’t have a coach or commissioner he could get in trouble with.
At least, not anymore. Then again, the Ice King didn’t do much to try to avoid the penalty box back in the day.
I also think that was my dad’s way of telling me that he’s on my team, a surprise after all these years of supreme chill. ”
A grape flies in my direction. I catch it midair and squeeze. “I have to admit, I’m over these kinds of shenanigans.”
“Oh, come on. Try throwing one of these doughnuts. It’s fun. See if you can ring it around one of the centerpieces on the table.”
“Everly, we’re going to get into so much trouble for this.”
Wolf and Declan play monkey in the middle with a loaf of bread and Brandon Campos, our new center and the guy who started this thing.
But then my gaze lands on Branson, standing alone in the midst of the chaos.
“But how did you find him?”
Everly and I duck for cover when asparagus spears sail our way. “While I was hiding on my wedding day, Princess Papaya—who, at the time, I only knew as the woman to whom I owed a great debt for saving me from marrying Todd—waltzed into my wedding and professed her undying love for the groom.”
“Princess, my ex?” I ask.
“The one and the same. They kissed like a couple would after saying I do. As my thoughts scrambled and I fled for safety, a man wearing a Bermuda shirt and a pair of shorts hurried after her like a lost puppy dog, calling for her, but I didn’t think I heard right.
I figured I was caught in some kind of wacky love triangle. ”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, I realize now, he was calling, ‘Princess Papaya.’ Only, in my frenzied state, it just sounded like gibberish.”
“But why is my brother following my ex around?”
Everly gives me a little nudge as we get to our feet. “Why don’t you go ask him?”
“I’m afraid he doesn’t know who I am.”
“There’s a chance he doesn’t know who he is, but miracles happen, Grey. Every day. Me not marrying Todd. You and I getting married. This.” She holds up her hand as blue liquid sprays everywhere.
“The Bruisers sports drink shower is not a miracle, Buttercup.”
Everly steps toward me, closing the space between us. She’s a bit taller in heels but still has to lift her chin to meet my eyes.
“I saw a photo of you and Princess in a photo album at the cabin. Bran was in the background. You don’t have any recent photos of him around, so I didn’t make the connection until the other day.”
“Because I lost him and couldn’t bear to—”
“No, I found him, and it looks like he needs you to help him find himself.”
“So you brought him here?”
“I reached out to Todd and asked him for Princess’s info to find out if she knew anything about the guy who trailed her on my wedding day.
Turns out he washed up on a Caribbean Island, didn’t know who he was or where he was but must’ve heard her doing her cruise ship routine as Princess Papaya, and that tripped something in his memory. ”
“Why didn’t she contact me? She met my brother once when he was on leave—took a trip to Barbados. That’s when that photo was taken. We saw her performance. But we look alike. Why wouldn’t she have—?”
“No offense, but I don’t think Princess is the most perceptive fruit in the bunch. I reckon if Bran was a Missing in Action soldier or escaped as a Prisoner of War, then he wasn’t looking quite himself either.”
I glance over at the man who was once a behemoth. Now he has shaggy hair, a bedraggled beard, and a tan like he’s been hitting Margaritaville hard for the last six months.
The harsh reality that he doesn’t know who I am or who he is hits me like a tackle from an opposing team. I’m thinking specifically of Garrison Wheeler from the Miami Riptide. The guy is a brick house of muscle.
“I asked Princess to give him the info for the event tonight if she could. I figured he’d show up, though I wasn’t expecting the rest of this motley crew.
Todd took advantage of the situation and Princess followed.
At the time, I thought it was the right thing to do, though, in retrospect, perhaps I should’ve arranged a private meeting. ”
I scrub my hand over my face. “I could probably use an escape to a remote island after this.”
“I know just the place.” Everly winks.
“Not the Caribbean.”
“Nope. A few clicks north, where there’s a beautiful cabin on a lake.”
“Now you’re speaking my language.”
“Go talk to your brother.”
“Thank you,” I say, kissing Everly on the forehead.
I brace myself, not sure what to expect as I approach the man who wears a bewildered expression, repeating “Princess Papaya,” like he’s not sure where he is, no less who he is.
I take to the field, ready to win no matter what I have to do for my brother.
“Bran?” I ask.
His eyes land on me and I search for a flash of recognition. “Bran,” he repeats.
“It’s me, your brother.” Emotion bubbles to the surface when he doesn’t answer.
He blinks slowly.
If he had a brain injury or experiences some type of amnesia, I’m guessing there’s a way to do this that doesn’t involve being in the middle of a food fight, but I need my brother right now. Likely, he needs me.
“Remember camping with Mom and Dad? That eagle would always fly overhead in the morning. You’d always talk about joining the Air Force—the logo for that branch of service has an eagle on it.
Well, you served bravely, heroically. Then you went missing.
We thought—” It feels like I’m breathing through a straw.
I can’t help it, I pull Bran in for a hug. Mom is going to be beside herself. Sonny gets to have an uncle.
“Bran,” I whisper. “If you’re in there. I need you right now, buddy. I don’t know how to do this.”
The metal of his dog tags that I’ve worn all this time press against my chest and I pull them out. “These are yours.”
He takes them in his hands and turns them over a few times. “Branson Adams,” he reads.
My eyes fill, hearing his voice. Mine shakes when I say, “That’s you. Branson Adams.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I fear he’s going to ask me who I am.