Page 105 of The Other Side

Just like she said he would.

My heart lunges for him. Not just to grant him serenity from all the mayhem I missed in our time apart, but to reside in him. Because after all the paths and turns I traveled to escape this trailer park, there’s no place like him.

He’s warmth.

Light. Color. Shelter.

The perfect home.

I tangle my fingers in front of my lower belly, a smile tugging on my mouth. “I’m so proud of you, Mrs. Beckett.”

Brant’s mom flashes an appreciative grin, and then she’s turning toward the couch. “If you’re proud of that, you should look at this blanket I crocheted.”

I follow behind her, my delight spreading when she plucks the throw blanket off the back of the sofa. My lips part as she spins to me, my fingers stroking the ivory shell patterns across the beige yarn. “You made this?”

“I gotta do something to curb my appetite for alcohol,” she jokes.

My lips seal, reluctant to laugh.

But her confession provides me solace. Knowing that she’s healing. Knowing that some weight can be lifted from Brant’s shoulders.

“This is wonderful. I love it.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, traveling the blanket back to its original location.

When she drapes it over the rear of the couch, my palms greet my lower back. I peek left, and an assortment of pill bottles is parked on the laminate kitchen counter.

My stomach tenses hastily. There must be at least ten amber, cylindrical containers. I wonder if Brant’s mom takes all of those in a single day. I know cirrhosis requires a multitude of medications, but I’m not sure how often the doses are.

“It’s almost eight o’clock. What did you want to do for dinner, Ma?”

Our heads turn to Brant as he emerges from the narrow hallway. He’s lifting his backward snapback to brush a hand through his hair.

Mrs. Beckett raises her hands. “I don’t know,” she answers, looking my way. “Pizza? Greek?”

I nod, flicking my gaze to Brant as he waits for my approval. “Works for me. I’m fine with either.”

Chapter 31

Brant

The bathroom door closes with Callie inside. Mom steps beside me at the kitchen sink before she speaks.

“I can clean a few plates.”

“I never said you couldn’t,” I answer, rinsing the dish under the lukewarm water. “I’m here. Go relax on the couch,” I push. “That’s the only thing you should be worried about.”

Mom quiets down, leaning her lower back against the counter. She tucks her hair behind her ears, her attention swerved in the opposite direction. “Callie’s just as lovely as I remember.”

My lip spasms as I wedge the plate in the drainboard. Then I’m lathering a drinking glass with the soapy sponge. “We lost touch for ten years. It’s wild to think how easily we reconnected.”

“No.” Out of the corner of my eye, my mom wags her head. It surprises me, but I drop the sponge to focus on rinsing the cup. “It’s not wild at all. You were smitten with her since day one.”

I squint at my mom, shedding a smirk. “You remember?”

Her face falls with remorse as she holds my gaze. “I know I didn’t remember a lot of things, Brant.” Our stares lock as her words reveal the dark truth about our relationship. A reality neither of us can erase. “But there’s no way I could forget that.”

Momma’s eyes sprinkle with tears. Her gaze is unmoving as she waits for a tongue lashing. Prepared for me to unleash all the pent-up anger I have yet to spring on her.