Page 20 of The Other Side

Brant’s interlocked fingers rest on the table. A tiny exhale supplements the gesture, and I brace for the blow. “Mom, she’s …” He drags out the last word, subtly wagging his head. “She’s not doing too great. She hasn’t been for the last couple years.”

His words whip a belt to my gut. My eyes find the stiffness in his hazel stare, and I force myself to cling to it. As devastating as it is to look him in the eyes right now, I owe him that much.

I owe his mother that much.

“When was the last time you’ve seen her?” I ask.

“I try to visit her once a month,” he answers carefully. “It’s tough with my work schedule, so there’re a couple months that go by before I’m back in Willowhart.”

His voice tapers, sorrow clawing its way out of the crate he’s trapped it in.

I know it.

“But I do try.” He’s tucking his lips as his eyes sink to the tabletop. Almost shamefully. “I swear I do.”

His last words unlatch a door on my heart, and my words slip out effortlessly.

Seamlessly.

Like a cherished pastime.

My palm lays over his cradled hands, my fingers instinctively hugging them. He’s large and so much rougher than I remember. So physically different in every way.

But he doesn’t flinch a centimeter from the contact.

“You can take me with you next time you go. I want you to know that,” I say.

His eyes dodge from mine when he slowly peels from my touch. He inhales as he straightens in his chair, tossing a flippant response. “For what? This isn’t exactly shocking information, Callie. It’s just karma from her shitty decisions in life. Let it go.”

I sit up, my gaze lurking about as I curl my hands around my seat. “Look, I know you’re just pissed at my offer, so I’ll wait until you’re cooled down to ask you.”

“That’s my answer,” he counters. “You don’t need to wait for me to cool down.”

My chin tips up, eyes locked and loaded on his to call him out. “You were pissed at my comment.”

He gently shakes his head, answering softly. “It doesn’t rub me the right way.”

I lightly scoff, wagging my head. My tongue prods the inside of my cheek when I avert my attention, and my eyes track the string of Edison bulbs and wood walls.

I’m masking the agony of the knife that penetrates my soul. “I guess I don’t really know how to respond to that,” I tell him.

“I don’t want you to lie to me,” he says. “Lie to my face, nonetheless.”

My gaze pinches, my focus returning to him. “What’re you talking about? I’m not lying.”

“Yeah?” he challenges, leaning forward while hitching a thumb over his shoulder. “You’re gonna jump in my pickup truck and travel back to Willowhart, Callie? That’s what you’re gonna do after ten years away from it? The place you despise more than anything on this planet? I guess I must’ve just missed you when I returned all those times for Mom, huh?”

I ingest a shaky breath, the hollow glint in his eyes begging me to listen instead of match his grudge. It would be so easy for me to unleash all my pent-up anger on him. I’m just as infuriated with him as he is with me, but this reunion is too goddamn sacred.

My brows slowly climb, and I lean in as I tell him, “I would go for you, and you know that.”

“Do I know you?” he rebuttals, his face unmoved.

The question raises my guard when his eyes drag to my left hand. Only to meet mine after.

A silent challenge.

Oh, I get it.