Wherever It Leads(4)

“Well, he’s a homeless guy with a voice like cashmere,” she chirps, hopping behind the steering wheel. “And if he looks half as good as he sounds, I’ll happily sprawl out like a reward buffet.”



The early afternoon sun trickles through the car window sending a kaleidoscope of colors through the crystal dangling from the rearview mirror.

The warmth permeates not just the glass, but my skin as well. The Vitamin D soaks into my soul and reminds me of lazy days at the beach and picnics. None of those things have happened much this summer. The last true beach day I had was with Presley the afternoon I found Grant cheating on me.

“Brynne.” He said my name simply, like he was just sounding it out. The calmness in his voice was a strange contradiction to the anxiety in his eyes. He made no move to get off the woman lying underneath him. Naked. Smirking at me with her bright red lips.

“What are you doing?” I shrieked, my hand cupping my mouth to keep the vomit from pouring out. My hand trembled as I watched, in absolute horror, him actually pulling out of her body.

I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the train wreck in front of me. Grant reached up and grabbed a towel and tossed it haphazardly over her body. My vision was blinded by white-hot tears that built, yet failed to fall.

“What are you—” I started to say, but then stopped. “Don’t answer that.”

Grant rolled off of her, but didn’t come to me. He made no effort to console me or try to talk his way out of it, not that it would’ve made a difference.

“Fuck you,” I bit out.

“This is complicated,” he said finally, his voice still eerily calm.

I snorted. “No, it’s really simple. You are the most pathetic * I’ve ever known.”

I turned on my heels and fled. He didn’t call for me and I didn’t look back.

Little did I know, but that day was the start of so much sadness in my life.

“Wanna go to the beach today after we get your phone back?” Presley asks, pulling me out of my reverie and picking up on my beach vibe. “We could just do a quick little trip this afternoon. It could be fun.”

My shoulders rise and fall, the magenta tank top slipping off my shoulder. The sun warms it and I find myself leaning further into the light. Something about the way the sun raises my spirits, like it’s done since I was a little girl and would lie on the hill behind our house and read magazine after magazine, makes me realize one thing—Presley is right. I can’t start down the slippery slope of self-pity again. It’s easy to fall into the trap but harder than hell to climb out of it.

Glancing over my shoulder, Presley is dancing in her seat to the beat of a song on the radio. I really want to capture that feeling again of being alive and happy about it. I just need something to set the spark.

“Yeah, let’s go to the beach later,” I say. The words feel good coming out of my mouth. So good, in fact, that I sit up in my seat. “Let’s get some cheap wine and Mexican food and see what kind of trouble we can get into.”

“Deal!” she beams. “And how about Tybee Island? Are you up for that?”

“I actually work this week,” I groan. “And I can’t miss. I can’t ask my parents for help with my tuition this fall. They’ve spent so much on finding my brother that I just can’t even bring it up.”

“I understand.”

“I might have a few days off next week, though, if you want to treat me to a mini-getaway.”

“Yay!” she exclaims, piloting the car down a side street. “I’m taking this as a sign my best friend’s back.”

“I’m trying.”

“You know,” she says, flipping off the radio, “Brady wouldn’t want you moping around. He’d want you to live your life and be happy.”

“He does want that,” I correct, trying not to cringe. “He does. Because he’s alive.”

“Of course he is.”

I can’t help the fear that pierces me that the reverse might be true. Or at least possible.

Although Presley is my best friend now, Brady and I have always been extremely close. We changed schools three times growing up and were always seen as outsiders. So we learned to hang out together, playing chess and video games, fishing, reading books. My world wouldn’t be the same without him, and the weeks since getting the message that he was taken by Nekuti, an African terror organization, have been the worst of my entire life. I just wish he’d have listened to me.

“Don’t go,” I begged, looking into the eyes that are a mirror image of mine. “Brady, you can’t. It’s not worth the risk.”

“I have to. I feel like it’s exactly what I need to do.”

“Why Zimbabwe? Why go there? With Grant, of all people! Someone that you specifically told me to try to distance myself from!”

“It’s different.”

“How?” I stare at him over our mugs of steaming coffee. “You told me not to take him back. You’re the one that told me something was going on with him and that ending our relationship was the best solution. So why are you still friends with him? Even more, if what you say is true, why are you following him across the world? For once in your life, Brady Stewart Calloway, you make no sense.”

“He’s not a threat to me, Brynne. I’ve been friends with him for almost ten years. He’s the same guy to me. But like I told you, something’s off with him. You’re my little sister and were his girlfriend. You were in a much different position to be hurt.”