Alex (Cold Fury Hockey, #1)(12)
“Can’t have an Xbox without games to play, right?” I tell him.
Glenn doesn’t even bother unwrapping the gifts to see what I’ve gotten him; rather, he flies out of his chair and throws his arms around my waist, pressing his head onto my shoulder…because yeah, he’s gotten that tall.
“Thanks, Sutton. You’re the best sister ever.”
“Damn straight I am,” I tell him while laughing, and then squeeze him even tighter.
***
I watch my family all hop into Jim-Dad’s big work truck, then wave at them as they pull out of my driveway. They have at least a thirty-minute drive ahead of them to make it to their little abode across town, and I have a kitchen to clean up.
Walking back into my house, I realize I’m still riding high on watching Glenn fly over the moon, proclaiming this to be his best birthday ever. Amped up on his joy, I tackle the dishes and wipe down the counters, reminiscing over the evening with a soft smile on my face. I give a quick swipe with my broom to the old linoleum floor —which is my next upgrade project—and finish my duties by taking the garbage out.
Finally, I’m able to pour myself a glass of cabernet sauvignon and pad into the living room—my sanctuary. After taking a small sip of my wine, I set it on the coffee table and flop down onto the big, fluffy cushions of my couch. Sinking into its comfort, I take a moment to appreciate the pale blue walls I painted myself and admire how they complement the dark hardwood floors with a calming serenity. My eyes roam the room, briefly touching on the various framed photographs—some rest on the side tables, others are hanging on the walls, and still more swamp the mantel of the fireplace. These are pictures of all the people who are most important in my life, and they truly make this not just a “living room” but a “family room.”
Kicking my feet up onto the couch, I study my toenails, which I just painted a steel blue color the other day. In fact, I notice with lazy interest, they sort of match my couch, which is done in a floral pattern of blues and yellows. While I have to wear professional clothes during the day, I like getting by with touches of crazy that can’t be seen while I’m in counselor mode. So that means unconventionally colored nail polish and naughty lingerie, neither of which is seen by anyone but me at the current time. Not that I mind.
I mentally giggle to myself, wondering what Brandon would think of my blue nail polish. I’m quite positive he’d wrinkle his nose up at it, proclaiming that it’s not professional.
Sighing, I lean my head back against the couch pillow and close my eyes. My date with Brandon is tomorrow night. At least, I think it’s a date. I meant to clarify that with him when he first called me earlier in the week, but then forgot because I had gotten sidetracked during the conversation by his natural charm.
“Sutton?” I had heard Brandon’s voice when I answered my phone, a tad tentative but clear as a bell.
“Brandon? Is that you?” I asked in disbelief, because in a million years I had not expected his call.
“Yes,” he said exuberantly. “I was watching our movie last night before I went to bed, and it made me all nostalgic, so I told myself when I woke up today I was going to give you a call and check in on you.”
Our movie? He was watching Zombieland and it made him nostalgic for me?
“So, tell me what you’ve been doing with your life,” Brandon urged me, and then blew me away when he said, “Knowing you, I’m sure you’ve been extremely successful.”
I can’t lie…his words of pride and confidence in me are what got me sidetracked. The way he sounded so happy to hear my voice, and the way he had been thinking about me just from watching a movie. It’s as if our time apart melted into nothingness, and we chatted away like old friends.
Yes, we had promptly fallen into old times, talking about this and that, and all the things that each of us had been doing over the last year while we had been apart.
Yes, apart.
Brandon had been the love of my life…or so I had thought. We met our freshman year in college at N.C. State University in a mathematics study group that he helped tutor. He was in the engineering program and was pretty freakin’ brilliant when it came to math. I was pursuing an arts degree—sociology—and I basically sucked at math.
It took less than two months for Brandon to go from tutor to friend to good friend to boyfriend to lover. We clicked right off the bat and spent a lot of time together. There was an underlying mutual attraction that just kept getting stronger and stronger the more time we spent with each other.
By our sophomore year, we were in love and making plans to spend the rest of our lives together. He was everything I had desired in a boyfriend and potential husband. Smart, kind, caring, considerate, attentive, successful, upstanding…all the things antithetical to my birth dad.
The list could go on and on. Brandon was made up of one long list of commendable virtues and it was just so easy to love him. Hell, even when he broke up with me, he was f*cking commendable and lovable.
Now, I’d heard of the old “I want to sow my wild oats” speech before. Even met a few girls who had suffered through it. I just never thought I’d be the one to get it, though. And Brandon, when he laid it out to me—told me he wanted to be with other women—did it in such a kind and caring way, I was nodding my head in agreement with him by the time he was finished.