Brady Remington Landed Me in Jail

Then my grandmother stood firm once again. "Your momma wasn't a slut or whore. She wasn't like that and neither are you. You both just fell for the wrong men. I stand by what I said. And you need to stay away from Brady. He's not good for you."

I couldn't believe what I was seeing or what I was hearing. Everything I believed was a lie. I thought my mom was a certain way and now I found out that she wasn't? Then the room started to spin and I reached out for the wall too. I found a chest instead. From a distance I realized it was Grandpa when I heard his muffled voice, "You didn't need to say it like that, Vi."

"Look at her. She can't handle it."

Grandpa curled an arm around my shoulders and held me against him. "She's in shock. She'll need to hear the rest."

"She can't handle it all," my grandmother replied from a distance. She sounded regretful.

I tried to focus, but found everything starting to get blurry. A moment later, Grandpa Neil lifted me in the air and took me upstairs. When he laid me on my bed, I barely noticed anything. My eyes were open, but the only thing I saw was a picture. It was of Brady and me. Our arms were wrapped around each other. We'd been wrestling that day. Viola took out a camera and yelled at us to stop. We'd frozen in place, smiled, the camera flashed, and Brady flipped me over his back.

A tear slipped down my cheek as I stared at that picture. It had been taken last summer. Brady had graduated that morning and told me that he was going to stick around for another year. I'd been so happy because I wasn't going to lose him.

He'd been my rock. He had steadied me for so long, but everything was different now. I had a gut feeling it was only the beginning. It would get worse, much worse.

Then I heard his voice. "Hey."

I didn't react. My eyes were glued to the picture, but I felt him approach from the door. He sat on the side of my bed and took my hand. "I saw you drive by the café and came to get you, but what's going on? Viola's crying downstairs and baking at the same time. That can't be good. Your grandpa didn't even look at me. He's just sitting on the couch and staring at the television. There's some soap on. And now you…"

I rolled on my back and stared at Brady. He loomed above me. His tribal tattoo stood out on his arm underneath his sleeveless black shirt. I felt like it was shouting its existence at me. When I touched it, I grazed it with my nail.

"Why did you get this?"

He retrieved my hand. "Come on."

"You never told me."

He looked away. "There's a lot I don't tell you, Rayna."

"You told me once that you tell me everything."

"I lied." He hung his head.

"Everyone lies."

"Hey, come on." He twisted to look at me again, but I looked at that frame instead.

I mumbled, "I felt safe that day."

"What day?"

"I've never really felt safe, Brady, but I did that day because I knew you'd still be here. I'm not safe, though. I thought I could handle my last year, but things are so complicated. I never knew how complicated it could get, but it is. Everything is a lie. We all lie. I lie to you even."

Brady sat there for a couple of seconds in silence. Then he asked, "What do you lie to me about?"

"About how I feel about you. I lied to myself about how I've always felt about you." There. I'd let the cat out of the bag. He'd have to bite, but….I waited as my heart pounded.

Nothing.

Brady cleared his throat. "Is this all because of your mom?"

When I heard his answer, I closed my eyes and felt something tear inside of me. I rolled away from him until there was a foot between us.

"Viola told me that you're the wrong guy. I can't be around you anymore."

"What? Oh come on. What are you talking about? It's Kid that she doesn't want you around."

Frank Stephens could be my father. "I don't think Kid's a problem anymore."

"Rayna." Brady scooted close to me, but his legs didn't touch mine. He made sure. He didn't want to be too close. "What's going on with you? I feel like I'm losing you or something."

I looked at him finally and then sat up when I saw the nervousness in him. His blonde hair had been wetted down so it was a sharp contrast between dark and light, but his eyes were the best liars. He looked concerned, genuinely concerned, but I saw that he was hiding. When I looked closer and inspected him as he always seemed to inspect me, I saw that there was a lot there.

"What are you keeping from me?"

"Noth—," he started to lie, but stopped. "I keep some of my past from you. I don't tell anyone that stuff, Rayna. It doesn't mean anything about our friendship."

"Friendship," I said the word. It felt bitter in my mouth. "We are not just friends and I told you that I've been lying about my feelings. Why didn't you ask about my feelings?"