The following Friday the Bobcats lost their game, sending premature whispers among the town as to whether or not they’d actually make the playoffs. Blake hadn’t seemed worried, at least when Brandon had seen him after the game. Yeah, he’d been pissed at the three fumbles by various players. But he still had faith that his players could pull themselves together for the rest of the season. There were only two games left, so Brandon hoped they could too.
On Saturday, after the loss, Brandon had to get up early and take care of some business. Considering one of their projects was about to close, which they desperately needed the payout from, Brandon hadn’t balked at giving up his Saturday morning. By the time he’d finished punch lists and walk-throughs with clients, he was on his second travel mug of coffee. When he’d left the house at seven that morning, Matt had still been asleep but Brandon needed some time to talk to him. Trish hadn’t called back since her last phone call about clueing Matt in. And Brandon hadn’t had time to speak with him.
Correction: Brandon had been putting it off.
The subject matter was a slippery one, and he’d been spending the past week pondering how to broach the topic. There was no telling how Matt would react and Brandon needed to be prepared for anything. And he needed to get a move on before Trish took matters into her own hands and broadsided Matt with the announcement.
Brandon pulled into his driveway and downed the last of his coffee. The stuff had gone cold, but the caffeine was too precious to waste. He was just getting out of the truck when his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and tried to settle his heart when Stella’s name flashed on the screen.
“Hi,” he greeted as he stepped out of the truck and shut the door.
“Hi,” she answered back with a soft voice.
Brandon’s steps faltered when Stella didn’t say anything else. He shoved his car keys in his pocket. “Stella?”
“Yeah, sorry. I just…” He heard her expel a breath. “I forgot to tell you before that I worked things out with my mom.”
Brandon grinned as he opened the front door and was greeted by Duke. He gave the dog’s ears a brief scratch before heading to the kitchen. “I’m glad to hear that.” Was that all he could say? “Are you two all right now?”
“Yeah,” Stella said with a sigh. “We talked over a loaf of homemade bread. She even made apple butter to go with it.”
Brandon opened the fridge and took out leftover roasted chicken. “Thought your mom wasn’t much of a cook?”
Stella laughed, which set his teeth on edge because he wanted to be near her. He wanted to see the laughter light up her eyes. “She’s not. I guess she was feeling adventurous.” She paused a moment. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you.”
“For what?”
“Just for being there and listening. I didn’t take the time to tell you before and I felt bad.”
“You don’t need to feel bad, Stella. I was just doing what anyone else would have done,” Brandon answered. He tucked his cell phone between his shoulder and ear as he unwrapped aluminum from the chicken.
“Did you?” she questioned. “Are you saying you could have been anyone sitting with me and holding my hand while I cried about my shitty childhood?”
Well, when she put it that way…Yeah, Brandon supposed she was right.
No, he knew she was right. What he didn’t know was why he was trying to downplay the whole thing. He’d be an idiot not to know the moment they’d had and how the intimacy had brought them to another level.
He blew out a breath and closed his eyes. “Stella.” He pictured her lying on her bed, hair spread out beneath her, bare legs tangled in cotton sheets. “You’re welcome,” he said instead of asking her what she was wearing. Because how wrong would that have been? Here she was thanking him for a profound moment, and all he could do was think about her in bed.
“I have a class in a few minutes, so I have to go,” she told him.
“Okay.”
So why wasn’t he hanging up? Or why hadn’t she?
“Bye, Brandon.” The soft click in his ear was like a gunshot to the chest.
Brandon resumed his lunch preparation as Duke ambled up behind him, trying to put Stella’s soft voice from his mind. And his need for her. He turned and tossed a piece of chicken in the dog’s direction. But Duke wasn’t the quickest bullet in the gun and the chicken landed on the floor.
“Gotta be faster than that, boy,” Brandon commented.
Duke eventually found the meat and lapped it up. Then he sat and wagged his tail back and forth across the floor.
“No more,” Brandon told him. Duke’s ears perked up and his head tilted. “You’re already spoiled.” He gave the dog another ear rub. “Where’s Matt?” Brandon asked as though Duke could answer. “He was supposed to feed you this morning.”
When Duke didn’t answer because, yeah, he was a dog, Brandon left the kitchen in search of his son. Matt had never been a real late sleeper and rarely ever spent his Saturdays in bed or even holed up in his room. He was either out with friends or with Adrienne.
The fact that Matt hadn’t appeared yet left Brandon wondering if he was feeling all right.
The hallway leading to the bedrooms was quiet. Almost too quiet?
Had he left?
No, Matt wouldn’t have gone anywhere without texting Brandon where he was going. He’d taught his son to be more responsible than that.
Matt’s bedroom door was closed, so Brandon knocked. “Matt?” he called when no answer came.
Was that a muffled response? Brandon pushed the door open and stepped inside. The blinds were still closed, preventing sunlight from penetrating the dark interior. The bed was an unmade mess with the comforter hanging halfway off the bed and one pillow on the floor by the nightstand. Matt was seated on the floor, leaning against the footboard and cradling his cell phone. His hair was still untamed from sleep and he’d yet to change from the basketball shorts he usually wore to bed.
“Hey,” Brandon greeted from the doorway. “You want some leftover chicken for lunch?”
Matt stared at his cell phone while turning it over in his hands. “Sure,” was his muttered response.
Brandon eyed his slumped posture and the fact that he’d yet to look Brandon’s way. “Everything all right?” he asked his son.
Matt only shrugged.
Okay, then. “Did you get into a fight with Adrienne?”
“No.”
Great. One-word answers. Matt had never really been the typical sullen teenager. But he was sure as shit putting new definition to that term now.
Brandon leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s going on, Matt? Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Matt still didn’t look up from his phone. “I think you already know.”
Brandon narrowed his eyes. “What’re you…” His words trailed off as it hit him like a kick to the midsection. “Your mom called you, didn’t she?”
Matt sniffed and nodded.