Page 34 of Without You

“You’re correct, I did. Before we head down to my place, here are your keys. You’re welcome to move your stuff in whenever it works for you.”

“Most of it is still boxed up so it won’t be too hard. We’d already put the furniture in a storage pod and since I don’t need that, it’ll go quickly.”

“I can help,” he tells me as we go down the stairs that leads to the apartment. “I’ll call Johnny and Chad, too.”

Guiding me to his back door, he reaches around me to twist the knob, hand on my lower back.

“Honestly, Brody, y’all don’t have to do that.”

Entering through the door, we walk into the kitchen. The ugliest kitchen I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s so ugly, in fact, that it halts me in my steps. Brody looks over at me with a knowing grin. “What’s wrong?”

“Noth… nothing.”

Leaning down, so close I can feel his chest against my back, his lips graze my ear and he says, “Mm hmm. You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

I resist the urge to lean against him. “Nothing’s wrong. What would be wrong?”

The kitchen. That’s what’s wrong. The appliances are pea green. With the exception of the microwave which is technically white but has yellowed over time. The linoleum is chipped, cracked, and dingy. It appears it was white with pale blue flowers in the corner at one point in time, but now it’s just… not. The cupboards are metal. And the countertops? Well, they’ve definitely seen better days. I’m not even sure if it’s sanitary to be standing in here right now.

Though, to be fair, it doesn’t feel dirty so much as just… blech.

He moves about the hideous kitchen as if nothing is wrong. Like I claimed. However, he knows. There’s no way he doesn’t.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” I say, turning to him with wide eyes. He’s right. I’m a terrible liar. But I don’t want to offend him, either.

“Do ya now?”

He looks at me over his shoulder as he reaches a hand into the refrigerator that’s likely one of the first to ever be invented and pulls out a container of steaks.

“Feel free to walk around, see the rest of the house. I’ll just get the potatoes started.”

I hesitate because I’m not sure what to expect. The apartment is updated nicely. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s modern and definitely not from the sixties.

“Go on. My house won’t bite.” He grins and winks like he does and my stomach flutters like it always does whenever he winks at me.

I take one more look around the kitchen and then turn, walking forward and through the open doorway.

I stop short again.

I look back and see Brody grinning at the counter as he wraps foil around two potatoes.

The living room is fantastic. It’s masculine and sexy and exactly how I pictured Brody’s living room to look. A large deep chocolate brown leather couch with brass buttons on the arms. Two oversized chairs with matching ottomans on either side of the couch, simple wooden end tables stained in a walnut color beside the chairs on the couch side, all facing a stone wall with a fireplace, a large TV hanging above the fireplace.

Hanging on the wall behind the couch is a large black and white canvas photo of a man. I step closer and look a little harder and realize it’s a picture of Johnny Cash.

I study it for a few moments then move through the rest of the space. It’s average size and he has it decorated very simple. There’s a wall with some family pictures, also in black and white. One that makes me smile is of him with his parents when he was probably about eight years old. He looks like a mess, missing a couple teeth and dirty, proudly holding a fish in the air. His mom’s expression is hilarious — a cross between happy and disgusted — but his dad is smiling big, looking down at Brody rather than at the camera, his hand on his shoulder.

There are a few other pictures of people I don’t recognize. One of Brody, Johnny, and Chad together. Their arms around each other’s shoulders, ball caps on and looking every bit the country small town boys that they are.

Once I’ve inspected the living room as best as I can, I move down the hallway and peek in the bathroom. It’s also nicely done and updated. Simple and understated.

Across from the bathroom is what looks like a spare bedroom. I assume this because in the small room is a bed, nightstand, weight set, and rowing machine.

The wooden floor is stained, no surprise here, dark, and the comforter is bright white and navy blue stripes. Simple. Stylish. Classic.

I haven’t even made my way through the rest of the house and I am questioning his kitchen — more so than I already was, that is. It doesn’t fall in line with anything else I’m seeing and as hideous as it is — sorry, but it’s true — I would think he would have fixed it up right after he moved in here. If not before.

Another room is across the hall from the spare bedroom, this one clearly an office. And a very neat and tidy office, at that. There’s a laptop on the desk, lid closed. A black container with a handful of pens sitting next to it. There are a few pictures in frames on a credenza behind his desk. Of course I look closer. And of course, they’re of his own vehicles. Or… maybe just the vehicles he’s made all fancy like he does? I’m not sure, but they’re incredible. I pick up a picture of a deep burgundy pickup that I’m confident did not look the way it does here when it came off the factory line.

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