Page 43 of I Think They Love You

“What about your old UGA teammates?”

They were Braylon’s little Athens family. Somehow, even when he was the youngest in the group, he was always the big brother type, watching over each of them.

“Haven’t kept in touch,” Braylon says.

“Your roommate? Ben? Bryce?”

“Brent.”

“What about him?”

“He barely said goodbye when we moved out of the dorms,” Braylon notes. “I bet he’s somewhere in Boston or Nashville. Chugging iced coffees. Living his best finance-bro life.”

“So, there’s… no one?”

The café’s music switches over to something slow, somber. Braylon’s expression matches it. He swirls the last of his tea, never drinking.

Denz’s next question comes out before he’s thought it through:

“Who came to your dad’s funeral?”

An emptiness flashes over Braylon’s eyes. He blinks, resetting. “Dad’s old colleagues. Neighbors. Loads of people who brought so many casseroles and cakes and—”

“Braylon,” Denz interrupts, “who was there foryou?”

The question silences Braylon. Like he’s never thought about it. Never given himself permission to.

“Who was supposed to be there?” Braylon counters.

“I don’t know. Didn’t your mom have a sister?”

“Who lives inSweden,” Braylon reminds him. “Besides, she stopped being close to Dad a few years ago. She called, at least.”

“No one else?”

Denz can’t imagine. His family is huge, on both sides. When his grandparents died, he couldn’t walk five feet without someone to hug him or brush his hair, let him sob on their shoulder.

“I didn’t have—” Braylon stops. “It doesn’t matter.”

Somewhere in those three words, Denz thinks he’s saying,You weren’t there so why do you care?

It’s probably not true. That doesn’t make the thought go away.

“Only Jamie knows,” he repeats.

“Only Jamie,” Braylon confirms, nodding.

Denz is tempted to ask Braylon to finish his thought from a minute ago. What didn’t he have?Whodidn’t he have? But that’s not fair. Braylon doesn’t owe him anything from that time in his life.

Just like Denz doesn’t owe him anything from the last five years.

The sun’s warm on Denz’s cheek outside Crema. He lingers on the sidewalk while Braylon orders something to-go at the front counter. His thumb scrolls through his notifications, purposely ignoring the family group chat. His attention keeps returning to the photo he posted. Their hands look so natural.

Believable.

That’s confirmed when a new comment from Auntie Cheryl pops up: five heart-eye emojis and a ridiculous number of exclamation points.

Braylon steps outside, holding a paper bag. “Sorry. Whit, my coworker, is a total badass. She’s also quite grumpy if you show up empty-handed after going out for lunch.”

---