Page 43 of Tripped By Love
I hadn’t really reciprocated when he’d asked about my life. Did I have a girlfriend? No. Did I miss my parents? No, they're dead. Did I miss the military? No. What was there to say to all of those things without tearing at wounds that I’d carefully healed.
“What did Cassidy tell you?” I asked.
“Nothing. That she felt bad for you and your family and what you were going through. You told me your parents were dead,” he said. The hurt leaked into his voice again.
“They are. She was talking about my foster mom, Maliyah. She was in the hospital.”
It was quiet again as Brady took that in. “Did you think I’d judge you because you were a foster kid?”
“No,” I responded automatically. Brady was the most down-to-earth celebrity I’d ever met. He didn’t judge. Maybe because he’d been on the receiving end of it enough for his flirtatious ways, a highly criticized third album, and by a mom who thought he was irresponsible.
“So, why the big secret?” Brady pushed.
Because talking about any of it tears open all my wounds, was what I wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead, I offered different words that were also true. “No secret. I just didn’t want you to try and shove me out of the house during the holidays, which you would have if you had known about Maliyah and Jonas. They didn’t need me to be there for them.”
“And I did?”
“You need someone you can trust with you at those moments.”
“I’d never want you to sacrifice your loved ones for me.”
“Exactly my point,” I said.
After another moment of quiet, he asked, “Who’s Jonas?”
“My foster brother, so to speak. He came back with me from Austin.”
“He’s here in Grand Orchard? When do I get to meet him?” he asked.
I gave a half chuckle. “I’ll bring him by the studio tomorrow. But I have to be honest, once he sees it, he’s probably not going to want to leave. He’ll likely ask you a thousand and one questions.”
“He’s a musician?” Brady asked, surprised.
“I think that’s probably too strong of a word for it. He fiddles with a guitar, but he likes music in general.”
“He’s welcome anytime,” Brady insisted.
“I appreciate that.”
“How is…Maliyah, is it?”
“She’s going to be okay. She’s recovering from an issue with her heart and a minor stroke. She’ll be in rehab most of the summer, which is why Jonas came back with me.”
“How old is he?”
“Sixteen.”
“The angst years,” Brady joked, and I laughed.
“That’s the perfect word for him right now.”
Brady chuckled, said goodbye, and it wasn’t until we’d hung up that I realized I’d been able to escape the discussion about Cassidy. Brady would realize it also, and it meant I’d better have an answer that dripped off my tongue when he asked again, but the truth was, I didn’t have one. I knew what it should have been: a resounding, “Nothing.” But even after knowing how wide the gap between our lives was growing, I found it almost impossible to stay away.
