Page 63 of Brash for It
Honesty is how he functions.
Brash, brutal, and real.
I won’t give him less than what he gives me.“Yes,” I mutter, equally quiet, closing the space between us.“I’m still here.I’m gonna stay right here.”
Something in his face fractures and reorganizes—pain, relief, shame, all of it passing through like a hurricane filled with wind, thunder, lightning, rain, and tornadoes.He nods again, like that hurts more than his knuckles, and steps away from Brian without offering a last word.That might be the meanest thing he’s ever done—denying the man any more attention.
We walk to the SUV together.By then his brothers have come to a stop and climbed off their bikes.
Behind us, Brian finds his voice enough to spit, “Animal.”
Neither of us turns.
It’s Crunch who approaches us first as Red takes off landing his own licks in on Brian for calling his brother an animal.
“Paper trail,” I direct to Kellum, and it’s partly to remind myself who I am, partly to remind Kellum who we are.“We go home.We write everything down.We save the voicemails.We file a report first thing.We let Tripp and the brothers handle him now in case there’s blowback in the dumb places.”
Kellum swallows.“Yeah.”
“You got this, Kristen?”Crunch asks letting me guide the situation.
“Yes, I have him.”I look to Kellum.“I always have him.”
“Baby brother, take your ass home, clean up.We’ll handle this shit head.No blow back for you or Kristen.But clean up before mom gets wind of this shit.You know you’re the favorite.”Crunch shoves him playfully.
This makes me smile in the chaos.
I pause with my hand on the SUV door, then lean in and use the hem of my shirt to wipe Kellum’s cheekbone where Brian’s open palm left a bloody smear on him.“He doesn’t get to mark you or me, baby,” I whisper.
The cold air kisses the damp spot and he flinches just a little.His eyes close.He breathes out a sound that isn’t a laugh and isn’t pain.When he opens them again, he looks like my man—wrecked, wired, sorry, present, and intense.
A Hellion top to toe.
“Ride with me?”he requests, hoarse.“I don’t want to be alone.”
“Yes,” I nod, no pause.I shut the SUV door, toss the keys to Tommy Boy, and climb on behind him like my legs know what to do better than my brain does.My hands find his waist.He leans back into them for a second like a man leaning into a dock to feel if it will hold.Neither of us have a helmet but right now if this is how we die, we die together and I can say I would be dying happier than I’ve been in my entire life.
We leave Brian to his porch and the lesson he’s about to get from the Hellions.They will give him the story to his injuries.The road out of that neighborhood is too smooth, too manicured.When we hit the real street, the bumps feel like life.
Reality is rough, pretend is smooth.I’ll take the real any day over the presentation of something good.
I don’t talk.He doesn’t either.We ride without music, without the helmet tap I usually give at the bridge, without anything but the knowledge that we are outrunning the worst version of ourselves, not the law.The air scrapes the anger off my skin like sandpaper—rough, necessary.My cheek finds his the divot between his shoulder blades..He reaches back once, halfway through a light, and touches my knee, brief, proof I’m still with him.
At home, the camera blinks red.I wonder if it saw me run out of the house.I wonder if later I’ll watch the play back and recognize the moment it became clear as day.He rides out for me, I’m riding for him.We’re in this together.
The kitchen still smells like lemon and the house still holds the shape of us.We stand in the doorway like two people who are trying to find solid footing together again.
“I’m sorry,” he begins first, voice scraping.“I’m I know better.I just?—”
“You warned him,” I interrupt, because it’s true and because truth is what we are.
“I did.”He looks down at his hands again like they betrayed him.“I saw your face and that’s not okay warning or not.”
“I’m not scared of you,” I reassure, and I mean it enough that it surprises me.“What you saw isn’t my fear of you.There is nothing in you that will ever hurt me Kellum.I know that.I’m scared of losing you.To prison.To a judge who doesn’t care why.To a version of you that thinks we beat back a problem with fists without consideration for the consequences.”
He nods.“Consequences aren’t really something I think about unless I’m dishing them out.”
“I know.”I move close, because distance helps no one right now.I take his hands because someone should.They’re warm, rough, trembling in the way rage leaves a body—late, sheepish.“Tomorrow morning, I’m gonna go for the protective order.If Brian doesn’t get the message from you and the Hellions, then he gets it the legal way.His contact with me is done.His connection to me is gone.We cover all our bases.”
