Page 76 of Losing Forever
“I still want it.”
She glances at a large canvas on the bed. That’s when I see it, the signature in the corner. A capital B with a squiggle and a fancy M.Braylee Miller.
“These are yours.”
She lowers her head and nods.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re an artist?”
“I’m not. Not anymore. This was the old me. BB. Braylee Before. BA, Braylee After, doesn’t paint.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t.” She shuffles around me to the closet and hangs up the clothes crumpled on the floor.
“Clearly, you can.” I gesture to the stacks of art on the bed, even though she isn’t looking at me.
“Not anymore.”
“Why not? You have a talent.”
“So do you,” she shoots back.
Touché.
“And I don’t have that kind of talent anymore.” She closes the closet doors.
“Maybe you just need to practice. I hurt my throwing arm a while back and needed physical therapy. It took some time for me to get my swing back, but I did, and it was better.”
“It’s not like that with me, Grayson.” She moves the sketchbook and box of pencils to her desk. “This is about my head injury. Some things don’t come back.”
I watch her straightening up her old life, her words slowly sinking in. My mind jumps to a memory of something similar that happened to a guy on Noah’s college football team. On the field, he got a bad head injury, which spiraled into a few seizures. After, he never got his kick back. No matter how much he practiced, his talent for kicking the ball as far and straight as before was gone.
I may not play ball anymore, but it’s not because I lost the talent. Once again, I’m reminded of how much Braylee has lost. If I were her, I wouldn’t get out of bed.
“I am so—” My words halt at the look she sends me, a mix of shock and betrayal.
“I don’t want your pity, Grayson. I get enough of it from everyone else.” She laughs, but her eyes fill with tears. “You were the one person who didn’t treat me that way.”
“I was going to say I am so in awe over you and how you handle yourself. I would be severely depressed, medicated, and no use to anyone. But you’ve found a way to go on, even when you have to deal with stuff like this.” I gesture to the house. “You might be the strongest person I know.”
Fear passes through her eyes, and she looks ready to cry.
Shit. How did I screwthisup?
27
Braylee
Tears pour from my eyes. For a moment, I thought he joined the pity fan club. Without realizing it, he’s become a source of strength for me. His wit, his egotism, his playfulness. The way he looks at me, the way he makes me and my body feel. I cherish it, adore it. I couldn’t stand it if he started looking at me the way Aunt Lina does—and everyone else.
To know I was wrong and to hear his words…
I race to him and hug his broad, muscular chest. Never could I have imagined he’d grow to mean this much to me, the boy with violet eyes and harsh criticism from the pool all those years ago.
I love you, I say in my head.I love you more than I thought possible, and I can never tell you.Because he’d run so fast and far, I’d lose him forever. He’s not ready to hear the wordlove,let alone accept it. He may never be, and I get it. I was there not that long ago. But Grayson helped me through it by making me feel beautiful and loved. He may not understand that’s what he’s done, but I see it, and I’ll be forever thankful.
With his big arms around me, his scent in my nose, his warm chest moving with his breath, and his lips on my hair, I can pretend we are more than friends who have sex. I can pretend we have a future, the same way I can pretend this house connects me to my family, and that without it, I’ll lose them again—this time, forever.
