Page 87 of Quiet Protector
He could have never predicted what would happen. I was cautious of Madden, yet I still struggle comprehending why he took it as far as he did.
Brandon lost his brother.
So did I.
Once again, blood isn’t thicker than water.
There’s only one thing we didn’t experience together.
Brandon lost me.
I never lost him.
I tried to replace him. I tried to live without him, but I never truly lost him. He was always there, protecting my six as he’d been taught, but while he was doing that, who was protecting him?
Could you imagine going through everything Brandon has been through the past eight years and not having anyone there to support and comfort you? I tried, but in all honesty, I only ever saw things from my side.
That was wrong of me. So very wrong.
Brandon pledged to protect me. He vowed to keep me safe, but he wasn’t the only one who made that pledge.
So did I.
It was before the crazy butterflies started taking flight in my stomach. Before friends’ prolonged gawks made my skin green with jealousy. And long before we made things official in a way that was remarkably mature for how young we were.
We were only eight when we said our vows, but the words I spoke that day were the most honest I’ve ever spoken. Brandon was my friend, my light,my everythingbefore he wasevermy boyfriend. So, although my ego was bruised and my confidence faltered, for once in my life in that dark, cold room, I remembered the pledges I had made to Brandon instead of the ones he’d made to me.
He needs me. There’s no doubt about that. If that’s only as a friend, I’m okay with that. Our relationship was perfect before we became boyfriend and girlfriend, and it will be perfect years after.
I’ll make sure of it because my parents didn’t just teach me how to be strong, they showed me what love really looks like. It is ugly, it is messy, and it can be cruel, but if it is given to the right person, it can be the most fulfilling thing you’ll ever do in your life.
38
Melody
Iprick my ears to ensure Brandon is still in the shower before pacing to the front door of his apartment to see who’s knocking. I won’t lie, my steps are sluggish and weighed down even with our intervention being staged a little over five weeks ago. The first night was the hardest. It was rough pushing Brandon over the edge instead of guiding him off the ledge, but Grayson and I didn’t have much choice. If we didn’t force Brandon to crack, we may have lost the chance to piece him back together.
I was never going to let that happen.
Not in a million years.
I had wondered during our days at the ranch if Brandon was depressed. He was more reserved than usual and somewhat withdrawn. Since he was an adult instead of the teen I once knew, I blamed the seven-year gap in our friendship for not being able to read him as I once could. In reality, I was scared. Scared of pushing him away, scared of being alone, and scared to face the truth that I still loved the man whose brother raped me.
The last revelation was the hardest for me to overcome. I took Brandon’s rejection personally instead of assessing what it was really about. He wasn’t rejecting me, his head wasn’t even in the room with us that night. He was rejecting the pain eating him whole, swallowing it down as he had been taught.
My dad was a brilliant, protective man, but he had his faults. Teaching Brandon and me to bottle up our emotions was one of his downfalls. He taught us it’s okay to be brave, to fight for what we believe in, and never give up no matter how bad the odds, but he didn’t tell us it’s okay to cry, to ask for help, and to admit when you’re drowning.
Thank God the love my mother showered my father with ensured I learned those things without extensive training. My father believed he had hurt her, he took blame for what had happened to her, yet she loved him with everything she had. She never blamed him, not once. She loved him unconditionally as I do Brandon. That’s why it wouldn’t have mattered how rough it got, I bunkered down for the long haul, and I’ll continue being here for as long as Brandon needs me.
When I peek through the peephole in Brandon’s front door, my heart flutters out an extra beat. Grayson is standing on the other side. His visits have been scarce the past five weeks. He hasn’t gone back undercover. I just asked him and Phillipa to steer clear of Brandon’s apartment until I could work my magic. I didn’t know at the time exactly what my magic would entail. I just knew Brandon well enough to know he’d rather it occur without an audience.
We’ve done pretty much nothing the past five weeks. We ate in every night, watched movies, we even recommenced our Monopoly championship. It still caused us to snicker at each other as we did in the footage my dad captured of us when we were seven. It wouldn’t be so bad if Brandon didn’t always buy-up Boardwalk and Park Place. Without fail, I land on the damn things every time I circle the board.
When we were kids, our game always ended with me tossing up the board and storming off to sulk. Although my dramatics weren’t quite as bad this time around, I’m ashamed to admit the sulk-fest still occurred.
It wasn’t all bad. That night was the first time Brandon laughed in almost a week. It wasn’t his full-hearted laugh, and it was quickly killed by Dr. Avery, Brandon’s counselor, doing a house call to check up on him, but it was perfect.
I don’t know if it was the words Dr. Avery spoke during their forty-five-minute session, or the fact Brandon accepted my offer to stop sleeping on the couch by sharing his humongous bed, but whatever it was, things changed for us that night. We still act as if the other has cooties when we stuff pillows between us, but the tension that was there the first night all but eradicated last night.
