Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“I was happy. I knew how proud Brady was.”
I reached over, put my arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. I kissed his temple before pulling back…and I wondered if my parents would be proud of me.
24
Sean
I liked that Ethan got to see me in my old karate robe and belt.
It was a moment in my life I was really proud of. I figured it was kind of dumb for a guy in his early thirties to be so proud of something kind of silly, but that part of my life would always be special to me, especially because of how it reminded me of Brady.
Ethan’s gaze wandered like his thoughts were elsewhere.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked. He didn’t reply before I blurted out, “Your mom and dad?”
It was a guess, but I could totally understand why he would be thinking about them when I was talking about my brother, considering his parents definitely reminded me of my own situation with Brady.
His eyes widened like he was surprised and then he nodded.
“I guess when people you love leave too soon,” he said, “you can’t help but wonder if they’re looking on from somewhere, if they would like the life that they see.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Ethan,” I said, trying to soothe him. “Considering the life you’ve built for yourself, I’m sure they’re very proud. I just hope that as they’re looking, they know when they need to turn away.”
He chuckled, and I was glad I was able to shake him out of his serious state.
“I’m sure they do,” he added.
As I looked into his eyes, I felt a connection—much deeper than I’d felt when we’d first started talking to each other about the people we’d lost. It seemed to be a product of everything we’d shared—the hurt, the fun, the laughs. I kissed him, and he kissed back. With each kiss, it was as though we were coming to know each other better and better. More about each other’s lives, more about each other’s bodies.
There was something in me that made me feel like I should have been throwing up my defenses, but I resisted the impulse—something that was easy to do when my lips were locked with Ethan’s.
“Sean,” Dad’s voice came from behind us, and as soon as we turned, he reached the top of the stairs and stopped, glaring at us. “Don’t forget our rules. No locked doors.” A grin overtook his face as he apparently took pride in his joke.
“And here you were blaming Mom for being the reason I don’t bring people over,” I teased.
Dad approached and slung an arm over Ethan’s shoulder. “Well, I’m not going to let you hog your new friend all afternoon. Come on, Ethan. I got some friends I want you to meet.”
He pulled him toward the stairwell. “You watch any football?”
“A little.”
“You a Raiders fan?”
“Eh…more a Rams fan.”
“Oh, thank God. I always said, ‘I can live with having a bi kid, but a Raiders fan is a whole other story.’ ” He turned back to me as they reached the stairs. “Just kidding. You know I love you, Sean.”
That was one of the wonderful things about my parents. There were no two people who I could have imagined ever being so generous with their love—so willing to tell me how much they cared about me and supported my life choices at any given time.
I knew Brady felt the same way about them when he was alive, considering they’d been that way when we were little. But since my brother passed away, Mom and Dad’s reminders and demonstrations of their love had intensified as had mine—surely because we all knew how quickly we could lose the ones we cared about.
I turned back to the picture of me and Brady wrestling.
Pleasant as the reminder of his memory was, with it came the vivid image of him lying in a hospital bed.
I shook my head as though that would shake the image from my thoughts.
Of course, that never worked.
I went downstairs, planning to join the party in the backyard. I needed to meet and greet some of the neighbors, but I also wanted to keep Dad from harassing Ethan too much. When I walked through the kitchen, I caught Mom transferring a casserole from one dish into another over the sink. The dish was clearly too heavy for her, so I went over and grabbed it, asking, “What are you doing?”
“One of those Bentley kids spilled some baked beans into the broccoli casserole, so I need to put it in another dish. I was going to ask your dad to help me, but he’s busy showing off your future fiancé to the neighbors.”
“Not my future fiancé,” I said through my teeth as I glanced out the garden window behind the sink.