Page 33 of All The Way Under

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

saylor

Catherine looks up from bandaging a cut on Brody’s leg to meet my gaze. Her lips are in a firm, annoyed line, but her eyes are mirthful.

“But, like, maybe the tenth beer before the jet ski ride wasn’t the best idea,” she says, trying to get Brody to admit his fault. “Right?”

Good luck, I think.

Brody’s eyes are hooded and bloodshot. We’ve been having fun all afternoon, and now we’re sitting around the fire pit with rose hip tea and a man waxing poetic about where the leaves came from.

“Beer is never a mistake, Cat. You cannot make me say otherwise.”

I grin, tipsy myself, but at ease. I take a sip of the tea, letting it burn my lips, tongue, and throat.

“Do you like the tea?” he asks Catherine.

“I haven’t been able to enjoy it, Brody. I just finished sewing up Nolan’s finger before attending to this gory shin wound of yours. I still can’t make sense of what happened. Nolan threw you off the jet ski, then cut his finger on a rock that sliced your leg as he dragged you back up?”

Brody shrugs.

“I’m shocked neither one of your parents is in the medical field. I feel like they were probably constantly at the doctor’s with you two growing up.”

“We are grown up and still needing care,” Brody slurs.

Nolan messes with the electric switch to lower the fire.

“I’m really glad he’s marrying you, you know that?”

Catherine laughs. “Why? Because I’m a nurse?”

“No, because you see him,” Brody replies.

Everyone silences at the statement because Brody doesn’t say stuff like this sober. It’s almost scary.

What else might he say? That he thinks I’m a mistake because of my family? His mind is secretive. I can tell he guards the contents, and the words he chooses to say are presented with care. My fear is he’ll say something so truthful that there will be no coming back from it.

“Why don’t we get you to bed?” Nolan says, helping Brody stand and wrapping an arm around his waist. “You really let loose today, McBrode, and you need some sleep. We can continue the debauchery tomorrow if you’re not hugging the porcelain toilet.”

Catherine and I confirm the fire is all the way off, and she grabs the tray with snacks and teacups.

“I mean it, Nolan,” Brody continues. “I’m just happy for you.”

Nolan side-eyes Brody. “Happy is never a word you use, so forgive me for ordering you to bed.”

There’s a lull in conversation as we reach the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the second-story deck.

“Don’t take me down. Catherine is out of sutures in her medical kit, and she might leave me if we injure ourselves again,” Nolan warns his twin.

I notice how Nolan dodges the emotion with his brother, knowing Brody would be horrified if he knew what he was saying in front of other people. Even if it is me.

“Brody,” I chime in, walking close behind the twins, keeping my hand on the metal pole handrail.

Never do I believe men deserve the dignity of their thoughts staying hidden, but somehow and some way, Brody does. I’ve never seen him drunk, but our exposure to normal, civilized settings has been limited.

“Are you always brutally honest when you’ve been drinking?”

“Yes,” Brody and Nolan say at the same time.

“It’s how I know when to cut him off,” Nolan says alone.

“I only drink like this when I’m with my brother,” Brody slurs. “When I’m with the people I trust.”

Nolan slaps his back as we get into the house. “I’m flattered. Now go to sleep.”

Brody listens, heading up the staircase to our room, where Grimace has been asleep in his bed for hours.

The thought pops up that I should check in with security, but I look at my phone on the counter, and there aren’t any messages from them.

There is a group text from my mom and Bronwyn about a small get-together she’s hosting next week.

My sister is trying to get out of it without luck, and my mom is crying about wanting some normalcy after what she’s been through.

I roll my eyes, and even though I’d love to skip her party, I won’t. I’ll respond tomorrow, though.

Nolan locks the French doors leading outside while Catherine goes downstairs to check the door to the garage and the front door.

“You mean a lot to him,” Nolan says. “More than I’ve seen anyone other than his damn dog mean to him.”

I nod, knowing exactly where this is going.

“It’s serious. We are serious,” I tell Nolan.

When they aren’t side by side, the resemblance between them is uncanny. The strong nose and glowing eyes, the jaw that’s square and strong.

Nolan doesn’t look at me as warmly as Brody does, though. As he looks at me, his gaze is sharp, without any trace of softness. He paces a step, rocking back on his heel, and proceeds to continue this cadence.

He picks up a stray half-full bottle of beer on the counter and takes a sip.

“He’s been through hell. You know that, I’m sure.” He pauses on a rock back on his heel. “But you don’t know all of it.”

I’m frozen to my spot, one hand steadying myself on the back of a kitchen table chair.

He goes on. “He’s seen things. The things he’s done? None of it goes away. Here you are, all shiny and sweet, hailing from a world that eats people like him alive.”

I narrow my eyes. “If you’re trying to scare me off, it won’t work. I know who he is, and he knows who I am. I may be from a different place, but I will always protect him. That’s what you do when you love someone.”

Nolan shakes his head and sets the bottle back on the granite. It makes a loud noise.

“I’m not trying to scare you. I just want to make sure you get it. He’s not some project. Brody isn’t a man you clean up and bring to brunch.”

My hand trembles a little, so I bring it up next to my other.

“There’s nothing to fix.” I blink slowly a couple of times, stunned to see this side of his twin, but also thankful he has someone who loves him so fiercely.

Nolan exhales loudly. “Thank God. He doesn’t need fixing. He needs someone who stays through the good and the bad. He needs someone who doesn’t change him into something he’s not.”

Finally, he looks up from the floor and meets my eyes. A softness comes.

“He told me he wants to marry you.”

There’s a pregnant silence as I take it in. Butterflies invade my stomach at the same time my heart rate picks up, throbbing against my neck.

“He did?” I ask.

“He didn’t say it like some romantic, idealistic bullshit, because that’s not him.” He runs a hand through his hair. “He said it like a tortured man who’s never wanted something he thought he didn’t deserve.”

I watch as he swallows hard, trying to control his emotions.

“So if you aren’t all in, or if this is just some phase, walk away now. I’ll take care of the aftermath. Again.”

“I know who Brody is. I know about the scars you can see and the ones he hides at all costs. I know about the car accident that changed him and the teammates he’s lost throughout the years.

I know he flinches if you touch him when he’s not expecting it, and that he’s so inside his head that he acts like a grouch to try to push people away.

I know his heart,” I say, breathing heavily, a tear rolling down my cheek. “And I will always care for it.”

Nolan stares at me, looking for doubt or cracks, but he doesn’t find any because they don’t exist. He goes to walk away, but turns to look at me before he disappears into the hallway.

“If you hurt him…” He starts, voice shaking.

I cut him off. “I would never hurt him.”

“You’ll answer to me,” he finishes.

“If I ever hurt him, I’ll deserve to answer to more than you, Nolan,” I reply. “I won’t.”

He nods, then walks away, leaving me alone.

I turn off the light with shaky hands, grab my phone, and head upstairs. The bedroom door is open, and I can see—no, I can hear—Brody sleeping on top of the bed. He’s on his stomach, face turned to the window, so the moonlight illuminates his face.

He said he wants to marry me.

Grimace lifts his head from his oversized bed near the bathroom entrance, then puts it back down when he sees it’s me.

So this is what it feels like to get the guy fully. In the real love kind of way, not the convenience kind of way that so many of my friends and family thrive on. My heart is still pounding with the knowledge that I’m loved for who I am.

Standing in the bright moonlight, I look out the bay window at the shining lake, and a peace washes over me.

The weight of what I’ve been through was heavy until I compared it to what Brody has endured throughout his life. It’s almost as if by loving someone who has been through so much, I’m able to distance myself from my own trauma.

I use the bathroom, wash my face, brush my teeth, and give Grimace a pet before crawling into bed next to Brody. He pulls me close, and his touch when I’m tired is like a sedative. I fall asleep briskly, and for the first time since I got home, the nightmares don’t come.

Brody apologizes for the third time at breakfast. I guess this was one of the two debauchery drunk days he allows himself per year, and he wasn’t planning on it being one.

“Your security is here, so I guess that’s why I felt it was a good time to let my guard down. It’s been so long since I’ve done that.”

“Stop apologizing for having fun. You didn’t do or say anything that crazy.”

I let my gaze drop to his shin. It bled all over the bed last night, stopping just short of soaking the mattress. I’ve already washed and dried the bedding, and he helped me put it back on.

“That’s crazy,” I say once again.

I push him a glass of orange juice and headache medicine. He takes it, swallowing the juice so quickly it dribbles down his chin. I finish my bagel and coffee and take our dishes to the sink, where Catherine is.

She’s hovering over the sink with a piece of buttered toast.

“I am not twenty-one anymore,” she says, voice raspy. “How are you feeling? This was either the absolute best way to meet us or the worst. Be honest and tell me which one.” Her eyes are rimmed in yesterday’s eye makeup.