Page 217 of Broken Brothers

“Funny enough, that’s how it is for me too,” Sarah said. “Let’s say we hang for the next little bit?”

I knew if I said yes, I was only opening myself up to more risk. If Layla saw us, that would be the end of us forever. If I said yes… I wasn’t sure I’d be able to say no.

But I didn’t see how I could say no. The last hour had been pleasant. I was getting a chance to redeem my younger self. I was getting the chance to prove the name “Hunt” really wasn’t a curse, but just a fact of mine. I was getting the chance to prove prior abandonments didn’t make me any less attractive.

It was deep, but that just made it all the harder to pull away.

“Let’s do it,” I said with a smile, rising and offering my hand to help her up.

87

Ishould not have taken Sarah’s hand.

If my goal was to minimize the confusion and insanity in my head, then taking Sarah’s hand was about the worst thing I could have done. Present-day Chance knew that well.

But I couldn’t blame it all on the little kid inside of me. The current Chance, while he was taking time to evaluate things with Layla, still had a bit of a charmer streak to him. For better or for worse, that Chance relished the opportunity to seduce and charm beautiful women; it was a fun game to him as much as it was something serious to think about. And though this part of me was fading, it was still present.

So it was that for literally the rest of the day, I spent my time with Sarah, playing a sort of hunting game in New York City, trying to go to all of the places we had never been to before. This took us to a variety of museums, bars, and restaurants; it took us to the State of Liberty and the Empire State Building; and it even took us to Chinatown. We acted like tourists, because for at least a couple of days, one of us was a tourist.

In the initial stages of the date—which, I had to be honest, there was no reason to call it anything but that, the way Sarah was smiling at me—I felt extraordinarily self-conscious about my behavior. I didn’t hold Sarah’s hand any longer at first than to help her up, and even when she put her hand on my arm to reassure me, there was nothing that I did to engage. I was too paranoid about seeing Layla and forgetting myself.

A few hours in, though, around the time that we went to the Statue of Liberty, I lost my inhibitions. It wasn’t like I suddenly started kissing her and sweeping her off her feet; I didn’t do anything more than put my arm around her. Rather, either I began to accept or I started to rationalize that as a single male who had not promised Layla anything, I had a right to do this.

But just because you have the right to do something, does that mean you really want to do it?

I ignored that thought, even as it cropped up every so often, and lost myself in the moment with Sarah. This was what I had always hoped I’d get the chance to do. This was what I had always yearned for.

And for what?

To sleep with Sarah? To date her? To call her the one?

The last two definitely weren’t happening, at least not for some time. The first one could have on that evening, but talk about something that would have opened a can of worms—or a barrel of worms. I had a feeling if I wanted to, I could have done so.

For now, though, after we’d viewed the sunset from the Empire State Building, when she asked me what to do, standing before me with a smile on her face and narrowed eyes—the kind of look that was practically begging for a kiss—I didn’t kiss her.

“There’s a lot we could go and do,” I said.

I think she was getting impatient with me, but the longer I could delay doing something that would potentially fuck with my head more, the better.

“We could go walk around, could grab dinner, could go ice skating, could—”

“Yes, that!” she said. “Let’s go skating! I don’t get to do that overseas.”

“Sure,” I said as I started walking to the downtown skating rink. “Gotta take advantage while you can, right?”

Like take advantage of your window with Layla? You know, the one that might be open for just a couple more days before she heads to Chicago. Or before she just decides she’s tired of playing your waiting games.

The two of us walked very close to each other; Sarah let her hand dangle, as if she wanted me to take it. I mostly kept my hands in my pockets.

I was very aware that the conflicting emotions and desires in my head probably made me look a little crazy. I was also aware that looking crazy was also something of a self-defense mechanism against myself; why would Sarah want to involve herself with someone as crazy as me?

Don’t justify yourself. You chose to meet up with her. You chose to keep hanging out with her. Whatever happens with you and Layla and Sarah is entirely your fault and in your control. So you better start taking ownership before things go too far.

When we got to the ice skating rink, Sarah actually grabbed my arm in excitement and dragged me forward. I laughed in response, but it evolved into something of a nervous laugh. The more she held my hand or touched me, the more this was going to be difficult to pry myself from.

I wonder what had changed for her. Maybe it was the revolt against her father that made her question everything.Maybe she was like me, having to address the inner child in her that yearned and begged for something. I knew she said she had moved on pretty quickly after our “breakup” from our “relationship” at a young age, but maybe she had just been lying. Maybe she’d had her own shit to deal with.

In any case, we quickly got our skates on and moved around the ice rink. Sarah was a very good skater, comfortable going faster than most after a few minutes of getting ice skates underneath her.