Page 58 of Forever Then

Chapter Forty-Four

I CAN EXPLAIN

Gretchen

The restaurant my parents chose is swarming with people. And because I underestimated the time it would take to walk here from Connor’s place, I’m late.

A rush of air hits my back as I attempt to peek around the mass of people crowding the hostess station. A moment later, the front door closes behind me with a thud .

“Thank God. You’re late, too.”

I turn to Drew with a mischievous smile. “I think it’s the hostess’ fault.”

Drew lifts up on his toes to spot the innocent perpetrator. “Let the mousey girl who looks overwhelmed and not a day over sixteen take the fall?” He arches a brow. “Cutthroat. I like it.”

The throng of people inches forward, pulling Drew and I along.

“How’s Reagan?”

“As good as can be expected. And by good, I mean she kicked me out this morning because—and I’m paraphrasing—for the love of God if I don’t stop hovering she’s gonna smother me in my sleep. And if I don’t bring home mac and cheese and chocolate cake, I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.”

I chuckle. “I always knew I liked her.”

“If I’m missing come morning, there was definitely foul play involved. She can’t be trusted.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe she called me and I helped her hide your body?”

Drew’s shoulders sag, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as his body quakes in silent, pitiful laughter. “That’s so morbid, Gretch. Why am I laughing?”

Drew’s always been a fixer, which is noble, but it can also be suffocating.

Even I can tell that he’s emotionally and physically spent.

Whether his laughter comes from a legitimately funny or maniacally exhausted place, he needs permission to laugh.

Reagan may have lovingly kicked him out this morning, but I think Drew needed space, too.

We inch forward a few more steps, finally reaching the hostess who directs us to our parents’ table around the corner along the back wall of the restaurant.

Drew motions for me to walk ahead of him.

Chivalry? One would think, but no. When the familiar cringe-worthy buzzing sound lands against my ear—the product of my mutinous brother’s thumb and index finger rubbing together in that way he learned when we were kids—the hair on my arms stands up, body twitching.

I spin on a dime and pummel my fist into his bicep. “Ugh, you’re infuriating.”

He cackles and rakes a hand over my scalp before I’m able to turn back around. I glare at him over my shoulder as I smooth a hand over my hair. “You are such a loser!” I grit.

“Children,” Dad interrupts our squabble. “Nice to see you haven’t lost that pre-pubescent petty charm about you.” His tone is affectionate if not a little chastising.

Mom and Dad stand to greet us and we all exchange hugs. It’s been a month since I’ve seen them and not even New York City—or Flagstaff—is a decent substitute for spending time with them.

As we pile into the half-moon booth, I follow the natural flow and end up seated next to Mom, Dad next to her and Drew next to Dad, leaving the empty seat for Connor on my other side.

Speaking of my boyfriend, Mom asks, “Is Connor still able to make it?”

Count to three. You don’t know his whereabouts because you are not his girlfriend. He did not text you five minutes ago saying he’s on his way.

Thankfully, Drew answers before I’m able to slip up. “He’s on his way.”

Mom and Dad ask Drew for an update on Reagan. My brother’s face falls before he levels it out, offering, “She’s fine .”

My parents visited Reagan yesterday before she was discharged from the hospital. I imagine they were brought up to speed on everything.

The waitress arrives to take our drink order, and nobody is more excited for the interruption than Drew. As the waitress leaves, Connor appears at the table with a slap on Drew’s shoulder and a bright smile to my parents as he moves into the empty seat beside me.

Remember the rules.

I say it as much to myself as I try to telepathically communicate it to him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Connor supplies. “Still playing catch up at work and I lost track of time.”

Memories of this morning flash through my mind. Connor luring me awake with his face—and fingers—between my thighs, both of us completely lost in the feel of each other. He was thirty minutes late getting out the door.

Do not grab his hand.

“No worries, dear,” Mom coos.

“How’s the jet lag?” Connor asks.

“Today’s better than yesterday, that’s for sure,” Dad says with a soft laugh as Mom puffs out her cheeks on an exhausted exhale. “We were both awake for three hours in the middle of the night, but managed to fall back asleep for a bit after the sun came up.”

The waitress returns with our drinks and we dismiss her a moment later, requesting more time to look at the menu .

“So,” Mom prods, “I want to hear about your trip. Connor, that was so nice of you to step in when Drew couldn’t make it. Thank you for doing that.”

Connor sips from his glass as he waves off the gratitude with his free hand. Like water dousing out a fire, Mom’s next question lands like a hammer on an anvil. “I hope your girlfriend didn’t mind.”

His expression falters for a beat and Drew must notice because he answers first. “He and Lauren broke up, Mom.”

The stone cold stare that passes between my brother and my boyfriend communicates a thousand thoughts that only I can translate.

Drew still thinks Connor made a mistake.

Connor’s guilt over our secret is eating him away from the inside out.

Do not grab his hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Mom says. “She was a lovely girl.”

Connor smiles politely, breaking my brother’s stare. “Thank you, Kelly. Lauren is great, but it just wasn’t going to work out.”

His leg brushes mine under the table. It could be excused as incidental contact, but he doesn’t back away and neither do I.

Drew shakes his head so imperceptibly anyone could miss it, before he says, “Anyway, the trip. Let’s hear it.”

I practiced this part. I rehearsed the words in the mirror this morning. Yet, when I look at my brother across the table, his expectant gaze bores into me and my throat goes dry.

“Gretch, are you okay?” Dad asks.

I ping-pong my gaze between Mom, Dad and Drew. A soft hand wraps around the knee I have crossed over my other leg and my eyes drift shut briefly at the reassuring contact. Connor’s breaking the rules and I don’t even care.

“There’s actually something I need to tell you guys.” I push against the nerves threatening to take hold of my words. “I didn’t go to Arizona to celebrate graduation or my birthday.”

Mom looks like she wants to quiz me, but she doesn’t rush to speak. Looking at Dad, I see the gentle father he’s always been. Endlessly patient, he’s never one to push me .

Connor’s hand slides around to my upper calf to run a knuckle up and down in smooth strokes. The lulling movement says you got this with every sweep of his fingers.

I steel my spine, fixing my eyes on Mom and Dad.

Silverware clatters to the hardwood floor somewhere nearby and I register Drew shifting in my periphery, as I begin.

“I went to Arizona because,” I take in a deep breath, my anxious thoughts narrowing in on Connor’s touch to anchor me, “I found my birth parents.”

Stares.

Silence.

“What the fuck!” Drew’s booming voice draws every head to turn. He rises to his feet from a crouched position beside the table, burning with anger as he slams a fistful of silverware on the tabletop. Connor removes his hand from my leg and…I know.

Drew towers over him as Connor raises both of his hands and says, “Drew, calm down.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down, Vining,” Drew seethes.

“Honey, sit down and let Gretchen explain,” Mom tries to interject, but it goes in one ear and out the other. Drew’s attention is laser-locked on the man beside me.

“I can explain,” Connor says, voice resigned.

No, no, no. This is all wrong. I need to say something, but I’m stunned speechless, terrified of the brother standing in front of me who fumes with a level of restrained aggression I’ve never seen from him before.

“I trusted you to look out for her.”

“Andrew, you’re blowing this out of proportion and you’re making a scene. Sit. Down.” But Dad’s reprimand falls on deaf ears.

“Outside. Now.”

Connor’s shoulders drop before he turns to me with regret in his eyes as he reads the panic in mine. He reaches for my hand. No use hiding the truth now.

“Don’t fucking touch her! Outside.”

Connor pulls his hand away and my vision narrows to a tunnel.

The restaurant fades into obscurity along the blurred edges as the mumbled words and labored exhales from my parents tell me they know, too.

They realize what Drew has discovered—what we’ve been hiding.

But I can’t seem to find focus on anything other than the man sitting to my right, broken, despondent and looking like he wishes for one big do-over.

Connor winces, jaw tight like it’s the only thing stopping him from lashing out. With a pained look at my parents, he says, “I’m sorry,” before he gets up and follows my brother to the front door.

I’m unmoving as I watch them walk away. Like a coward, I say nothing.

“Gretchen.” Mom’s calm voice and gentle hand on my arm are a soft tap tap tap on the soundproof box I find myself in. “Sweetie?”

I turn to look at her, unseeing, no words to be found.

The three of us shift our attention to the windows at the front of the restaurant in time to see Drew storm on to the sidewalk, Connor on his heels.

My brother flings his arms and lands an accusatory finger hard onto Connor’s chest, heads pivoting throughout restaurant, everyone with a front row seat.

Connor’s hands come up in surrender.

Their mouths are moving, my brother’s faster and more animated than Connor’s steady, more stoic expression and tight-lipped responses.

Drew says something.

Connor replies.

I’m out of my seat, racing for the door, the moment Drew’s fist connects with Connor’s jaw.