At sunrise, I decide to get up and make a pot of coffee. Lord knows I’m gonna need it today. Hell, I should add a bottle of vodka to it too.
Unsure of where to start or what to do, I decide to text Hayden to see if he’s awake. Since he’s on the East Coast, he’s three hours ahead of me and should be available. I need to get with Mason and Liam too. More calls I don’t know how the hell to make.
“Hey, what’s up, bro?” Hayden answers with a smile in his voice after telling me he was free to chat. “You’re up early. Or a chick keep you up all night?” He chuckles at his own joke, and I wish I could laugh with him.
“It’s Brandon,” I simply respond. It comes out rougher than I intend, but I can’t hide the emotion in my voice. “He died in a motorcycle accident last night.”
Just saying the words aloud has my heart pounding harder, almost as if it’ll beat right out of my chest. My breathing quickens as the anxiety of what this really means and how my life will forever be changed hits me.
“Oh, Hunter. God. I’m so sorry,” Hayden softly replies. “Fuck, I don’t even know what to say. I can fly in this weekend if you need me to.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not even sure when the funeral is or any of the details yet. I had to tell his mom over the phone and hearing her break down nearly had me in tears,” I tell him, my voice cracking. I try to keep it together for Lennon’s sake because I know she’s going to need it, but I know I can talk to my brother about anything without judgment. “I can’t believe he’s really gone.”
Hayden stays on the phone with me for over thirty minutes, listening to me ramble and getting my juggled thoughts out of my head. He reminds me that he’s here for me, and if I need him close, he’ll fly home anytime. I appreciate him so much. Once again, he’s proven to be the only true relationship I have within our family.
After hanging up, I pour a cup of coffee and sit at the kitchen table. My mind’s too cluttered to really think about how I’m going to handle all this. We’d been so close, hung out all the time, especially on the weekends, but then things noticeably changed when Lennon moved in. His happiness was all I cared about, so I understood when he ditched our guy nights for date nights. It wasn’t as though I didn’t find other company to keep me busy.
I’m lost in my thoughts until I hear Lennon rustling in the living room. I walk over and see her dragging her feet down the hallway, then enter the bathroom. She slams the door shut with unnecessary force, and I head into the living room and see her phone’s still on the coffee table.
Remembering I need to get Brandon’s work number and figuring her sisters need to know too so they can be here for her just as much, I grab her phone and walk to the bathroom.
“Lennon,” I call, tapping my knuckles on the door. “What’s the code to your phone?”
She doesn’t answer, but a second later, she whips it open and stares at me with an unreadable expression. “For what?”
“I need Brandon’s boss’s number. You should call Maddie and Sophie too, but I can do that for you if you want,” I tell her.
Lennon narrows her eyes at me, her hair a wild mess. Her skin is blotchy, and her eyes are red from crying. I feel a strong desire to pull her close and hug her, and let her know it’s all going to be okay, but I don’t.
“It’s your number,” she states matter-of-factly, walking past me and down the hallway again.
“Huh?” I ask, thoroughly confused. She heads to the kitchen and pours coffee into a mug.
“6-6-6.” She spins around to face me with a deadpan expression.
“Lennon.” I step toward her, but she puts up a hand to stop me from coming any closer.
“Like I said,” she says with harsh emphasis, “you haven’t been nice to me in two years, so there’s no reason to start now. Give me my phone, and I’ll forward you the contact info. I can call my sisters.”
Lennon holds out her palm, and I reluctantly deposit her phone into it. I can’t even argue with her, especially now. I’ve been a grade A asshole to her, there’s no denying that, but she doesn’t understand the circumstances of why I had to be—why I had to push her away.
I walk away without responding, not wanting to say anything I’ll regret later. She’s not going to let me in easily, but regardless, she’ll need all the support she can get over the next few weeks, months, hell, maybe even years. We still live together, after all.