Chapter 33
Justice
Brody’s calling again. From the tone of his previous voicemails, I have to assume he’s not a fan of women walking away. The day I arrived in Boston, he returned to California. That was two weeks ago. He played the supportive role. Of course, he doesn’t have a problem with me seeing my folks. Family means the world to him.
But Brody MacKenzie loves himself above all. I don’t need that again.
I’ve had the knife twisted into my heart the last time I was someone’s second, third, or very last choice. Lance’s last choice. We’d gone from meaning everything to each other to me meaning nothing. While my heart still abided by the same rules, Lance let his first love overshadow the one we created.
Brody’s the guy that will never put me first. I can’t blame him. He doesn’t even lie and say all the pretty words most women crave. I have to protect my heart. I see the phone vibrating on the wooden table, and with a grunt, I climb to my feet and smooth down the front of my silk blouse.
The tiny backyard is filled with patches of grass and even more people. Family who claimed they missed me while I was away.
Not a single person was around when mom dipped into her retirement from the county, and pops did the same with his retirement from the school board.
I walk along the tiny, ten-by-ten backyard. With every step, I smile, a big, old, feel-good smile for my family. With each pace, I ask one relative if they’re enjoying Mommy’s mac and cheese and another if Pop’s marinated the ribs to his expectations.
The answer is yes, and not because these are free meals. Pop’s food is soul food. This is the reason why I was a big girl. When Lance chose me last so he could pursue music, I chose food first.
I head into the kitchen of my parents’ townhouse. Along the white tile is foiled casserole dishes. A little farther down are piles of empty containers. My family brought food, appetites, and Tupperware.
I grab another plate. There’s nothing else to do but eat unless I want to talk about where I’ve been all these years.
While heaping greens and black-eyed peas on a plate, I contemplate how Lance and I went from starry-eyed to passing each other like ships in the night.
“What are you doing here?” I ask myself. Chevelle had gotten the return ticket for me and said I could change the date as many times as I liked. She’d also slid in the fact she, Erika, and Erika’s uncle Edward were visiting the first potential pub location today.
I was supposed to return yesterday, but momma had scheduled this shindig for after church Sunday, which is today. But Chevelle said she’d text with me first, and if I wasn’t busy, FaceTime during their walk through.
I’ve got a new flight set for Wednesday.
A heap of food as tall as Mount Everest rests on top of the paper plate in my hand. While thinking about how Mia begged me to be her next auntie, I pile on more food. I miss drinks and comedy movies with Chevelle.
I miss Brody.
“Jus?” My cousin, Sincere, shoves my cellphone to the side of my face, juggling it in her hand. “Gerard Butler is on your phone.”
I shove my lips up into a smile and thank her for answering my phone—even though that was crossing the line.
“You’re welcome.” She winks.
A chorus of questions greets my ears. “Is it a job prospect?” “Are you moving back for good?” “Who is Gerard Butler?”
“Gerard’s an act—this isn’t him,” I mutter. What’s the use? My nosey uncle hasn’t watched a movie since boy bands grooved around the same microphone.
I start to speak but pause. Damn. I pause for fear of sighing while uttering Brody’s name. If I sigh, hem and haw, he’ll hear the longing in my tone. What the hell happened to me?
On our first encounter, Brody was a chauvinistic pig. The second encounter, same thing. After New Mexico, he was no longer this untouchable, ridiculously, and ruggedly handsome asshole. White noise funnels into my ears as I imagine the night before we both parted ways. God, I need to protect my heart.
He isn’t the kind who’d drop to his knees with a ring in hand. And the feelings swarming through me as we lay together the last time feel like a knife to the chest. How dare he know my facial expressions. How dare he claim a slither of my heart with no desire to offer the faintest piece of his own.
“Hey,” I reply. Damn you, Sincere, for answering my phone. I stopped answering him for a reason.
“I take it ye’re not waiting for me at LAX because I left there. I’ve called ye, called and fecking waited.”
The lining of my second lips quiver at the sound of his gravelly voice.
“I told you.” I pause, feeling someone practically in my mouth. It’s to be expected with my family unless money is involved, in which case, everyone disappears. Hence the reason I was gone so long. I turn, and the same uncle still stands there.