This One’s For You Read online

  I entered my room, headed into the bathroom, and slammed the door behind me. I locked the door, leaning up against it. My body started to shake as the first tears streamed down my cheeks. I slid down to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest, and rocked back and forth. As more tears fell, my sobs became louder. Everything I had been holding in until that moment burst free from the dam I had carefully built.

  Every emotion: anger, sadness, guilt, desperation, fear, anxiety, remorse, and rage overcame me in that single second. Everything I was afraid to let myself feel, I was feeling all at once. My body shook violently as the tears continued to stream down my face, and my throat was hoarse from crying.

  It happened—I finally broke.

  For the first time in almost a year, I let myself feel something—really feel something. The tears I had shed in the past were nothing compared to the ones I was crying now. The pain was unbearable. I wanted it to all go away. I wanted to rewind the clock just a little bit. I’d rather deal with my brothers acting like fools than to feel this.

  This was the moment everyone close to me was waiting for, the moment when I finally let everything sink in. They were waiting for me to break. I was surprised it wasn’t sooner.

  My sobs echoed the breaking of my heart. Speaking for the things I couldn’t say—the one thing I wanted to shout loud enough for everyone to hear; it wasn’t fair! Why was the most beautiful person I’d ever known stripped from this earth before it was her time?

  Seeing Ronnie, hearing his plan, brought everything to the surface. Why couldn’t he stay away? Everyone was constantly pushing me, and this time they pushed me too far. I went right over the cliff, and there was no end in sight.

  I barely heard the soft knock against the bathroom door over the sound of my own sobs. I held my breath, waiting to see if it was just my imagination, when there was another rap against the wooden door.

  I heard a loud sigh and a soft thump against the sturdy wood. My chest heaved as I kept as quiet as I could, my face soaked with tears. I wiped at them furiously, trying to get them to stop. The more I fought against it, the faster they seemed to fall.

  My mouth was dry. I licked my lips, tasting the saltiness of my broken heart.

  “Brennan . . .” Owen said.

  “I’ll be out in a moment.”

  I bit my bottom lip. I had to get myself together. I needed to get up off the floor, put a smile on my face, and go on like nothing happened. There was a reason why it had taken so long for me to break—I kept pretending I was fine. It wasn’t healthy, but staying on the cold bathroom floor bawling wasn’t either.

  I had to go back to the way I was prior to this. I had to grin it and bear it. Like nothing in the world could get me down. It was the only way I was going to survive.

  I pushed myself off the floor, careful not to look at my reflection in the mirror. Taking several deep breaths, I splashed my face with water, then patted it dry. With another deep intake of air, I headed toward the door.

  Owen stumbled back as I opened it, but quickly moved toward me. He pulled me into his arms, pressing my head to my chest, and kissed the top of my head. Any other time, I’d enjoy this, but right now I wasn’t.

  I didn’t want to be babied.

  “Owen,” I said, pushing myself out of his embrace. “I’m fine.”

  “You are not fine.”

  I headed to my bed. I sat down, propping up against the headboard, and pulled a pillow to my chest. Owen crossed the room, stopping at the foot, and stared at me silently.

  “I’m fine, honestly,” I tried to reassure him.

  Owen rounded the bed, lifting my feet off the mattress, before sitting down and placing my feet in his lap. He started to rub my left leg, his way of offering me comfort. But I didn’t want it. I pulled my legs free from him, and toward my chest. He sighed, and lowered his head.

  “I’m not going to ask you to tell me anything,” he started to say, meeting my gaze. “Because I know you aren’t going to tell me anything. But don’t pretend that you’re okay. You’re far from it.”

  I looked away.

  “I get it, you don’t want to talk. That’s fine. But at least let me comfort you. Let me try to help ease some of the pain you’re trying to hide on your face.”

  When I didn’t respond, he moved, taking the place next to me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, bringing me close to him. I tried to fight him off for a moment, but his hold wasn’t budging. Finally, I gave in, and rested my head on his shoulder.

  We sat like that for a while. Occasionally, silent tears would fall down from my eyes, whenever I glanced around my room, and my eyes fell on a picture of Reagan.

  If I closed my eyes, I swore I could hear the sound of her laughter bouncing off the walls. If I squeezed them tighter, I could almost picture her in the room with me. Making some kind of kissy face at the sight of me in Owen’s arms. Then she’d start planning a wedding, making it perfectly clear that she was the maid of honor. If I tried hard enough, it was like she wasn’t truly gone.

  My bedroom door opened slowly, without a knock, and all three of my brothers entered my room. I groaned softly, turning my head into Owen’s chest. I didn’t care if they saw us like this, and they had better hoped they didn’t start in on their crap.

  “How’s she doing?” It was Damon that spoke first.

  I rolled my eyes and turned to look at him.

  “I’m doing just fine,” I told him. “There’s nothing to see here. The three of you can go back to playing your video games.”

  “We want to apologize,” Damon replied, sighing and rubbing the back of his head. He glanced at the twins, and nodded slightly.

  “Yeah, for being dicks,” Trevor chimed in, stepping forward.

  Then Trent spoke. “And for bombarding you just a bit ago.” The room was quiet for a moment. “I, especially, need to apologize for my behavior. I’ve been the biggest ass hat in the world, and I’m sorry. But you can’t just go bringing a guy home and exp—”

  “Trent,” Damon snapped, warning him to stop.

  I climbed out of my bed and walked over to them. I wrapped my arms around Trevor’s midsection, squeezing him tightly, before moving on to Trent. Finally, reaching Damon. I held onto him a little tighter, and longer.

  “You guys can be really irritating,” I told them, looking at each one of them. “I still love you. But you guys really do need to learn to chill. Owen’s just a friend. There’s nothing to worry about, okay?”

  “We know,” Trent replied. “He told us . . . everything.”

  My heart skipped a beat and I glanced back at Owen, who was shaking his head. What the hell was that about? What all was there to tell?

  “Yeah,” Trevor said. “Once you get to know him, he isn’t that bad.” He nodded at Owen. “Besides, he killed Trent on Halo. Anyone who can do that is good in my book.”

  The room filled with the chuckles of the guys. The laughter that came from me felt a little forced, but I had to keep up the charade. It was the only way I was going to hold myself together.

  I made it almost a year before breaking. I would do it again. Then I’d allow myself that moment of weakness, before picking back up where I left off. It wasn’t the best of plans, and it probably wasn’t the smartest, but it was the only way I felt I could deal with it.

  There was no way that I could feel how I felt on the bathroom floor every single day. I didn’t care if they say it’ll get easier. It’ll never get easier. I lost my best friend. My other half. The one who completed me. She brought out the best in me. And that hole in my heart—it would never heal. I could live forever, and I’d always have it.

  “So, we’re good?” Damon asked, hesitantly. He chewed on his lower lip. A habit he did when he was severely worried about something. I nodded, and saw his shoulders relax.

  “Okay,” Trent said, his voice all too cheerful. “Well, Ronnie’s gone.” I did a little dance on the inside. “Mom and Grams are baking, and you know whe
re to find the old geezers. So we’re on our own. What kind of trouble do you think we can get into?”

  A thought came to mind, and I smiled. My eyes shot to Trent. There was only one thing the Daniels siblings could do that was banned from the household. The one thing we’d get into trouble for if caught. And it was absolutely the most ridiculous rule we had.

  “Spoons?” I said loudly. I didn’t need to elaborate any more to them.

  My brothers and I all shared a knowing glance. We were going to have to be careful and not get caught. To some, a silly card game like Spoons being banned was a little over the top.

  However, there was something about those spoons sitting in the middle of the table, and the need to do whatever it took to get one so you wouldn’t have to sit out until the game was over, that made the Daniels siblings go mad.

  The game had a tendency to get violent, but I still felt my mother went overboard when she said that the game was not allowed in the house anymore. It was only two fingers on Damon’s hand that got broken the last time!

  “This is going to sound stupid,” Owen said, suddenly next to me. “But what in the world is Spoons?”

  The four of us looked at him as if he just committed murder. How was it that he did not know what Spoons was? Oh no, that had to be corrected. Besides, it’d give us the perfect excuse if we were caught.

  “You have no idea what you’re about to witness,” I joked, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re about to see a side of me that you’ve never seen before.”

  Owen raised an eyebrow, and stared at me like he wanted to rip my clothes off. Brothers be damned. On cue, my brothers cleared their throats, and Owen broke away first. I noticed out the corner of my eye that his cheeks were bright pink. I giggled to myself.

  “Who’s going to distract the dictator?” Trent asked, referring to our mom.

  The most difficult part of this whole thing was going to be getting the spoons without her seeing us. She’d catch on immediately and put a stop to it before anyone got a foot away from the silverware drawer. And with her baking in the kitchen, it was going to be very hard.

  “I say we use Owen,” Trevor volunteered.

  “Guys, we can’t feed him to the wolves,” I responded. I glanced up at Owen, who was completely confused about what was going on.

  “I’ve got it!” Trent exclaimed. “We’ll all go down to the kitchen. The three of us”—he pointed to our brothers—“will head down to the family room. Brennan, you’ll go to the freezer to grab ice cream for everyone, and direct Owen to get the spoons. Mom won’t think anything of it.”

  “That could work,” Damon said.

  I laughed silently. My brothers were crazy, and still very much kids. Here they were, one was twenty-five years old, and the other two were twenty-one. All afraid of our mother. It was comical.

  “Okay, then,” I said. “As long as Owen’s cool with it.”

  I turned to Owen, who still seemed unsure about what he was getting into. A smile danced across his face, and he stared at me while he spoke. “I’m in.”

  My brothers and I let out a small cheer. Owen shook his head. He really had no idea what he was about to get himself into.

  “So the plan is set then,” Damon said. “Brennan will get the ice cream, and Owen will get the spoons.” He looked at Owen. “By the way, you’ll only need to grab four.”

  “Four?”

  I patted his shoulder again, and offered a smile. “Yes, four. That’s all we need.”

  With a plan figured out, the five of us exited my room and started making our way toward the kitchen. In the back of my mind, I was still reeling from the breakdown. I had to convince myself to keep moving one foot after the next. This was what I needed—a distraction. With the help of my brothers, Owen, a deck of cards, and spoons.

  We split up at the stairs. Owen and I continued into the kitchen. Grams was covered in flour and rolling out cookie dough to be cut into shapes. My mother had her back to us, vigorously stirring something in a metal pot on the stove.

  “Hey, darling,” Grams said, when she finally noticed us.

  My mother turned to look at us, still stirring the pot. “Brennan . . .”

  “Not now, Mom.” I cut her off before she could get into a whole speech about what happened. “We’re just grabbing some ice cream, then heading downstairs to watch a movie with the boys.”

  A soft smile appeared on her face. “I’m glad you guys made up.”

  I nodded.

  “The spoons are over there,” I told Owen, pointing to a drawer to the right of the stove.

  My mother moved to the side, allowing room for Owen to pull open the drawer. I opened the drawer below the fridge, revealing the freezer that was filled with nothing but ice cream. I grabbed a container of rocky road and my personal favorite—mint chocolate chip.

  Owen held up his hand, indicating he got the spoons. He closed the distance between us, and we started to make our way out of the kitchen. We were so close to getting away with it. Just a few more steps and we’d be free.

  “Brennan,” my mother called out. I froze in my steps, sucking in a deep breath and turned to face her. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  My face fell, and I couldn’t form the words sitting on the tip of my tip. My mom rested a hand on her hip, tilted her head to the side, and stared at me wide-eyed.

  “Bowls?” she said. “You kinda need bowls to eat ice cream.”

  Oh crap! I didn’t think of that.

  “Bowls, right,” I repeated. “Owen, you want to grab the bowls. There in the cupboard by the sink.”

  He nodded, heading in the direction I pointed to. He set the spoons down on the counter, and I groaned inwardly. I hoped my mother wouldn’t turn and see that there were only four of them. She’d immediately figure it out.

  Owen started to pull open a cabinet door. “Not that one,” I said, a little too loudly.

  This caught my mother’s attention, and she turned toward him. I squeezed my eyes shut as her eyes fell on the spoons. “I think you’re missing one.”

  Owen glanced over his shoulder to her. “Huh?”

  “You’re missing a spoon, there should be five,” she replied.

  I had to think of something. Anything. “Trent said he didn’t want any.” I jumped in to save him and the future of our game. “Something about watching what he ate for the season.”

  If she suspected I was lying, she didn’t let it on, nor did she press the issue. She made a soft little sound and focused back on stirring whatever was in the pot.

  Owen opened the cupboard where the bowls were and pulled down four bowls. When he turned around, I could see a hint of fear in his eyes. I had to restrain the laughter rising in my chest. The effect my mother had on men was something out of this world.

  He quickly walked across the kitchen, and the two of us started to leave. My heart pounded against my ribs, looking for a way out. We were so close to the homestretch. I picked up my pace and as we reached the entryway, my mother’s chilling voice stopped me.

  “Enjoy the ice cream,” she said, sarcasm lacing her voice. I picked up my pace again. “Make sure no one breaks a finger this time.”

  I almost stopped dead in my tracks again, but kept pressing forward. Okay, so we were caught, but she wasn’t stopping us. I should’ve known my mother would figure it out. Nothing got past her.

  Besides, Trent was never one to pass on rocky road. Football season or not. He’d have it fed to him through an IV if he could. His obsession with the rich frozen chocolate, peanuts, and marshmallows bordered on the line of insanity. He loved his ice cream.

  Once we were in the hall, the laughter I held at bay came to fruition. As we reached the stairs, I looked over at Owen, who had a slight grin on his face.

  My body vibrated with each laugh. I shook my head, and then said, “That was a close one.”

  NINETEEN

  “OKAY,” DAMON SAID, setting the spoons in the center of the table.
My brothers had pulled out the card table and chairs, and had it set up by the time we had gotten to the lower half of the house. “The point of the game is to get a spoon by any means necessary. The person who doesn’t end up with one is out. Then we start again with the remaining players and removing a spoon from the table. We keep doing this until there’s a winner.”

  Owen nodded his head.

  “The dealer will hand out four cards to each player,” my brother continued. “The remaining cards are stacked in a pile by the dealer. The object of the game is to get a four of a kind. The dealer starts by drawing from the top of the deck, if they don’t need it, the set it facedown clockwise.”

  Damon paused to make sure Owen was still with him. His full attention was on Damon as he explained the rules of the game. I was starting to get antsy in my seat. It had been a long time since we’d played, and I couldn’t be more excited.

  “The player beside the dealer will pick it up, and if they can use it, they swap it out with one of their cards and set it facedown to their left. We continue to go in a circle like this. Keep in mind, you can only have four cards in your hand at all times. If you don’t need the card, pass it off as quickly as you can. Once you have four of a kind, you try to sneak a spoon of the table. And that’s when all bets are off . . .” Damon stopped again, and smirked.

  This was when things took a dangerous turn in our household.

  “If someone sees you take a spoon, or notices one is gone, they can grab for a spoon regardless if they have all the cards they need. After that, the standing Daniels’ tradition is, you have fifteen seconds to try and take a spoon from any of your opponents by any means necessary.”

  “You might want to rethink that rule,” Owen said, for the first time.

  We laughed simultaneously.

  “Ahh, a few broken bones never hurt anyone,” Trent joked.

  Damon narrowed his eyes at our brother. “Says the guy who didn’t have his fingers broken, but was responsible for the breaking.”

  “Hey!” Trent exclaimed. “I did you a solid one. You didn’t have to do any chores for a month, and Mom made me pick up the slack as punishment.”