Brady Remington Landed Me in Jail

  torment on her face and my heart matched it. It tore at my insides when I whispered, "So you don't hate me?"

  "Why would I ever hate you?"

  "Because I'm just like her." A sob ripped out of me.

  "What? You are not like your mother. Well, you kind of are, but not in the way you think."

  Tears fell freely down my cheeks, but I paid them no attention. "Did she sleep around? Was she really empty inside or really lonely or what? I've been trying to wrap my mind around it and I can't figure it out. I can't figure out why she would do that. I have no urge to do that. Brady was just because…" I couldn't say it.

  Viola finished, "Because you love him?"

  I looked away. Could I tell her that?

  My grandmother stepped forward. "So you think that because you slept with Brady you're like your mother?"

  For some reason I couldn't speak anymore. I nodded instead.

  She hung her head. "You are like your mother in only two ways." She looked up and pierced me with those eyes now. "You look like her and you fell in love with the wrong man."

  What—huh?

  "I know the rumours. I know what everyone says about your mother, but I'm telling you that those rumours are just rumours. They are complete lies."

  It was my turn to again—"What?"

  "Your mother never slept around. I know you think she did. Everyone talks about it, but it's not true. She was keeping herself, much like you, for the one man she loved. It just didn't happen the way we all wanted it to be. But she didn't sleep around, Rayna. She wasn't like that."

  Again—wha….huh?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  "But you said….." I realized that my grandmother had never said anything about my mother sleeping around. She just said that she had caused enough problems around town.

  I'd assumed.

  Viola clamped her mouth shut and grabbed the wall. I shot to her side, but she shook her head with her eyes closed and pushed me away. "I can stand on my own."

  A second later, her face cleared of all expression.

  I stood back in awe.

  Then my grandmother stood firm once again. "Your momma wasn't a slut or whore. She wasn't like that and neither are you. You both just fell for the wrong men. I stand by what I said. And you need to stay away from Brady. He's not good for you."

  I couldn't believe what I was seeing or what I was hearing. Everything I believed was a lie. I thought my mom was a certain way and now I found out that she wasn't? Then the room started to spin and I reached out for the wall too. I found a chest instead. From a distance I realized it was Grandpa when I heard his muffled voice, "You didn't need to say it like that, Vi."

  "Look at her. She can't handle it."

  Grandpa curled an arm around my shoulders and held me against him. "She's in shock. She'll need to hear the rest."

  "She can't handle it all," my grandmother replied from a distance. She sounded regretful.

  I tried to focus, but found everything starting to get blurry. A moment later, Grandpa Neil lifted me in the air and took me upstairs. When he laid me on my bed, I barely noticed anything. My eyes were open, but the only thing I saw was a picture. It was of Brady and me. Our arms were wrapped around each other. We'd been wrestling that day. Viola took out a camera and yelled at us to stop. We'd frozen in place, smiled, the camera flashed, and Brady flipped me over his back.

  A tear slipped down my cheek as I stared at that picture. It had been taken last summer. Brady had graduated that morning and told me that he was going to stick around for another year. I'd been so happy because I wasn't going to lose him.

  He'd been my rock. He had steadied me for so long, but everything was different now. I had a gut feeling it was only the beginning. It would get worse, much worse.

  Then I heard his voice. "Hey."

  I didn't react. My eyes were glued to the picture, but I felt him approach from the door. He sat on the side of my bed and took my hand. "I saw you drive by the café and came to get you, but what's going on? Viola's crying downstairs and baking at the same time. That can't be good. Your grandpa didn't even look at me. He's just sitting on the couch and staring at the television. There's some soap on. And now you…"

  I rolled on my back and stared at Brady. He loomed above me. His tribal tattoo stood out on his arm underneath his sleeveless black shirt. I felt like it was shouting its existence at me. When I touched it, I grazed it with my nail.

  "Why did you get this?"

  He retrieved my hand. "Come on."

  "You never told me."

  He looked away. "There's a lot I don't tell you, Rayna."

  "You told me once that you tell me everything."

  "I lied." He hung his head.

  "Everyone lies."

  "Hey, come on." He twisted to look at me again, but I looked at that frame instead.

  I mumbled, "I felt safe that day."

  "What day?"

  "I've never really felt safe, Brady, but I did that day because I knew you'd still be here. I'm not safe, though. I thought I could handle my last year, but things are so complicated. I never knew how complicated it could get, but it is. Everything is a lie. We all lie. I lie to you even."

  Brady sat there for a couple of seconds in silence. Then he asked, "What do you lie to me about?"

  "About how I feel about you. I lied to myself about how I've always felt about you." There. I'd let the cat out of the bag. He'd have to bite, but….I waited as my heart pounded.

  Nothing.

  Brady cleared his throat. "Is this all because of your mom?"

  When I heard his answer, I closed my eyes and felt something tear inside of me. I rolled away from him until there was a foot between us.

  "Viola told me that you're the wrong guy. I can't be around you anymore."

  "What? Oh come on. What are you talking about? It's Kid that she doesn't want you around."

  Frank Stephens could be my father. "I don't think Kid's a problem anymore."

  "Rayna." Brady scooted close to me, but his legs didn't touch mine. He made sure. He didn't want to be too close. "What's going on with you? I feel like I'm losing you or something."

  I looked at him finally and then sat up when I saw the nervousness in him. His blonde hair had been wetted down so it was a sharp contrast between dark and light, but his eyes were the best liars. He looked concerned, genuinely concerned, but I saw that he was hiding. When I looked closer and inspected him as he always seemed to inspect me, I saw that there was a lot there.

  "What are you keeping from me?"

  "Noth—," he started to lie, but stopped. "I keep some of my past from you. I don't tell anyone that stuff, Rayna. It doesn't mean anything about our friendship."

  "Friendship," I said the word. It felt bitter in my mouth. "We are not just friends and I told you that I've been lying about my feelings. Why didn't you ask about my feelings?"

  A wall fell over his eyes. "I've been thinking about this, , and I don't think…ah, hell. I don't know. I just think that with Clarissa going after you and those other girls who made you cry—"

  "You are not taking it back! You can't. We had sex, Brady. I gave myself to you, and I did it because it was you. You have been the one pushing it. You're the one so protective of me with Kid. You're the one hanging all over my inner tube. You're the one that calls me in the morning when you get arrested. You're the one who doesn't want other guys to look at me. You're the one who wants to kiss me after you get out of jail. You're the one who takes me to the doctor so that I can get birth control pills. You’re the one, not me! So don't you dare change things now because if you do, I will lose it. I can't have one more thing change on me."

  Whoo. I fanned myself, but kept glaring at Brady.

  Suddenly my door was thrown open and my grandmother stood there. Her chest was heaving and her eyes were wild. Her greying hair was frayed with strands flailing in the air. She took two hurried steps inside before she stopped abruptly and stuck her jalapeno potholders
on her hips.

  Brady and I looked at each other, but neither said a word. I didn't dare. I was still heaving from my speech to Brady and my grandmother looked like she would let loose in a second.

  "Brady," Viola spoke in a shrill voice. "You need to leave."

  "Oh. Okay. Rayna, I'll call you later?"

  Brady started to get up from the bed, but stopped when my grandmother spoke further, "No, Brady. I mean, if the two of you are having intercourse, then you can't come over here anymore. You can't be in Rayna's life."

  My mouth fell open. So did Brady's, but then his eyes narrowed. "You got a reason for this decision? You can't keep us apart. She's an adult."

  "It's obvious that you two plan on continuing to have sex and I can't have that. I have to look out for Rayna. You can't be in her life. I can't trust that it won't happen again even if you promise me that."

  Slowly, I stood up. "He is my best friend."

  Viola stared at me. "Brady is wrong for you. You can't be around him."

  "He's my only friend."

  "Wrong? What the hell?" Brady stood and clipped out, "I haven't hurt her. Yes, I shouldn't have pushed for sex, but you don't know what I was feeling then. You don't know how scared—" He stopped suddenly and looked down as his fists clenched and then unclenched.

  I watched, fascinated. They kept clenching and unclenching. Then I looked at his face. His eyes were tightly closed. His jaw mirrored his hand movements, clenching and then clenching again. He was so tightly strained. I was afraid when the control would leave him…

  "I can't explain it. I'm sorry, Brady. I….," her voice faltered on a sob. "I am so sorry it has to be this way. I wanted you two to be close. I wanted you to grow up with each other and lean on each other. I just never thought…" She took a shuddering breath. "I never thought it'd end like this. I never thought in a million years…I mean…Brady's so different than my baby."

  I should've been falling apart. I should've been wailing, pleading, or threatening. I wasn't doing any of it. I stood there and stared at the two people who I loved most. They were both falling apart and it was because of me. It was then that I realized that I had checked out. I was watching a show play out in front of me. I was the audience, but I had no bearing on the show's content. Or…maybe I was starting to figure things out, maybe for the first time.

  "I can see Rayna if I want," Brady argued though he wouldn't look up.

  My grandmother shook her head. Her hair strands flew around with the jalapeno potholders in the air. She choked out, "I can't. I can't risk it. I'm sorry, Brady. I love you like my own grandson. I do, but I have to think of Rayna first. This is detrimental to her."

  "What? The sex? Are you for real?" The fury was right there, just swimming under his control. He took a step closer. "Rayna's going to be with another guy then. She's going to have sex, but he won't care for her like me. He won't be the guy for her that I can be!"

  Everything seemed to slam against me. I felt myself hurled back into reality and it hurt. I whispered out, "How dare you stand there and say those things."

  Viola cried out, "I'm sorry, baby. I am, but I can't…"

  My eyes were glued on Brady. "You just sat on my bed and talked about our 'friendship.' You just tried to hide from me, hide from what we've become, and now when you're faced with losing it, you do this? Look at you. What are you going to do? Punch my grandmother? Because she said we couldn't be together when you're the one who was going to tell me the same thing?"

  "Oh." Viola hustled back a step.

  Brady faced me squarely. A storm of emotions flew across his face, but I saw the last one. Regret.

  "Tell me you weren't going to say that. Tell me I'm wrong. You're not fighting against something that you were going to do anyway."

  "Rayna," he started.

  "Tell me!"

  He broke, "I can't. I just…"

  "You are such a hypocrite!" I screamed and then I grabbed the first thing I saw. I threw my pillow at him. When it bounced off him and he didn't deflect it, I threw the other one. Then I threw my blankets, a book, and I caught the frame in my hand. I reared back, ready to throw it, but stopped myself. I stopped with my chest heaving and stared at it in my hand.

  He allowed me to breathe that day and now it was all gone.

  When I looked up, I didn't care what Brady saw in my eyes. My heart was broken. "Get out. Get out. Get out!"

  "Rayna, come on…"

  "Out!" I screamed again and this time I chucked the picture frame at him. He ducked and it shattered against the door.

  I fell on the bed. The pain was so strong. I didn't notice when Brady left until I finally looked up and only saw my grandmother. She held a hand to her chest and watched me in concern. I could barely stomach her concern, not now, not after everything she'd lied to me about.

  It was then that I asked, "So is Frank Stephens my father…or Brady's?"

  I sat there for a full minute; of course it was probably only a few seconds, but it felt like an hour. My grandmother stared aghast while I sat there, tear drenched. I felt like I was facing death. The idea of Brady and me being kin…or more…I shuddered and clamped my hands closed.

  It was the only thing that made sense.

  "Whose father is he because with the way you're acting, he's got to be one of our dads. So who is it?" I sounded firm, but my insides were turning inside and out. When I felt vomit come up my throat, I closed my eyes tightly and forced it back down. I couldn't go there…I couldn't deal with that….not knowing…

  Finally I heard, "He's Brady's."

  She whimpered like she was ashamed. I was disgusted and I turned away.

  I took a breath.

  "And me? Who's my father?" I'd never been told. I barely even knew my mother and I'd never asked. I wanted to know, but if it meant what I feared it meant I knew no amount of vomiting could empty my insides. I loved Brady. I loved him so much and if those words that she might utter passed through her lips…. I sat there paralyzed. They were the hardest words I've ever had to wait for.

  Viola whispered, "I don't know who your father is."

  "Explain." I didn't blink. I didn't ponder. I needed to know.

  "Your mother was one of the most devout girls I've ever known. I was almost ashamed."

  I shot to my feet and exclaimed, "I don't want to hear this! I want to hear who my father is!"

  "I'm trying to tell you. I have to explain, Rayna. I've got to explain it all or it won't make any sense."

  The need sat on me as if it was a separate entity.

  Viola kept going, painfully, "You know I'm not no religion nut. Neither is your granddad, but he believes. I don't know what I did right, or maybe what I did wrong, but your momma grew up going to church. She wanted it. She asked every Sunday to go there. We went, but when she could drive, she drove herself. That was how it was."

  She took a breath.

  "I have never claimed to be the best mother. Ever. But with your mother…she was a lot like you. I felt like she raised me. I don't know what genes you girls got, but what's done is done. She ain't anything like me. She grew up going to church. She planned for the future. Leann liked bake sales. I have no idea why and then…" She drew in a quaking breath. "He came along. He was young. He was good looking. He was rich. He was on the rise."

  "Frank Stephens?" There was nothing in me when I said his name, my possible father. I almost loathed him.

  Viola nodded. "When Frank first hit the scene, he was dashing. I'll admit. He had a charisma about him. And he was funny. He could charm anyone. I was a bit taken with him myself, but that's all an old lady does. She looks at what might've been without a few years attached, but it don't matter. It all changed when he met Leann. Of course, he was married by then. Newly married, but he wasn't the marrying sorts. Everyone knew it."