Page 52 of Falls From Grace
Brynn’s heart cracked in two. She gazed at Savannah, both of them crying. All she wanted in the entire world was to pull her into her arms, stroke her hair, soothe her tears, promise her she’d fix everything, to kiss her, hold her tight and never let her go.
“Okay,” she whispered instead.
Savannah nodded, her eyes on Brynn’s face. Then she turned on her heel and walked away.
Brynn was packing when Noah came in. He took one look at her face and crumpled.
“I’m so sorry, Brynn,” he said shamefacedly, sinking down on the bed next to her open suitcase. “I should have listened to you.”
“No.” She looked at her feet. “Savannah was right. I made my own choices. And you only ever did this for me. I’m sorry I’m such a fuckup.”
“You’re not a fuckup.” Noah nudged her foot with his own. “Or rather, we both are, it turns out.” He stood up and walked over toward the wardrobe before pulling out his own suitcase.
“Noah, no,” she protested. “I’ll be okay. You don’t have to leave as well.”
“Actually,” he announced, “I do. Savannah kicked me out too.”
Brynn didn’t think anything could make her feel worse, but now she found it could.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, sitting down on the bed with a thump. He looked up.
“Don’t look like that.” He gave her a wry smile. “We did what we came for. We wrote some killer tracks with a killer artist. It might have all imploded in a trash fire at the end,” he shrugged, “but those songs are forever.”
She nodded slowly, thinking about that for a moment. Their songs - theirs and Savannah’s - out there for the rest of time. She didn’t know if that made it better or worse. She stood up again and started to pack. She drifted around the guesthouse, picking up shirts and socks. As she lifted up her sweater, a tiny yellow digger fell out and her heart broke all over again.
Her knock was tentative, but it didn’t take long for the upstairs suite’s door to swing open. Savannah stood there, her hair mussed and her eyes red. She looked confused and then outraged.
“I thought I told you-”
“Please let me say goodbye to him,” Brynn was trying but failing not to weep. Savannah stared at her, speechless.
“He’s asleep,” she said finally. “I don’t want you upsetting him.”
“I won’t,” she promised. “I won’t wake him. Please don’t make me leave without saying goodbye.” She stared fiercely down at the digger clutched between her fingers. Savannah followed her eyes and then nodded briefly.
Brynn followed the woman she loved and couldn’t have, down the hall to the room of the child she loved and couldn’t have. Savannah opened the door and peeked in at her sleeping son.
“Be quick,” was all she said. “Please don’t be here when I come back.” Her shoulders were tense as she walked across the hall and closed the door behind her with a solid click.
Brynn crept in. Tucker was asleep on his side. In the dim light she could see the soft tangle of his curly hair, the snub of his tiny nose, his sweet pout. His little pudgy hand lay relaxed beside him. She stood there, wishing she could snuggle him up, trying to comprehend that she was never going to see him again.
“Goodbye, little buddy,” she whispered into the darkness, placing his digger beside his pillow where he’d see it when he woke up. “I’ll… miss you. Be good for your mama.”
She walked to the doorway where she just barely held back a sob, then carefully closed his bedroom door.
She turned as she heard a movement behind her and saw Lane step out from their own bedroom partway down the hall. They were wearing Shrek-themed flannel pajama pants and a baggy black t-shirt and had never looked so young. Their face regarded her with absolute sorrow.
Brynn paused as she passed their room.
“I fucked it up,” she confirmed quietly as Lane watched her.
“Damn,” they said with proper feeling. “I thought so.”
“Look after him?” She gestured towards Tucker’s room. “And her, please.”
Lane straightened their spine, raised their chin and looked at her seriously.
“I will. Don’t worry.” Then they paused. “Are we hugging friends yet?
