Page 18 of The Other Side

“I’ll buy the next round, but you’re on your own after that,” I say through a tentative smile. “Two drinks are my limit. Always.”

The bartender returns, placing our full snifter glasses in front of us. While his credit card is swiped, Brant lifts the drinks and turns to hand me mine. “My manners aren’t really up for debate,” he answers casually. Then he’s raising his beer between us, our eyes locked in a dark sea of hideous truths. “Always,” he echoes.

His voice is woven with the same promise.

To me.

To himself.

Always.

We clink our glasses before tasting the drinks. The refreshing notes of citrus drop into my mouth, and I lick the sweet remnants after.

“I’ll leave the tab open in case you want another. Come on.” Brant tilts his head toward the main floor, and I follow him until we sit at a bar-height table.

I place my beer on the wooden top, hanging my crossbody strap over the back of the chair. Brant shrugs his bomber jacket off, and I sink into my seat.

My blood runs hot when the taut ridges of his arms bleed through the fabric of his long-sleeve. His broad shoulders maneuver as he situates himself to take another sip of beer. Then I’m peeling my denim jacket off.

“How long have you been in New York?” I ask. My eyes inadvertently trace the thin chain disappearing behind the collar of his shirt.

“Just shy of a year.”

I smirk at him, freeing my hands from my denim sleeves. “I hope the next set of answers gets longer.”

His forearms lay down so he can interlock his fingers. “After Yorkstone, I settled at a firm in Rhode Island. But when I milked that job for all it was worth, I looked elsewhere.” He softly inhales, his gaze veering to the side before returning to me. “My roommate from college happened to be renting out his uncle’s place on Long Island. We touched base, and once I found a promising job here, we picked up where we left off. The rest is history.”

I gulp past the boulder in my throat, envy seeping through my skin. It occurs to me that he lived a whole other life those four years in college. Just like me.

I didn’t witness a crumb of it.

There’s not a single memory for us to share.

Just stories.

“How was college?” I add faintly, needing to know.

He wraps a palm around his glass of beer, mindlessly roaming his gaze over it. A skewed grin flashes from him before he speaks. “College was everything I needed it to be,” he finally says. “It was great. It was fun. It kept me busy.” He flicks his eyes to mine. His Adam’s apple rolls as his hazel irises glint with a relief. “It was worth it.”

I beam inside.

And every ounce of that bliss is authentic.

My arms cross over my chest, my palms cupping my arms as I lean over the table. If there’s anyone in this world who deserves a happy ending like that, it’s Brant.

Just as he’s granted that solace, so am I.

For so long, I’ve replayed that final screaming match under those loblolly pine trees. How my words weren’t the ones I wanted to say, but the ones I knew I had to. And if I could travel in reverse, I know I’d make that same decision every single time. Knowing I’d be staring at him like this right now.

He looks like the boy I once knew.

The boy with big wishes and an even bigger heart. Only now, he’s the boy that chased and conquered those dreams. I always wondered what he’d look like when he finally got here, but my imagination was flawed.

He’s invincible.

Damn.

“Yeah,” I simply say.