“You said you’d never been loved . . .”
“Ah.” Brandy whisked back to his pan. “Her name was Isabella.”
Isabella. A her. That . . . huh.
His stomach gave a funky twist and tried to find safe haven in his kneecaps. Sympathy, that’s what this was. He felt for Brandy.
“What was she like?”
“She was a whirlwind of energy. Synonymous with spontaneity. Wherever her heart led her, she followed. That was to me, for a time. Until it was to someone else.”
“She broke your heart.” The words rasped in his throat.
“It was a few years ago. I became quite the fool around her.”
“All men are fools in love.”
“And you yearn for it?”
“Fool forever. I hope she went on to live a miserable life.”
Brandon’s lips curved sadly. “She lives across the city, Kapua Hill.”
Zach shook his head slowly. “No-no-no. Don’t tell me you’re still friends with her.”
“I’m still friends with her.”
“Of course you are. You’re much too nice.”
“I forgave her. I only understand now why she was so fixated on herself.”
“Why?”
“She has early onset Alzheimer’s. Diagnosed this year. She knew it was coming.”
Pain flashed over Brandy’s face, and the island became a blur as Zach skidded around it and threw his arms around him. “I’m so sorry.”
“She’s in treatment. That will slow down the progression. I visit when I can.”
“Are you . . .” Zach clung onto that heavily breathing warmth. “Are you still in love with her?”
Brandy’s head moved from side to side, brushing up against Zach’s. His answer tickled down his neck. “Not for years.”
Zach pulled back. “It’ll be a hard feat finding someone for you, Brandy. No one will be good enough.” He moved to the pan and inhaled. Delicious. “Are you like, completely straight?”
Brandy picked up his wine and reclined against the island, sipping. “I’m attracted to personalities.”
“Energetic and spontaneous, like Isabella’s?”
“Yes.”
Cool. Yeah, Zach would find him someone. “Prepare the Tupperware. Some of this is going to Noah.”
“Do you want to eat with him?”
“He won’t let me, so you’re stuck with me for the evening. Don’t go getting ideas about lounging in front of the TV, either. I’ve snooped around your records, and dude. We have work to do.”
The rest of the week played out in similar fashion. Wednesday to Friday was the best: not only did he get to hang out with Brandy over dinner, but they hung out lunches too. Wentworth showed him around the Studios and got him tasked with drafting jigs for the Ask Austen segment, and he made a new friend. Lake. The guy was a wealth of ideas for finding Brandy’s perfect match. Like he was a born matchmaker or something.
They’d chat more about it next week.
First, the weekend.
The glorious, glorious weekend.
Guitar strapped across his back, he walked barefoot in the sand, Brandy beside him. A high morning tide bit at their ankles, and Brandy smiled each time. Here was a man Zach could trust with . . . with his guitar.
Brandy led him to a shallow cave. “Here we are. I hope the drive was worth it.”
Worst ten minutes of his life. Yikes. Why did roads have to wind like that?
Zach settled on one of the rocks piled up the side walls of the cave. The cold seeped through his denim, but oh, the sound. He strummed his guitar and sang, and the acoustics! Worth it. Every second of that drive.
Brandy listened quietly.
Zach plucked the last notes and looked towards the mouth of the cave. “You don’t like it?”
“Why do you think that?”
“No smile.”
“Sometimes, Zach, smiling is not enough.”
Zach strummed again. “Are you saying the music has rendered you smileless?”
Brandy tipped his head and laughed. He looked different today. The jeans. Zach wasn’t used to seeing Brandy out of a suit—or a onesie. The jeans moulded to his legs, and his casual jacket made him look more down to earth. He still had that undeniable Captain America broadness about him, but, like, a nature-lover version.
Zach wanted to walk mountains with him.
“Play something else.”
Zach played, until his fingers hurt and his voice croaked. He played until Brandy started singing along.
He played until he caught sight of the Churchills walking their dog.
“Quick, hide!”
Brandy blinked at him. “Sorry?”
Zach leaned his guitar on a rock and shoved Brandy into the shadows cloaking the back wall.
“The Churchills.”
“What, West’s parents?”
“How do you—? Right, yes, them. Real conversionist types, hardcore religious. Whenever they catch me, I get a twenty-minute lecture on how to save myself. Anyway, they’re horrible. We always hide when we spot the Churchills.” Zach glanced behind them; the dog seemed closer than before. “They’re also ridiculously nosy. We have to keep them out of here.”
“We don’t own the cave.”
“Then we have to do something so they’ll . . . they’ll walk right past. In defence of their morals.”
“Like what?”
“Like—” Zach grabbed Brandy and spun them until Brandy crowded him against the cool rock. He yanked him closer still. Heat burrowed into him at his thighs, chest. He tucked his forehead against Brandy’s neck. Surprised breath combed through Zach’s hair.
