Brad and Steve were sitting on the porch at a cautious distance from each other. Steve was at the top of the steps with his elbows on his knees, Brad with his back against one of the wooden posts, one long leg stretched out and the other bent with his right arm draped over his knee.

Sounds of cooking, washing and baking could be heard faintly through the screen door as the sun began it's daily descent.

"I did what I felt was right", Brad said quietly, looking at the grayish-blue paint curling up on the patio boards.

Steve silently observed the friend he hadn't seen for fifteen years. Brad looked much the same yet so changed. He had more defined upper body strength, and a leaner face where heavy burdens had left lines behind. He seemed weighed-down, burdened, alone, and quietly suffering. Steve felt a pang of sadness and empathy.

"Did you steal the cars?", Steve asked.

Brad casually shook his head and met Steve's gaze. "No".

Steve felt his frustration rising. "I knew you didn't! I never believed you did! So WHY did you lie to me, throw away eight years of your life, and break your mom's heart? For what?"

"I had a hard decision to make. I wasn't totally innocent, either. I knew what was happening but I didn't report it.  I should have but I didn't want to see our friends go to prison. I was there for some of the thefts even though I didn't physically steal them myself. I thought I was doing the right thing, trying to talk some sense into them, but I should have gone to the police right away before it got as dangerous as it did".

Brad was gazing off down the driveway now, seeing a past that he couldn't change, and wishing it would have turned out a million ways different than the way it did.

Steve was waiting, listening, still angry, but patiently giving Brad the space he needed to unburden himself.

"Mark was going to be a dad. Brandon was providing for his sisters because his dad couldn't, or wouldn't, find work.  The police were putting pressure on their buyers, who took it out on them. Mark was beaten so badly he ended up in the hospital with a concussion. If the detectives didn't get closure on the case...they had to have somebody. I didn't want my friends to end up dead.  Before I had been worried about them getting locked up and now I just wanted them to stay alive. I worried they might come after me, or my mom to get at me".

Steve cringed. Brandon and Mark had been his friends, also. The girl Mark got pregnant was Brad's ex, the only girl Steve ever remembered him being serious about. Steve guessed she might have been the main motivation, despite her name being left out of this story. By Brad confessing, it took Mark off the hook so he could be there for her.

Brad continued quietly, "So I turned myself in, confessed. I knew all the details. They never questioned the validity. Gave them the buyers to take away from my time and to get that scum off the streets. A win-win situation", he met Steve's gaze, "for everyone but me".

Steve sighed and looked away. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for ya", he finally said. "I felt like you were abandoning your mother, and I couldn't understand why you would do that. She was so good to me. To us. It broke her heart to see ya do that".

"I know", Brad said, picking at his jeans.

"Neither of us could understand it. We didn't know what motive you would have for lyin' but we couldn't picture you stealin' either. But then some people in the neighborhood said they had seen you hangin' around that group and I figured there musta been some truth to it. I also never thought you would lie to me, so I finally decided it must've been real. I had no idea all this ran so deep". Steve rubbed his forehead and tried to comprehend what his friend had done to protect the people he loved.

"Why didn'tcha tell me all this back then?", Steve wondered out loud.

"Because you would have forced me to tell the truth instead. And if I hadn't done so, you would have done it for me".

Steve nodded. He knew he would have done as Brad said.

The patio door squeaked open slowly and both men looked up. Paige leaned out, contemplative and concerned, apparently more so for Brad, as his was the face her emerald green hazel eyes searched for information.  She had shed her flannel, and a couple inches of her waist was visible in the gap between her white tank and her denim shorts.

"Supper is ready" she said, turning to Steve, "if you boys are ready".

"We'll be right in", he frowned, observing his friend watching her turn and head back in, barefoot and unaffected by the disapproval of her fiancé toward her attire. His not liking the way she was dressed was a chronic argument which he never seemed to win. He thought she was beautiful, of course, but he just didn't understand why she needed to show so much of her body to the rest of the world.  It should be for one man alone. Him. He didn't consider himself jealous, simply protective. He worried about her. She was so small and friendly, and men liked her. Really. All men liked her, which she seemed oblivious to. She was slim yet curvy, soft in all the right places and firm in all the others. She was striking but approachable. A dangerous combination as far as he was concerned.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you like", he said to his friend, "and she's a good cook".  Steve rose from the steps.

"Thanks", Brad said, as Steve reached down a hand to help him up, "for everything. For listening".

"I'm just sorry I didn't listen sooner", Steve said, embracing his friend and clapping him on the back.

...........................................................................

Paige had the square walnut table set for two with the dishes sitting on the table. Breaded chicken, rice, broccoli, chicken gravy, and a fresh loaf of bread greeted the men, who quickly sat and started to dig in.

Brad looked over into the kitchen where Paige was bustling about, cleaning up and putting away. "You're not going to join us?", he inquired.

"No, I'm going to take a plate upstairs with me and let you two catch up", she said decisively. "I've got to shower and get through some emails, then I'll be back down in a bit".

"Alright, hun", Steve said, filling up his plate with his back to her. "You gonna put some more clothes on before you come back down, right?"

Brad froze, fork mid-way to his mouth, and held his breath. He anticipated an explosion.

Paige had stopped what she was doing, stood completely still and stared at the back of Steve's head with a murderous glare as her cheeks turned so red they were nearly purple.

"Of course, dear", she replied, and Brad found himself wondering if Steve was brave or just plain stupid.

Paige grabbed the plate she had made for herself with a bottle of water and her phone, and headed to the stairs without meeting Brad's eyes.

"When's the wedding?", Brad cautiously ventured as soon as she was out of earshot.

Steve sighed. "She can't make up her mind. I don't have a preference when, where, or anythin' else about it. We could go to the courthouse tomorrow for all I care".

"She didn't strike me as the indecisive type", Brad said thoughtfully.

"I wouldn'ta thought it either", Steve puzzled, "but she's been that way lately. She loves making things look nice, redecorated most of the offices at work over the past year, but I can't get her to commit to which room she wants to work on here next. I don't want to do it without her input, so the house sits". He took a big bite and chewed. "Plenty to be done around here", he finished.

"I didn't notice a ring, either," Brad continued.

Didn't notice? He had actively looked at both hands and she definitely had no rings on any finger.

"You pick one yet?", he pressed.

Steve looked confused and frustrated. "I proposed with one, down on one knee and everything, but she won't wear it. Says it's too big. I told her to take it in and I'd pay whatever to get it the right size but I guess she's been too busy to have done that".

He buttered some bread with a frown.

.............................................................................

What a complete ass!!!

I would have liked to take one of the knives that were so handily accessible in the kitchen right then and stabbed it through his heathen back.

Steve meant well. I know he did. He wasn't malicious, manipulative, angry, or really anything like me. As I had mentioned to Brad, he was really just very black and white, morally upright, and kinda boring. He had always nitpicked at my clothing choices. I mean, in public, that is.  He could care less what I wore at home. In fact, I felt like he hardly even noticed what I looked like unless other people were around. It really bothered him if he felt like I was dressing in a way that would draw too much male attention.

He wasn't like Jay, either. Not controlling and not jealous, but very protective, smothering almost. I usually ignored him because I didn't like to be told what to do.

What did he mean by saying that in front of Brad, though? Why would he do that? I stomped my way upstairs, feeling completely humiliated. Did Steve feel like putting me in my place, asserting some male dominance over me to get back for the underhanded way I played the two of them today? Possibly. That really wasn't like him, though.

Did he just feel so comfortable with Brad that he was okay talking to me like no one else was around? Doubtful. Even if he once was, they only spent a little over an hour trying to make up for fifteen years.

Well, I don't know what it was about but now I was angry, so I couldn't eat. I had what I've heard older women call a 'nervous stomach'. If I was upset, I felt sick to my stomach, and if I ate when it felt like that, things only got worse. I didn't mind too much because it was basically impossible for me to overeat, as I was always worrying about one thing or another, and it kept me slim.

So I opened my laptop, caught up on what I had missed at work today, got a gameplan for the next day, and got through the shower.

I was actually hungry then, but the meal wasn't very appealing cold, so I choked down what I could talk myself into, then busied myself getting things ready for Brad to stay.

I headed back down to see Steve cleaning up and putting away the leftovers, and Brad sitting at the island looking out of place.

"I can handle all this if you guys want to talk out on the porch or have a drink or something",  I said to Steve.

"I think we're about talked out for tonight, Paigie, but why don't you have a go while I get ready for bed". He wiped a plate and leveled a meaningful look my direction. "And then you and I are gonna have a chat".

"Sounds good", I smiled brightly at him.

I was expecting it. He really would make an excellent dad some day. He was so serious, and so dedicated to proper behavior.

I grabbed my Tennessee Fire Whiskey out of the liquor cabinet and waved it in front of Brad's face. "Do you drink?", I asked innocently.

"Sure", he smiled, seeming genuinely amused.  I think that was the fullest smile I had seen on his face thus far.

Scooting around Steve as he worked, I grabbed two short glasses, tossed a handful of ice in each, and headed to the back deck, motioning with my head to Brad. "Follow me".

He followed and quickly got ahead of me to open the sliding patio door. The back deck was the first thing Steve had replaced and it was my favorite part of the entire house. It was large yet cozy. The upper tier was covered, with a railing. We had truly comfortable, expensive, outdoor furniture picked by yours truly. Six steps down was a paved area with a fire pit and more seating. The creek and all of nature could be heard back here. I loved sitting and listening to the animals and water, and watching the sky.

I poured an equal amount in each glass and handed one to him. "You drink this straight?", he asked, with one eyebrow cocked.

I threw my head back and laughed out loud. "Is there any other way? You can't mix it! That would ruin the flavor!"

He looked seriously amused but also skeptical.

I took a sip. I loved it. My absolute favorite drink. It tasted like a red hot candy. It burned a little at first but not a choking, gagging burn. The burn subsided and turned to a relaxing warmth after subsequent sips.  The warmth spread throughout my entire body. It usually didn't take much of it to melt my stress away.

He tried it. His face told me it was stronger than he expected but he didn't hate it.

"Give it a second and take another sip", I advised him. "The secret to enjoy it is small sips.  Oh, but don't inhale as you're drinking because that will burn your nostrils".

"Okay", he said, looking slightly uncomfortable.

I laughed at him again and leaned my elbows on the railing to survey the view, drink cradled between both hands.

He copied me.

"Thanks for dinner. It was really good", he complimented me.

"No problem", I assured him. "One of the last foster moms I had thought it would be necessary for me to learn domestic skills. While I was annoyed by it at the time, I certainly have been thankful for the skill ever since. It saves a ton of money and it's actually easier to eat at home instead of trying to decide where to eat and drive to do so every night".

"It's been so long since I've had a home-cooked meal, I can't remember when the last one was", he said in his deep voice. I loved listening to him talk.

"I'm glad I could help", I said. My heart ached for how absolutely alone this man was.

I heard the shower turn on upstairs.

Brad bumped my forearm with his and teased, "I see you put on some less scandalous clothes now. Thank you for protecting my virtuous sensibilities". 

To pacify Steve, I had put on loose black yoga pants, an old short sleeve navy blue shirt, and a lightweight gray zip sweatshirt.

I wasn't very much amused, but I really didn't mind, either. His teasing didn't feel spiteful. I looked over at him. He was close to me. The sun was mostly down and it was getting dark. Looking into his eyes grabbed me and held me prisoner as it had earlier. It was difficult to break eye contact, difficult to breathe.  I didn't like it but I loved it at the same time. I forced myself to look away and refrained from commenting.

"I didn't take you for someone who obeyed easily", he pried.

"I'm not", I assured him, "but I wasn't going to rock a boat on already stormy seas, was I?" 

I took another sip.

"You're not...afraid of him at all, are you?", he ventured. 

I looked at him. He was being genuinely concerned.

"Oh, good God, no", I assured him. "I can handle Steve. He's typically a pushover, but I can take one for the team once in awhile, so to speak. A smart girl picks and chooses her battles".

"I see", he said quietly. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned in ever so slightly, and in a confidential tone asked, "So can I ask for what motive this smart girl chose to not tell me she was engaged to my estranged best friend?"

Shit.

I knew that was coming too, and I was dreading it.

"I'm sorry", I simply said. "You have every right to ask". I looked at my glass.

"Would it be enough to tell you that I thought you were gorgeous and I preferred to spend two hours flirting with you?", I asked hopefully, with a little glance and a smile to see how that would be received.

He studied me for what felt like a long while as I fidgeted with the glass in my hands.  "Well, I didn't think you were flirting, but you're not turning bright red either, so it's not a complete lie".

"Ah, I shouldn't have told you my secret", I blushed. "Now you're catching on too well".

I really didn't mind if he knew I thought he was attractive. I was a very direct person. If I liked something about someone, I told them. Male or female- it didn't matter. It only took a second to boost someone's confidence and I appreciated when people did it for me.

He waited silently. It was maddening yet calming to me. I was captivated by his demeanor. Every movement he made, every word he spoke, seemed intentional, purposeful. He could be so incredibly still, whereas I was filled with nervous energy all the time. Some part of me always had to be moving, fidgeting.  I loathed sitting, and silence made me uncomfortable. I paced and prattled and bustled myself into exhaustion so I could actually sleep at night, yet sleep often escaped me still.  I felt like his calm could almost spread to me, like the whiskey moving through my veins. I could feel this calm around me with how close he stood, and I really wanted to rest in it.

I finally spoke. I did feel like he deserved an explanation. "I'm not sure I should tell you what I really have to say about all that. He's your friend, not me, and I don't think it's fair to involve you in my problems with him".

"You can't be my friend too?", he asked.

He was looking at me. Again I met his gaze and felt deeply pulled in.

"I'm okay telling you anything", I said.  "You're actually really easy to talk to. I just don't want to make you have any kind of a negative opinion of Steve, especially when my goal was for the two of you to be friends again".

"I want to know", was his response. He didn't seem mad, simply persistent.

I took another sip and then looked at him. "I'll tell you", I said, "but it's going to have to wait until tomorrow because I've used up all my emotional energy for today". My voice betrayed me and wavered, and I looked away before my eyes could betray me, as well.  I was not one to willingly display vulnerability before anyone. It had always been used against me in the past so my instinct was to hide it.

The wind blew, bringing a chill. Fall was slowly blowing in. Some strands of my hair landed on his arm.  My hair was a chore.  It was thick and hung close to my waist when it was loose.  Currently it was still damp and back to it's naturally curly, wavy, bad-eighties-perm status. I watched the strands sitting on his muscular forearm.  He casually reached over with his other hand and touched the tips. "The ends are blond", he observed, "but in the car you said you didn't dye your hair".

"Yeah. It gets lighter in the summer. Gold highlights pop out and the ends turn really blond. I haven't gotten around to cutting it yet".

I was immensely impressed he had remembered one of my statements of the 'two truths and a lie' I told him in the car. "I can't believe you remembered that little detail", I laughed. "Steve never listens to anything I say even if I shout it directly in his face".

He casually wound the strand around his finger. "I like it", he said.

I snorted. "I don't. It's so messy and chaotic. I can't just leave it be. I literally need to spend time on it every day".

"Sounds like life", he mused. "It's messy and it requires us to work at it daily".

He dropped the strand. "You said you plan to tell me tomorrow? What if I wanted to head home tonight?"

I quickly met his eyes. I had assumed. Was that offensive to him?

"Have you decided you're going to call in sick to your work tomorrow and come meet with Andy for an interview instead?", I asked, smiling brightly.

He smirked. "And if I actually said no?"

I quickly downed the last of my whiskey. "I'd beg you to reconsider making me drive another four hours under the influence".

I smiled sweetly, reveling in the fulfillment of my plans. Nothing was more satisfying than when the plans all came together like this.

"Does anyone ever tell you no?", he asked, looking a little annoyed.

I thought for a moment. "Not really", I shrugged.

He shook his head slowly, swallowed the rest of his drink, then looked at me, waiting.

"Let me show you your room", I said graciously, and took his empty glass as he followed me back inside and upstairs.

"I set out extra towels for you on the cabinet in the bathroom, and a toothbrush and toothpaste", I said, pointing to the bathroom door which was still shut.

"This is Steve's room and your room", I informed him, pointing to the two rooms on the left.  "And that's my room and a bunch of boxes of junk", I said, pointing to the two on the right.

He looked down at me with one raised eyebrow. "You have a house together, and are engaged, but you have separate rooms?"  He was clearly puzzled.

"It's Steve's house", I assured him firmly, flushing. "I moved in three months ago".

I grabbed his upper arm and steered him to the room I had set up for him.  "I pulled out some of Steve's clothes for you to pick from to wear  tomorrow. I know you're not exactly the same size, but these run a little small and he never wears them, so they might work. Here are some options for pajamas. I don't know what you prefer but hopefully something fits. If not, let me know and I'll see what else I can find".

He stood there, bemused. "Steve doesn't care if I wear his clothes?"

I scrunched up my forehead, dumbfounded. "Why on earth would Steve care?"

Clothes, fashion, trends, and appearance in general were things Steve wasted very little energy on. He was always well groomed but more out of army habit than actual interest.

"Steve probably wouldn't even recognize any of these items as belonging to him", I assured Brad, shaking my head in exasperation.

That was only one of the many areas in which Steve and I didn't understand each other.

"Okay".  He looked around. "Thank you", he replied earnestly.

"You're welcome", I said.

Steve stuck his head in. "If you're done mothering him, I'm ready for you".

I glanced at Brad, who was watching me in his quietly observing way.

"We need to leave at quarter to eight tomorrow morning. Is there anything else you can think of that you might need?", I pressed.

He shook his head no.

"Alright, you know where to find me if you do", I said brightly and headed out to deal with Steve, pulling the door shut behind me.

"Oh!", I popped my head back in. "Yeah don't try to go outside during the night. Steve's got everything alarmed. We're on lockdown", I laughed.

...........................................................................

Brad held up some of the pajama items to himself, listening intently to see if he could hear the conversation about to take place. He wasn't worried exactly because he knew Steve to be steady and rational, but something was definitely not right between the two of them. He didn't like the stern way Steve had told her they were going to have a chat. And if he was being honest with himself, which he always was, his loyalty was with her now...the girl he barely knew instead of the man who was basically his brother.

He was inexplicably drawn to her like a magnet. No, more like gravity, he thought. When she was near he could feel it. The hours he spent with her today were some of the strangest hours of his life. He wanted to say yes to her, to please her, to follow her anywhere she may go. He was not a people-pleaser, especially not now. He knew when he was leaving the city with her, that had she been a man requesting him to reconcile with Steve, he would have told him to piss off. But she was a lovely, charming, persistent little woman, with captivating eyes and an underlying vulnerability that she smothered with her strong will.

The fact that she was definitely strong and resilient only made that vulnerability more appealing. He was humbled that she had opened up to him so quickly, telling him the pain of her past. His heart leapt to protect her from further harm, even from Steve. He had felt that his brain would explode from unexpressed rage, his blood pressure was so high from hearing about that pile of human filth abusing her. And then she actually apologized to him for making him uncomfortable with the story!

Brad had the impression she must have spent a lot of time apologizing for things she didn't need to apologize for. She seemed uncomfortable with sadness and negativity, always brushing it quickly aside and moving on to something else. It wasn't false positivity, either, he mused, just practicality.

None of the pajamas were going to fit. He could hear murmurs of voices but couldn't make out any words so he headed to the shower.

.............................................................................

Steve wasn't angry with me, just disappointed. He didn't like me going behind his back, he didn't like me putting myself into dangerous situations, blah, blah, blah.

So I figured, and was able to live with, his disappointment. He probably also didn't like me driving a car or having a job either.

"You want me to sleep in here tonight?", he asked.

I raised my eyebrows. "Uh, nooooo....I got a lot of shit to do still. The light's gonna be on for awhile".

He hesitated. What was his deal right now? Did he need comforting?  Brad digging up sad memories from the past maybe? I started to feel a little sympathetic for my big lug.

"Well, Paigie, I thought maybe you might be feeling a little nervous about another man stayin' in the house", he said, looking slightly embarrassed.

"What, that? That's your concern?" I was incredulous and frustrated that he could be so slow and backward sometimes. "That is the very least of my worries right now! Seriously, Steven, what the hell!?" I shoved him toward the door.

"Well, lock your door if you want. Or come to my room later", he continued, basically oblivious to anything I had said.

"Steve, like usual, you're not listening", I snapped as I shoved his immovable bulk. "I'm fine. Brad's safe. I have a gun. You taught me to use it. Get out!"

"Alright, hun".  He turned and kissed my forehead. "Love you".

"Love you, too".  I sighed.

I did love him, but not in the way I felt I needed to if I was going to marry him.

When he finally left my room I picked up my phone and started texting my brother the updates of where we were at. He was excited to meet Brad and we planned to do that right away in the morning. I was not the head of the HR Department, as that position was filled with a totally capable woman before I arrived on the scene, but I did have some royalties being sister to the boss.

I simply sent my boss, Heidi, an email letting her know that I needed flexibility tomorrow and why, and rearranged my schedule where I could to open up time for Brad. I was going to have to stay late regardless, with missing a day today, so I would plan for Steve to bring Brad home with him at the end of the day.

It was quite some time before I was able to feel ready to sleep so I just clicked away at the administrative tedious tasks I could do from here, to give myself a cushion on my morning. When I finally felt tired I laid on my pillow for a long time, picturing the beautiful face I had memorized today. Every line, every detail. My stomach and heart kept leaping and fluttering around when I thought about him, which made it hard to relax enough to drift off. I certainly didn't expect that today. An intense attraction to someone I had brought here specifically to be with Steve when I left. Every other detail had pretty much gone according to my plan.

Now I had a complication, but it was only my feelings, which I could control. Or could I?  What if it wasn't just me? Had he been flirting with me today? Or was he being himself? He didn't strike me as the flirting type but his demeanor seemed different around me alone versus when Steve was present. I couldn't decide. I was still turning this over in my head when I finally fell asleep.

.............................................................................

Brad had heard a raised voice, just hers, once, for a short time. He stuck his head out of the curtain and listened intently. He heard her door open and shut, then heavy footsteps going across the hall. Steve had left her room. Probably everything was okay then.

He resumed scrubbing his hair.

And if it wasn't okay? Then what?

You're going to pummel the man you grew up with, in his own house, to defend the honor of a woman you just met, who belongs to him?

Undoubtedly yes.

He finished showering and getting ready for bed then quietly headed back into the room she had prepared for him. It was nice and clean but felt empty. As Steve had mentioned, nothing had been painted, no decorations were on the walls, no photos on the dressers...nothing.

So, she doesn't want to be with him anymore and she didn't realize that until she moved in, he mused, as he laid down and turned off the light. A lot of the snippits of conversations throughout the day were starting to come together and weave an answer in his mind. Her intentions were probably upright about wanting him to reconcile but the job offer was only a cover.

She doesn't want to leave Steve alone to grieve when she up and leaves him because that will make her feel bad. So that's really what she's hauled me here for.

He chuckled softly out loud as he figured it out.

Well, shit, he thought. The good news is, she's available- or will be anyway. The bad news is that she's currently with my best friend...and when she isn't, she will have broken his heart. So either way she's still off-limits to me unless I want to go back to being on his bad side.

I guess I'm still in purgatory, he mused, as he drifted off, just as I was thinking maybe she was sent here to save me.

.............................................................................

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