It’s small so there’s not a lot of room. My grill is in the right corner, and then the two chairs on the other side, no more than five feet away from the barbecue. The charcoal just turned gray enough for me to put the burgers on. There’s beer left from when Logan was here so before Brand comes out, I call through the sliding screen door, “There’s beer in the fridge if you want one.” “Thanks.” His words drift through the house hitting me with this ridiculous sense of shock that Brandon Chase is in my apartment right now. When he called things off, it was like someone carved my heart out of my chest. Yeah, dramatic but true. I knew, when he had the balls to do that, I knew we were done. And we still are. That knowledge is in the back of my head. We don’t have a future. I know Brandon. He’s going to work his ass off and he’ll play ball again and he won’t ever come out to his team. And yet, he’s here and I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact. When the screen squeaks behind me, I lean forward so Brandon can get past me to sit in the other chair, before putting my feet up on the railing.
