Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice, Chapter 22 (Heavy Hearts)

Brandon arrived at work the next morning, his face marked by a fresh, purple bruise around his left eye. As he walked past his coworkers, he felt their eyes on him, followed by murmurs and whispers he pretended not to hear. He sat down at his desk, feeling the weight of the previous night settling over him like a dark cloud.

The sting of Damarae’s punch was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. He hadn’t felt this low in years, and though he knew he’d brought it on himself, the regret was almost too much to bear. Taking a deep breath, he turned his attention to the mountain of work in front of him, deciding that if he could clear his tasks before the Thanksgiving break, maybe he could start next week fresh. The hours flew by, his phone lying silent and untouched on his desk, with no notifications, no messages, nothing to distract him from the mountain of tasks he worked through.

At lunchtime, he went to the sandwich shop around the corner and picked up his usual order. He glanced around, half-expecting to see Damarae, but the shop was empty except for a few strangers who paid him no mind. He returned to his desk, eating quietly while focusing on finishing his workload. By the time five o’clock came around, he had finished everything, but instead of feeling relieved, he felt emptier than ever.

After gathering his things, Brandon made his way to his car, sinking into the driver’s seat. He closed the door and rested his hands on the steering wheel, his fingers gripping it tightly as the emotions he’d been holding back all day began to surface. Unable to keep it in any longer, he lowered his head, the weight of his own choices and jealousy crashing over him as he quietly sobbed, alone in the dimly lit parking lot.

Across town, Jazlyn was sitting on the couch with a book, trying to enjoy a quiet evening when Roberto joined her, remote in hand, ready to turn on the TV. He leaned back, exhaling with satisfaction as he flipped through channels, his arm resting casually along the back of the couch.

Jazlyn looked up from her book, her expression soft but curious. “I spoke to Laura today.”

Roberto raised an eyebrow, glancing over at her. “Oh yeah? And what does that mean?”

She set her book aside, studying him closely. “Apparently, Laura spent half the night dealing with a very paranoid Garth. She mentioned something about you and a second turkey?”

Roberto’s jaw clenched slightly, though he tried to keep his tone light. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about. We prepped the second turkey, that’s all.”

Jazlyn narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms. “Where exactly did you get that second turkey, Roberto? Laura said Garth’s convinced you did something shady. And honestly, I’m starting to wonder too.”

Roberto rolled his eyes, forcing a casual shrug. “I told you—I pulled some strings. I knew Garth wanted his own turkey to fry, so I found a way to make that happen.”

She shook her head, a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “That’s not enough of an answer. You know marriage is built on trust, Roberto. If there’s something going on, you need to be honest with me.”

“Trust,” he repeated, his voice quiet but pointed. He looked away, his face hardening. “Yeah, Jazlyn. Marriage is built on trust.”

Jazlyn’s expression shifted, caught off guard by the tension in his words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Roberto didn’t answer, staring at the TV as if he hadn’t heard her. Jazlyn watched him, her concern growing with each second of silence. “Where did that second turkey come from?”

When he didn’t reply, she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Roberto, did you really take that turkey from Monty Sparks’s farm?”

He shook his head, refusing to look at her. “I’m done with this conversation,” he muttered, standing up and making his way toward the bedroom. Jazlyn watched him disappear down the hall, a chill settling over her as she wondered just how far he’d gone to “save” Thanksgiving.

Over at Garth and Laura’s house, the sound of knocking at the door drew Laura away from the kitchen. She opened it to find Damarae on the doorstep, his hands shoved into his pockets and a weary expression on his face.

“Damarae?” Laura asked, concern softening her gaze. “What’s wrong?”

He shifted awkwardly, glancing down. “I… needed to talk to you about Brandon.”

Garth appeared behind her, his brow furrowing at the sight of their guest. “Come on in, son,” he said, stepping aside to let him through.

As they sat down in the living room, Damarae took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he had to say. “Last night, things got out of hand between Brandon and me. He thought… well, he thought I’d been seeing Adalynn behind his back.”

Garth let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Guess it got heated?”

Damarae nodded. “Yeah, I… I punched him.”

Laura’s mouth dropped open, and she pressed a hand to her chest, clearly shocked. “Oh, my. Damarae, that’s… I mean, I know Brandon can be hardheaded, but…”

Garth sighed, leaning back. “Honestly, it sounds like he had it coming. From what we heard, he’s been acting a little… off.”

Damarae nodded, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I just wanted to let you know… I’m not coming over for Thanksgiving. I don’t want to cause any more tension, and… well, I can’t speak for her, but I doubt Adalynn will come either.”

Laura reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Come on, sit down. Let’s talk this through. I know Brandon was acting strange, but I think he’s dealing with a lot more than we realize.”

She offered him a sympathetic smile, and he nodded, sitting back down as he prepared to explain the chain of events that had led to his rift with Brandon.

Brandon’s drive home was silent, his mind racing with thoughts of everything that had happened. He found himself glancing at each familiar landmark with a hollow sense of regret. As he neared Damarae’s house, his gaze drifted to the curb, where Adalynn’s car was still parked out front. The sight made his stomach twist, and he shook his head, bitterly muttering to himself as he continued driving.

When he finally arrived home, he entered the quiet house, setting his bag down before making his way to the kitchen. He prepared a simple dinner, his hands working on autopilot as his mind drifted to the happier moments he’d shared with Damarae and Adalynn. As he ate, he glanced down at his phone, his thumb hovering over his photos. With a sigh, he opened his gallery, scrolling through pictures of the three of them together—smiling, laughing, and carefree. Each image felt like a bittersweet reminder of the friendships he’d fractured with his own jealousy.

A knot tightened in his chest, and he felt a pang of guilt so sharp it nearly took his breath away. Setting his fork down, he closed his eyes, the memory of the hurt on both their faces flashing through his mind. He pulled out his phone, hesitating for a moment before typing two simple messages: one to Damarae, and one to Adalynn.

Brandon: I’m sorry.

The messages sent, and he set his phone aside, feeling the weight of his words settle over him as he headed to bed, hoping sleep would ease the tension in his chest.

Back at Jazlyn and Roberto’s house, Jazlyn climbed into bed, her mind restless. She glanced over at Roberto, who lay facing the wall, his breathing slow but clearly awake. She watched him for a moment, feeling a pang of unease that she couldn’t shake. If Roberto had really taken Monty’s pet turkey, what did that say about him? And what did it mean for them?

Reaching for her phone, she pulled up Laura’s contact and quickly typed a message.

Jazlyn: I think Roberto might have actually done it.

Setting the phone on her nightstand, she sighed, pulling the blankets around her as she tried to ignore the worry gnawing at her. She turned off her lamp, lying in the darkness beside Roberto, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

As the night wore on, Damarae finally left Garth and Laura’s house, pausing on the doorstep to bid them goodnight. Garth placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks for stopping by, son,” he said quietly. “We’ll get this all sorted out.”

Damarae offered a small nod, his voice weary. “Thanks. Goodnight.”

He headed to his car, his footsteps heavy as he climbed in and started the engine. As he drove off, Laura turned to Garth, her face set in determination.

“Well,” she said, crossing her arms, “it sounds like we have a lot of fixing to do before Thanksgiving.”

Garth nodded, his brow furrowing as he gazed out into the night. “Yeah, and I just hope it’s not too late to put it all back together.”