Brayden (Wild Men Book 6)

by Melissa Belle

  Brayden’s eyes are apologetic as he turns to me. “He won’t let up until we do it.” He holds out his hand. “Just one song?”

  I inhale and take his hand. Luke’s words are haunting me, and I feel like I’m in a twilight zone as I follow Brayden onto the floor.

  As we start to dance, I’m so focused on not messing up the steps that I don’t pick my head up once. I’ve got my eyes set squarely on my feet, and it’s working out all right. Brayden and I haven’t run into each other yet.

  “Eye contact is the key, dear,” Edna says to me. “The connection between partners is what makes a great dance.”

  I bring my gaze up reluctantly to meet Brayden’s.

  “Excellent!” Brayden’s dad says when the song mercifully ends.

  He sounds like a dance instructor. I thank him and step back awkwardly.

  And then we say our goodbyes.

  Brayden’s mother insists on giving me a bag of chocolate chip cookies to take home with me.

  “But you should keep them,” I protest.

  “You appreciate them so much,” she says. “It’s like you’ve never had a homemade chocolate chip cookie before! It thrills me to give them to you.”

  I take them from her and impulsively hug her goodbye. Brayden follows me out the door and down the path to his truck.

  I comment on the beautiful garden as we pass it.

  “Now that my dad’s retired, they have more time to do things like grow a garden.” He chuckles. “They used to say all they had time to do before was grow kids and a family.”

  I get into the truck and bite my lip. My parents’ yard is filled with weeds like nobody’s ever walked in it. Mom and Dad travel too much to spend any time taking care of the land. And my parents’ house felt nothing like Brayden’s. It was always freezing because Dad believed that spending money on heat was a waste of finances. He said we were a tough bunch, and if he could live on a beach in a tent with no running water for three weeks, then he could surely live in an insulated home without jacking up the heat just to feed the gas company.

  I wait until we’re out of sight of the house before I speak.

  “Did you tip off the authorities about Noah?”

  Brayden’s hands tighten on the wheel, and he pulls off to the side of the ranch road.

  He puts the truck in park and turns to face me.

  “Yes,” he says simply.

  I stare at him, torn between wanting to kiss him and question him.

  “Why?” I ask him. “I was a stranger to you, and it was a risk to alert the authorities. What if he found out you’d done that and tried to get revenge somehow?”

  “I made sure my tip couldn’t be traced,” he says. “And you were never a stranger to me, Leleila. You always felt familiar. I would never have betrayed your trust by telling your story, but I wanted that jerk to be punished for what he did. More than that, though, I wanted you safe.”

  “So you found a way to get him kicked out of my school and out of town.”

  Brayden’s jaw ticks. “I didn’t know your name or where you lived. I couldn’t be sure if you went to school in Mountainview. But because of football, I knew who he was. And so I figured if he left the area, he’d leave you alone.”

  We sit in silence for a moment until Brayden says, “Well, I’d better get you back.”

  “Brayden.” Emotion clogs my throat as I reach out and grab his arm. He turns back, and without thinking about it, I pull him toward me and kiss him quickly on the cheek. I can feel him trembling underneath me, and I rein my lips back from going to his mouth and touching every part of him I can reach.

  Instead, I put my arms around him and rest my chin on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around my back and holds me close.

  When I walk in the door, Phillip is at the microscope.

  “I just walked in,” he says to me, taking his attention off the lens to greet me. “How was the tasting? I’m so sorry I missed it.”

  I want to snap at him for skipping out on me again, but I take one look at his bloodshot eyes and keep my frustration to myself.

  “It was delicious,” I say as I sit next to him. “I was sad you weren’t there.”

  “Me too.” He puts one eye up to the lens. “How’s dance class going with Brayden? Is it working out okay?”

  I stare at his bent head. “Yeah. It’s going well.”

  “Great.”

  “Phillip…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Phillip, I really need to talk to you.” I wring my hands next to him. “Please give me just one of your eyes while you look into that scope.”

  He shifts so his left eye is focused on me. “That better?”

  “Perfect. Phillip, I met Brayden twelve years ago. Before you and I started dating.”

  Two eyes are on me now.

  “How? Where?” His voice is breathy and tense.

  “I was at a party after a football game.”

  “You don’t go to parties.”

  “I know. But I did—this one time. And I was attacked.”

  Phillip’s head is now fully upright as his attention fixes on me in a way I can’t remember him doing in years.

  “Tell me everything.”

  So I do. I tell him about Noah, and how he dragged me into the bedroom, and how Brayden was standing outside it when I escaped.

  “He made sure I was all right, and he wanted to kill Noah, but I didn’t let him.” My voice breaks, and Phillip pulls me into a hug.

  “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Lei.”

  I raise my head to meet his gaze. “Brayden was my first real kiss.”

  Phillip’s arms go rigid around me. “He was?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you didn’t…have sex with him?” Phillip’s voice is calm.

  Eerily calm.

  “No. You know you were my first.”

  Phillip’s still quiet.

  “I would have told you earlier, but I didn’t know how to without also telling you about the attack. And I was so ashamed of that. I just wanted to bury it away and never think of it again. Almost like I could pretend it never happened.”

  “I understand.”

  “I hadn’t seen Brayden since that night. I didn’t even know his name before.”

  Phillip’s arms relax. “Lei.” He puts his hand on my knee. “I’m not threatened. We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

  No, I guess we don’t. But right now, I’m not sure what kind of relationship we do have.

  He kisses my forehead. “I saw your painting.” He gestures to the easel in the corner of the room.

  I back off his lap and return to the couch. “What’d you think?”

  “It’s a good little hobby, Lei. But you’re a scientist, not an artist.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Phillip chuckles. “Well, you’re the daughter of two scientists. These paintings are for you, not the public, right? I mean, what you’ve painted isn’t exactly meant to impress, is it?”

  I stand up. “That’s mean, Phillip.”

  He keeps chuckling but less loudly now. Less confidently. His gaze meets mine, and it’s like he finally sees what I was so certain he’d see weeks ago—something’s changed. Everything’s changed, really, but I can’t expect him to know all of that yet. I’m not sure I even understand what’s happening.

  That’s when it hits me. I got so used to living in Phillip’s shadow I grew to believe I couldn’t live without him. I lived without him the first sixteen years of my life, but the next ten are filled with memories of Phillip Rowe and all his accomplishments. He’s been by my side my entire adult life.

  As he finally stops smirking, I realize how devastating it can feel to have somebody you’ve counted on—somebody you’ve trusted—crush your dreams and not let you shine. Even though it’s unconscious and he means well, Phillip never wanted me to shine.

  I turn my back on Phillip and carefully go put my paints away in a trunk. Mom gave me this tr
unk when Grandma died; she said she used to keep her microscope in there so her mother wouldn’t think she was “too much of a nerd.” I guess this trunk is meant to keep secrets—and important dreams—safe.

  “Lei.” Phillip comes over to me as I squat silently in front of the trunk I just closed. “Hey.”

  “Hi, Phillip.” I don’t look up at him, though, and he doesn’t seem to know what else to say.

  “We’re going to be okay, Leleila. I’ll be away tomorrow night, but in less than two weeks, you and I are going to get married, and everything will settle down.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The next morning, Phillip has some work to do at the university before he leaves for the conference. Gerry calls and asks if I can meet him for breakfast instead of lunch. That’s when Phillip says he’ll drive me, and then we can leave together so he can come home and pack.

  When we arrive at campus, I wave goodbye to Phillip and walk into Huckman Hall, remembering all the meals I ate here—sometimes with Phillip but often with other psychology students as we hurriedly ate with our textbooks and laptops laid out around us so we wouldn’t miss an hour of studying. I don’t miss it as much as I thought I would, and my stomach turns into knots of anxiety just going through the cafeteria line with my tray of eggs and toast.

  As soon as Gerry and I take our seats at the corner table and he swallows his first bite of omelet, he says to me, “I asked to meet with you because I just found out some news. News that may upset you. But I believe you have a right to know the truth.”

  Dread shoots through my gut. “What kind of news? Is it about my defense date?”

  “Not exactly.” He takes a breath and looks me dead in the eyes. “I was talking to a member of the panel—I won’t say who because, honestly, it really doesn’t matter as they were all involved.”

  “Involved in what?”

  “Leleila, Phillip went to the panel ahead of time and assured them that if they agreed to pass you, he would make sure you fixed your data before sending out your paper for publication. He may have even intimated that you were on board with this idea.”

  My head starts spinning. “He what? I don’t understand.”

  “Let me back up.” Gerry’s face contorts with guilt. “I went to Phillip first.”

  “You. Spoke to my fiancé about my research.”

  He holds up his hands. “I had good intentions, Leleila. You were so worried about getting your PhD before your wedding, and I thought you needed more time. I asked Phillip if he could talk to you because I was concerned you were pressing to get everything done due to Phillip’s timetable rather than your own. He assured me he’d make sure you put in the data you needed for the whole panel’s approval. He knew what was needed. But then you presented, and that data wasn’t there after all. I couldn’t understand what had happened. But now I know—Phillip thought he could persuade the panel to pass you based on his reputation, his merit.” He shakes his head. “I’m sure he meant well, but he let his arrogance get the best of him here. Because the panel half-heartedly agreed with his idea, and then they changed their minds once they heard you present. Panels are not known for their loyalty; you know that as well as I do.”

  My face goes hot. “Phillip was going to help me with my data. But then he said he didn’t have time because of his own work. I guess talking to the panel was his idea of a quick fix.”

  Gerry frowns. “He assured me that he’d take a look at your research. I told him if you stuck with your current data, the panel would most likely fail you. He’s experienced enough with a thesis panel to know exactly what I meant. I just never expected he’d go behind my back like that. I’m sorry, Leleila. I just thought you should know.”

  My heart feels like it’s been stomped on. I stand up, leaving my breakfast untouched. “I appreciate you coming to me,” I say. “Please excuse me. I have to go do something.”

  Phillip’s bent over a microscope in the ecology lab when I barge in without warning. He jerks his head up.

  “Leleila. You scared me. What are you doing here?”

  I take a seat next to him, ignoring the two other people looking at slides. They take one look at us and immediately get up and walk out, leaving us alone.

  “I just had an interesting conversation with Gerry,” I say. “He told me everything, Phillip. How you struck a deal with the panel? How could you do that?”

  Phillip turns red. “That’s true. But I don’t know what the big deal is. That committee should have passed you. You were ready. I saw to it myself. They broke our deal. That’s on them.”

  “That committee is what matters!” I say to him. “They didn’t think I was ready, and you pushed me. You said I would definitely pass. And you didn’t tell me to alter my dissertation, which you promised Gerry you would do.”

  “You would have passed no problem if the panel hadn’t been so idiotic,” he says angrily. “You’d have your PhD right now, and we’d both be professors in time for our wedding. We’d be packing our bags for Africa in a month. Hopefully, we’ll be able to anyway, but I didn’t know there would be another way at the time. So yes, I pushed you to present when you did. But it was all for us, Lei.”

  “See, that’s the thing,” I say. “It feels to me like you did it for you. You wanted that grant, and the only way for us to get it was if we both had our doctorates. I was happy to do something together, and of course, I wanted a job at the university. But I didn’t want to force the issue if the timing was off.”

  “No,” Phillip protests. “I truly thought you were ready, Lei. You had been preparing for years for your PhD. How was waiting six months going to help?”

  “You should have told me Gerry came to you,” I say. “I know I was being stubborn, but you should have told me what he said to you.”

  After our talk, which doesn’t really end with any resolution, Phillip heads to the airport alone, and I drive to Big Sky Grocer.

  I go straight to June’s office.

  “So ignoring the questionable lapse in ethics between Phillip and the panel, do you think Phillip should have told me what he did?”

  “Well, of course I do,” she says.

  “So why do you think he didn’t?” I say.

  She purses her lips.

  “Because he was trying to protect me?” I suggest. “Or maybe because he really believed in me that much? Or in my data?”

  “Is that what you really believe?” she asks me. “That his heart was in the right place?”

  I don’t answer her.

  “Because if you felt that way, I don’t know why you’d be locked in a room with your sister trying not to cry,” she says as she looks at my face.

  “I’m not crying,” I say. “I’m too numb to cry.”

  June reaches out and touches my arm. “I have some good news. People love your mural. I mean, they love it.”

  I wrinkle my nose, sure she’s messing with me.

  “I’m not joking!” she says. “I’ve gotten more compliments on that damn mural than on any products I’m carrying. I had somebody come inside this afternoon to ask about it, saying they saw it from outside. As soon as I told them the artist’s name, they asked if you had anything here for sale.”

  I laugh. “Seriously, that will be a while. I’ve just started up again.”

  Impulsively, I quickly text her the picture of the horseback riding painting that I showed Sophia. “Show them this if you’d like.”

  She looks at the text coming across her screen. “This is great, Lei. You’re sure I can show it around?”

  I nod. “I guess so.”

  “Cool.”

  June makes a circle in the air with her index finger. “Returning to the reason you came by—I love you, so I have to say this bluntly—don’t go through with the wedding if your heart’s not in it, Leleila.” Her words sound suspiciously like a warning. “Don’t end up like Mom and Dad, sleeping with a microscope between you. That life works for them because they share a passion for science. B
ut it will never work for you, and you know I’m right. When all you have left between you and Phillip is a microscope, your life’s going to feel awfully cold.”

  “I have to…take some time,” I say shakily. “I need to think.”

  “I know.” Her voice is unusually gentle. “But make sure you listen to your heart first and foremost. You know that, though.”

  “I’m trying.” I stand up slowly. “Thanks for the talk. I’ll see you later.”

  Before leaving the store, I stop into the bathroom.

  It’s while I’m washing my hands that I realize.

  My ring’s gone.

  I peer into the sink in a panic. I pull up the drain plug and look in. I return to the bathroom stall and look all over the tiled floor. I even look into the toilet.

  Nothing. No hint of red string anywhere. It’s like it vanished into thin air sometime after I said goodbye to Phillip.

  I curse myself for not noticing that the knot was loosening. I should have asked Phillip to retie it before he left for his trip. Or I could have put fabric glue on the worn section. But Phillip said it was a forever knot. He promised it was a forever knot, and I believed him. I believed him so much that I ignored the signs—the fraying of the string between my ring finger and pinkie, the way the knot looked different this week than it had during the past six months. It didn’t look like it was coming undone, exactly; it just looked…different.

  It’s not too late. I can go to the convenience store down the street and buy some red string and make a substitute ring. I leave the bathroom hurriedly, only to be waylaid by June asking me to hold the door open while a delivery is wheeled in.

  Fifteen minutes later, I finally reach the parking lot and start walking toward my car. Before I unlock my door, I spot a familiar-looking figure standing outside his truck. His head is hat-free, and his dirty blond hair blows lightly in the breeze. His worn jeans hug his ass snugly, and his muscles are lean and hard beneath his thin shirt.

  Everything is forgotten. Everything but him.

  Impulsively, I walk closer.