by PJ Sharon
Justin shook his head. “No way, Bro.” He wasn’t about to let Cody behind the wheel half lit. Recalling Brinn's earlier comment about the smell of smoke in the room and her apparent aversion to it, Justin looked down at the tipsy girl at his side. Whatever had her so frightened and despondent, he didn't want any more upsets with her tonight.
"I have a better idea. Why don't you take the room, I'll take Brinn home to my place for tonight, and we'll come back first thing tomorrow to get Abby and Phillip back to the bar to pick up their vehicle. I'll take you home then."
Cody scratched his head and yawned. "Whatever you say, Man. As long as you’re payin’. I just want to get some shut-eye.” He gestured with his thumb toward the occupied room and smirked. “Don’t worry; I’ll keep an ear open for trouble.”
Chapter 15
Headaches and Healing Hearts
Justin finally had Brinn belted into the front seat and was cruising down Route 75 toward his condo in Centennial Park. His attention was drawn to the girl who was lolling her head and talking gibberish by this time. She really could not handle her liquor. He made a mental note to remind her of this incident should she ever want another drink. He might also consider having a little chat with Phillip when the idiot was sober in the morning.
He turned the radio down to hear the incoherent babbling, listening for clues as to why Brinn would come down from her mountain and risk the discovery she so desperately feared. She’d found her way to the Black Horse Tavern, a pub he’d mentioned to her while at the cabin. His heart jumped at the idea that she was there looking for him, but he dismissed it immediately. Partly because he didn’t want to assume that their time together had affected her so profoundly, and partly because he didn’t want to admit the muddle of feelings he had for her. Whatever her reasons, Justin now had two goals: to keep her safe, and to reunite her with her family. He would focus on that for now. It would be a shock for all of them, but he was certain it was the right thing to do.
He turned off the exit heading onto Peachtree when his phone rang. Justin connected the call. “Hello?”
“Hi, Son.”
Justin tightened his grip on the steering wheel. The last person he wanted to talk to was his father. It had been a couple of months since his last call and still Justin had little to say. “What’s up?” He asked coolly.
“I read about your adventure and I was calling to make sure you were all right. You should have called.”
“I’m fine, Dad.” He let the silence grow, assessing his father’s sincerity. The man was impossible to read. Cal Spencer was good at covering up the truth. After his mom caught his dad in yet another affair, his parents had finally divorced. Justin was just nineteen and his brother Steve a year younger. Steve was old enough to join the Marines—a ticket out of one hell and into another—but Justin was left behind to pick up the pieces. He wasn’t sure which one of them had gotten the short end of that stick.
The divorce was ugly. The constant fights, the threats of violence, and him always in the middle trying to keep the peace and often paying the price in bruises. How many black eyes and busted lips had his father inflicted while in a rage? And how many times had he endured drunken tirades of “You’ll never amount to anything,” and words like “useless” or “failure” every time he tried to protect his mother from the brunt of the violence? His father rarely remembered those times, but Justin would never forget. It was a lot to forgive. It had been a relief when his parents divorced and Cal moved north to Virginia. It wasn’t until then that Justin finally felt he could leave his mom and go off to college. Going out west for school hadn’t been far enough to erase the burden of guilt and anger he carried.
His father fumbled for words in the silence. “Well, I just wanted to hear it for myself, I guess. I was worried about you.”
Justin eyed Brinn, now passed out completely in the front seat, her hair cascading across her face. He reached over and brushed the fine dark strands out of her eyes. Fighting the urge to stroke her cheek, he wrapped his fingers tighter around the steering wheel. He didn’t want to wake or startle her. Instead he let out a slow breath. There was no need to tell his father about the girl who was rapidly taking over his every thought.
“Really, Dad, I’m okay. I have to go. I’ll call you soon when I can talk longer. I’m driving right now,” he said, knowing his father wouldn’t want him endangering himself. The man seemed hell-bent on making things up to him, but the damage was done and any amount of repair was still etched with cracks.
“All right, then, Son; I’ll let you go. Call me sometime when you can talk. I’d like to hear about what happened up on that mountain. I guess I’ll just have to read about it in that little magazine you’re working for.”
Justin said good-bye and hung up, wishing his father would leave him alone. No matter how hard the man tried, every word that came out of his mouth held an insult. Justin shook off Cal’s derogatory reference to his job at the “little magazine.” He had finally reached a point where doing the right thing was more important than gaining his father’s approval. When faced with helping Brinn or furthering his career, the choice was an easy one.
After everything he’d been through with his family, he was determined to give Brinn the happy ending she deserved. Her trust in him fueled more than a desire to do what was right; he felt an overwhelming responsibility to protect her. She was probably here, risking everything, because of him.
He glanced down at Brinn, amazed at how much strength it must have taken for her to come out of hiding after all these years. His heart wrenched at the prospect of the dangers she now faced. How long would it take for her to build a new life for herself?
Although recovery was no picnic, there was a sense of peace to be found if you worked at it. Three years in Al-Anon had taught him that. He wanted more than anything for Brinn to find that peace. Forgiveness, he’d discovered, was another matter. Maybe he and Brinn could work on it together. A smile lifted one corner of his lips. The thought brought a glimmer of hope rising from a dark corner of his heart—a dark corner he suspected they shared, at least on some level.
He looked over at the sleeping face of innocence beside him. Her unexpected beauty captivated him. Where was the wild young woman he’d met just a few weeks before? “It’s going to be all right, Brinn. I’m going to take care of you. I’ll keep you safe tonight and when you wake up tomorrow, we’ll call your mom and dad.”
Happy for the upcoming reunion but sad for all the years the Hathaways had lost, he knew it wouldn’t be an easy time for any of them. Parent-child relationships were complicated under the best of circumstances. As if on cue, his cell phone rang again, this time to the tune of Fϋr Elise.
“Hi, Mom,” he droned, the Bluetooth connected once again. His mother always seemed to know the exact moment he was thinking of her.
“Hey, Sweetheart. How’s everything?”
“It’s all good, Mom. But right now isn’t the best time.”
“What’s going on? I can hear in your voice that something’s wrong.”
Her sixth sense was a scary freak of nature. “Nothing’s wrong. How’s Adam?” Adam was a good guy, but most importantly, he made his mother happy and treated her right. It was good to know she had someone taking care of her—someone who could protect her. He pushed the persistent self-recrimination aside.
“Oh, he’s great. He has to do some traveling soon, though. I thought maybe you and I could get together for supper. How’s next weekend look for you?”
He’d have to explain about Brinn some time if he intended to keep her in his life. He glanced across the seat again. A flood of warmth made him realize that keeping her in his life was exactly his intention. The implications of that realization sent a wave of mixed feelings to his gut. Next weekend would be as good a time as any to make introductions—though he found himself wanting to put off the inevitable as long as possible. He certainly couldn’t explain it on the phone and Brinn wasn’t exactly what his mot
her would approve of as a “nice girl from a good home.”
And who knew where Brinn would be in a week. Her homecoming would be an event bound to stir up a hornet’s nest of consequences. “Mom, can I call you back on that? I have some things to take care of before I can commit.”
“All right, Sweetie.” She paused before adding, “Father’s Day is coming up. Don’t forget to call Dad.” Remnants of her June Cleaver alter ego lurked below the surface. As if she cared whether his father might feel slighted if he wasn’t remembered on Father’s Day. He knew she pushed the relationship for Justin’s sake, not for the cheating bastard who had beaten her up and broken her nose. Justin would never forget that night. He couldn’t forgive his father any more than he could forgive himself for not being strong enough to protect her. If she wanted to pretend, he wouldn’t argue. He had enough of his own issues to deal with.
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll send him a card or something.” Brinn let out a loud groan and rolled over to huddle against the door.
“What was that?”
“I’ve gotta go, Mom. Love you. Bye.” He disconnected the call, dodging the million questions he was certain would follow his explanation of his new friend.
He shook his head, looking at Brinn, who lay curled in a tight ball on the front seat as he pulled into the parking garage at his condo. She was one hell of a story. Charlene would go nuts for the exclusive and would likely pitch a fit that Justin hadn’t taken advantage of the opportunity. But one look at Brinn tonight in that bar and he knew his ambition had to come second to what was best for her. There were more important things in life than getting the story. Gramps would have agreed. A sad smile curved Justin’s lips.
Tomorrow, he would call her parents and arrange for the reunion. His heart swelled. It gave him a sense of satisfaction to be a part of such a miracle. In the little time he'd known her, he couldn't deny the easy bond they'd made and the warmth in his heart he felt toward her. She needed someone she could trust and depend on. He would do his best not to disappoint her.
Justin pulled into his usual spot and turned off the car. He studied her placid features, illuminated by the bright lights of the parking garage. Her transformation was remarkable, her beauty undeniable. The silken black hair, the way the soft material of her dress clung to her delicate curves and the fairy-like innocence of her face stirred a primitive need in him. At that moment, he was certain that he would do almost anything for the slumbering wood sprite at his side. He patted her shoulder gently, attempting to rouse her from sleep without startling her.
Brinn groaned, lifted her head, and stuttered, "I don't feel so good...." Then she proceeded to vomit all over herself and the pristine cream carpet of his BMW325Ci convertible.
Chapter 16
Waking to the World
Brinn groaned and tried to open her eyes. Her skull throbbed in revolt. She clutched her head in her hands and then wondered if her eyes had been glued shut along with her mouth. Panicked, she forced herself upright—and then wished she hadn’t. The room spun as her eyes began to focus. Her stomach churned and her mouth tasted like the bitter algae that grew at the bottom of a stagnant pond. She swallowed and grimaced. Her sluggish mind snapped to attention—she had no idea where she was or how she'd gotten there.
She sat frozen in the big bed and took in her surroundings. She waited for the nausea to pass. Light streamed in between drawn blinds and cast golden stripes across a plush white carpet, forcing her to squint and blink to clear her vision. Everything looked so clean and tidy, the walls painted a light gray. The color reminded her of the morning mist that rose in clouds around her in the mountains. There was an overstuffed blue armchair with a small table next to the window, and a wall-length cabinet housing a television set with rows of books on either side. She noted the titles were all about photography.
A connection clicked. This must be Justin's home. He had rescued her last night from those awful men. The memory came back in a flood, but she could touch only bits and pieces of the night before. The effort brought another wave of crushing pain to her head. She rubbed her temples.
She couldn’t remember coming here. She looked down at the light blue checked comforter and lifted the layers of blankets. Her dress had been removed and she was wearing a man's button-down shirt and her underwear. Realization dawned and a funny sensation crept through her. Justin had undressed her.
She suddenly felt vulnerable and bare. Anything could have happened last night and she wouldn’t have been able to protect herself. A shudder passed through her, acid creeping up in her throat. She pulled the soft blanket tight to her chest. She would never let this happen again. A small sense of relief washed over her when she noticed her knife, sheathed and resting at the ready on the table next to the bed.
"Hi, there." Justin pushed the door open slowly and entered with a steaming cup of aromatic coffee, which immediately made Brinn feel a bit better. He tentatively sat on the edge of the bed and handed her the hot mug. Gingerly sipping the golden sweet liquid, Brinn closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Coffee was a rare treat and he’d prepared it exactly how she liked it.
"I thought a cup of coffee might be a good start. Is it all right?" he asked softly.
“It’s perfect,” she smiled ruefully, "But can you take my head into the next room and empty it of all the rocks? Maybe then my stomach will stop trying to climb out of my body."
Justin chuckled, conscientiously trying not to be too loud. "How much do you remember about last night?"
Brinn sipped her coffee and contemplated the answer that drifted like fog in her mind. "I remember having dinner with Abby and Phillip. Then Phillip took us to the horse place where there were lots of people and loud music. I remember those men trying to take me, and then...I remember you..." She gazed into his sympathetic brown eyes, pictures becoming clearer. Her face flushed with heat. “You took my clothes off.”
“You were sick so I had to wash your clothes.” He smiled teasingly. “Besides, I owed you for stealing mine.”
She wanted to smile but a sick feeling sank into her stomach. “You didn’t... I didn’t...did you...?”
“Nothing happened, Brinn. You were sick and I took care of you. That’s all. I slept on the couch.” His reassuring smile sent her fear back to its dark corner. Relieved, she gave him a look of gratitude. Another memory came to mind.
"I remember flying to heaven and finding my parents, but that can't be right."
"You’re kind of right. I told you last night that your parents are alive. I spoke to your mother a few days ago. I told her I was a reporter following up on missing children. She said that they’ve never stopped looking for you. I didn't tell her you were alive, but I know they would want to know about you. I just thought you’d like to be the one to tell them."
Her hands shook. Coffee spilled onto the blankets. Justin took the cup and set it on the nightstand and slid closer. Tears silently rolled down her cheeks as her gaze fell to her hands. "What will I say to them? I can't tell them what happened. They will never understand. I don't understand. I don't remember...I don't know..." Tears splashed onto the comforter and Justin reached out to take both of her trembling hands in his.
"Tell them the truth, Brinn. You miss them and you want to come home."
She felt sick and hollow, confusion exacerbating the pounding in her head. At the same time, her heart swelled with hope at the thought that she had family out there somewhere close—people who wanted her, who would protect her. People she could call her own. Then a solid knot formed in her gut. "If I go home, he will find me."
"Who will find you? Who is it that you are so afraid of, Brinn?"
"He promised he would always find me. ‘A promise is a promise,’ he said." She stared past Justin, her eyes unfocused. A crushing sensation filled her chest and bile rose in her throat. Justin helped her to the bathroom just before she heaved into the toilet. He knelt on the floor beside her, holding her hair away from her face and whispering soft ass
urances as her body repelled every thought and memory of the man who had taken her from her parents so long ago.
∞∞∞
Justin had washed and dried Brinn's clothes from the night before. After showing her how the shower worked, he left her alone to clean up and pull herself together. He fixed some toast with cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg and made her drink a small glass of tomato juice with Tabasco sauce, a balm for her queasy head and stomach—the hangover cure of choice for his father, if he remembered correctly. She adamantly refused the aspirin he offered, so he didn’t press the issue.
A call to Cody assured him that Abby and Phillip were in decent shape and felt terrible about the events of the night before, in more ways than one. They were taking a cab back to the bar to retrieve Phillip's truck and had offered Cody a ride to his parents’ house just outside the city. Cody put Abby on the phone.
The girl had been in a panic when she woke to find Brinn missing, but Cody had successfully convinced her that she was safe with Justin. She was reluctant to leave Brinn behind with a stranger, but Brinn reassured her that she would be fine. She relayed the news about her parents and the two girls rambled excitedly, Brinn yelling into the phone as if Abby were a long way off.
She probably had never talked on a cell phone before, Justin thought. He smiled as her voice lowered to a normal tone as she continued the conversation, until she sounded like any other young woman, naturally gabbing on the phone to a friend as if she'd done it every day of her life. He only hoped that she could fit into other parts of society so easily.
