by Scott, J. S.
“Mason,” he answered. “My older, workaholic, anal brother who I’m pretty sure hasn’t gotten laid in at least a decade because he doesn’t want to take the time out of the office. Jett is the youngest, he’s engaged now, and I have two sisters who are married and living in our hometown of Rocky Springs, Colorado.”
I flopped his veggie-filled omelet onto a plate, and added some potatoes I’d fried up for Carter, and then dropped a sweet roll onto a smaller plate. I set it in front of him as I said, “Do you see your sisters much?”
“Not often enough,” he replied. “But they’re coming for Jett’s engagement party. It’s been a while. I want to see my niece and nephew. Harper has two kids.”
He dug into his food as I made my own omelet. I skipped the potatoes and the sweet roll, and joined him once my food was done.
“This is fantastic, Brynn. I don’t think any woman has ever cooked for me.”
I found that kind of sad, but I understood what he was saying: no female had ever seen him as anything except a guy who could take them to expensive restaurants. Honestly, because I was a supermodel who was supposed to live a glamorous life, no man had ever seen me as a normal female, either.
“I was happy to do it, and I’m not really into fancy places. I’m a foodie, but I’m more about the food than the ambiance. Some of the best places I’ve tried in Seattle are little hole-in-the-wall places that just make some incredible food.”
He looked horrified. “Cheap restaurants?”
I nodded. “You should try them. And don’t even try to tell me you’re a food snob when you eat Dick’s burgers, and cream cheese hot dogs.”
He grinned as he placed his fork on his empty plate. “I did tell you that you could pick the restaurants.”
“I’ll be a pretty cheap date, Mr. Lawson,” I joked.
He looked at me, his eyes glued to my face as he said huskily, “I don’t give a damn where we go. All I care about is that you are my date.”
I kept eating, my heart light. There wasn’t much I could say to a sweet comment like that.
Brynn
The next few weeks were the happiest days I’d had in my entire life.
I spent the weekends doing things with Carter, and we spent the evenings discovering new places together.
We did the Space Needle, even though we’d both done it before.
We’d gone to art exhibitions, which were plentiful in Seattle.
Carter had taken me to explore the San Juan Islands, where we’d caught a whale-watching tour to watch the majestic Orca whales.
Since he’d offered, I definitely picked the restaurants for several days just to show him that expensive didn’t necessarily mean good when it came to food.
Once I’d run out of favorite places, he took me to some of his. I had to admit, he had good taste. The pricey places were good, and we’d decided that we could live with doing a little of both, expensive and cheap, as long as the cuisine was flavorful.
We’d started working out together in his gym, or we’d go back to the park and take a run together.
Every single day, I discovered something new to like about Carter. His humor could definitely be dry and sarcastic, but so was mine, so he made me laugh.
I was getting way too used to being with a man who actually wanted to know me, and who seemed to care about whether or not I was happy. And I was way too accustomed to seeing his gorgeous face every day.
It was scary.
And it was addictive.
Maybe I should be running in the other direction because I craved him now, but I refused to let something special slip away just because of my fear.
Not once had Carter given me any reason to not trust him.
So I wasn’t going to make him pay for my past.
He hadn’t really touched me except to hold my hand, or slip an arm around my waist, and it was pure torture not to get him naked. But we’d enjoyed being together so much that I was willing to suffer if it meant we’d keep seeing each other.
But God, I really wanted to explore a more intimate relationship so badly that I could barely stand it.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked from across the table of a new Italian restaurant we’d decided to try.
“You,” I murmured as I looked at the menu.
One thing I’d learned with Carter was that I could be completely honest and he never judged me.
“I hope you’re picturing the two of us together naked,” he teased.
Oh yeah, he never let up on the sexy comments. He just hadn’t taken action on them.
“Actually, I was,” I said in my best fuck-me voice. “I hope it was good for you, because it definitely was for me.”
Everything was growing more intense between us, even our conversation. I think it was difficult because we’d fought the temptation for far too long.
“It would be more than good, Brynn,” he answered in a hoarse voice.
I looked up at him. “I know.”
My body literally trembled as our eyes met, and the force of our attraction hit me straight between my thighs. I was wet, and I was hungry. I could easily skip the food and go straight for Carter.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when the waiter interrupted our lustful cocoon to take our orders.
When our server had finally gone, Carter said, “I think I’m fucking losing it. I think I could have cleared the table and had sex with you right on this pretty white tablecloth.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, my mind imagining what he’d just said.
I wanted to be naked and at Carter’s mercy on the tablecloth, but… “I could do without everybody watching, but the rest certainly sounds enticing.”
“You’re right,” he grunted. “I don’t want any man to see you but me. Scratch that.”
I heard my phone start to ring in my purse, and I turned to snatch it from my bag that was hanging from the chair.
“Hi, Mom,” I said a little breathlessly. I’d seen who it was on the caller ID. “I’m out right now. Can I call you back from home?”
Carter had let his flight staff know that I’d be flying to see her next week or the week after, but I hadn’t told her yet. I’d been preoccupied and gone so much that we hadn’t had a long conversation during the last few weeks.
“I have to tell you something, Brynn. Maybe I should have said something a long time ago. But I need to tell you now.”
I was instantly alert because of her tone. My mother rarely sounded so nervous. “What’s wrong? Is the cancer back?”
“No,” she denied instantly. “It’s not that. Nothing like that. Brynn, I finally did an interview about what happened. I knew you wouldn’t agree, and I certainly wouldn’t want to out you. But it’s something I needed to do for closure.”
“With who?” I said, feeling my stomach drop.
“Marissa Waters,” she answered, her voice contrite.
“Oh, God.” My hands began to shake, and I suddenly felt like I was going to vomit. Marissa Waters was an iconic female journalist, probably the best known in the country. “Why, Mom. Why do you need to talk about it?”
I’d spent years trying to live in the moment, to not think about the past or worry about the future. But my parent had always wanted to talk about what happened.
I…didn’t.
“Because it’s time,” she said firmly. “It’s the past, Brynn. We can’t change it. I didn’t mention you by name, and nobody is going to know who you are.”
“I don’t care about that,” I argued. I wasn’t that damn superficial. I was more concerned about the damage it could do to her emotionally. “I just really don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I think you hurt more than I do, baby girl,” she answered. “I’m sorry if this upsets you, but the interview is playing tonight at nine. I wanted you to know bef
ore it aired.”
“I don’t want to see it,” I said, alarmed.
Truth was, of course I was going to see it because she was my mother.
“You don’t have to,” she agreed. “I just didn’t want you to see it without knowing. This is about me, Brynn, not you. I want to move on. I want to have something more with Mick in the future. And that means leaving the past in the past.”
“I don’t understand,” I told her, my voice sounding whiney, even to my own ears. And I hated it.
“I’m sorry. Call me when you can,” she requested. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I said automatically, but my emotions were raw.
I pushed the button to disconnect the call and dropped the phone on the table.
“Brynn, what the hell is wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Carter asked in a demanding voice.
“I’m fine,” I denied.
Maybe I hadn’t seen a ghost yet, but I was going to hear about one very shortly.
I glanced at my watch. It was an early dinner, so I’d be able to catch the interview when I got home.
“You aren’t fine,” he rasped as he grabbed my hand. “Your hands are cold, and you’re shaking. Was that your mother?”
I looked at him and nodded. What was he going to think if he knew the truth?
“Something bad is going to happen, Carter.”
“What?” he said in a powerful voice. “Tell me, Brynn. There’s nothing we can’t handle together.”
I shook my head. “Not here. Not now. We’ll talk when we get out of here.”
“Then we’re about to eat our fastest meal, because I don’t like the way you’re looking right now.”
I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the moment.
I was here with Carter.
The past was the past.
I gave him a small, sad smile. “I’ll live.”
“Damn right you will. I’ll make sure of it,” he replied in a graveled voice.
I got through the meal, but Carter and I talked very little.
My past was getting ready to bite me in the ass, but it was finally time to tell somebody other than Laura the truth.
I just hoped Carter could really handle anything I threw at him, because my secret was monumental, and I wasn’t sure I could deal with him walking away.
Brynn
“Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter,” Carter growled as we walked into my condo.
I tossed my purse on the table and sat down on the couch. Usually, Carter took the chair beside me, but he plopped down right next to me.
I felt like a dam had burst inside me, and everything I was feeling needed to pour out.
I’d held my secret for a very long time, but I couldn’t not share it with Carter anymore.
Things were way too intense, and too honest in our relationship.
I needed him right now. I needed to feel sane. I needed some kind of comfort, even though there really was none for what I was feeling.
“You don’t know the truth yet,” I said in a tremulous voice.
He turned to face me, his warm body so close that I just wanted to throw myself into his arms and let him tell me nothing mattered again.
But I couldn’t.
“Then just tell me, Brynn. For fuck’s sake, don’t you know me well enough by now to figure out that I’m not going anywhere? I’m not going to judge you. Jesus! I’ve done some pretty shitty things in my life. There isn’t much you can say that would be worse than what I’ve done.”
I took a deep breath before I explained, “It isn’t so much what I’ve done, but who I am.”
He leaned back on the sofa. “I’m waiting. And I’ll sit here all damn night until you explain what caused you to almost have a panic attack in the restaurant. And I know who you are. You’re the female who’s so damn beautiful, funny, and smart that you make me crazy.”
Thank God he was stubborn, because I probably needed that right now.
I just wish I knew how to actually make the words come out of my mouth.
“My birth name wasn’t Davis. I took my mother’s maiden name when she changed hers back when I was fourteen,” I explained in a whisper that was barely audible. “I was born Brynn Dixon. My father was Harvey Dixon.”
He grasped my hand. “I don’t understand. Who is Harvey Dixon?”
Obviously, the name didn’t ring a bell for him, and I was almost relieved. But then I remembered that I’d still have to explain. “He was the Cross Country Killer, one of the most prolific serial rapists and killers in US history,” I blurted out before I could change my mind.
He looked genuinely shocked.
I added, “I lived with a monster for fourteen years, and never knew. All I knew was that he was my dad. I loved him. He was a truck driver, and I couldn’t wait until he got home from his runs. He taught me how to hit a softball, ride a bike, and I thought he loved me, but I found everything I knew about the father I loved was all a lie when the police came to arrest him. He’d raped scores of women and dumped their bodies. Some of them were only a few years older than me at the time. Minors who had no choice but to sell their bodies to stay alive.”
I started to sob as the pain that was slicing through my heart became unbearable.
I’d been so confused.
So devastated.
And so damn lost.
And everything I’d felt at the age of fourteen came rushing back to me.
The only man I’d ever counted on as a child had been a completely different person from the father I knew.
Carter grabbed my upper arms and shook me gently. “Brynn, you’re not your father.”
“No, but I’m the daughter of a monster,” I choked out, and then threw myself into his arms because I couldn’t calm myself down.
They wrapped around me like steel, and I savored the feeling of being protected for once in my life.
“Shhh…Brynn. It really doesn’t matter, sweetheart. That’s his shame, not yours.”
“I was fourteen years old. I felt betrayed,” I told him on a strangled sob.
“Of course you did. Did your mom know? Did she have any hint of what was going on? If he killed that many women, it must have been happening for years.”
I shook my head. “No. Neither of us knew. He provided. He came home and did the normal things a father does when he wasn’t working. We went wherever I wanted to go. Until I became a teenager, he tucked me into bed at night with a story. When we first found out, I defended him because he was my father. I thought the police had to have the wrong man, right? But I was the one who was wrong, and when Mom and I saw the evidence, we knew the truth.”
“God, I’m so damn sorry, Brynn.” Carter tightened his arms around me.
I continued talking because I couldn’t stop. “People blamed me and Mom. They said we could have stopped him. That we should have noticed something. My friends weren’t allowed to talk to me anymore. We were isolated from our community, became the enemy even though Mom and I didn’t know and had nothing to do with it.”
“So that’s why she changed your name?” he asked, his voice angry.
“Changed our names and moved us across Michigan, and I started in a new school. It was a secret. I couldn’t tell anyone. Nobody knew that I was secretly wondering if I was like him.”
“Stop, Brynn,” he demanded. “You’re not guilty by association, and you were the victim, not the killer.”
“I feel guilty. I always have.”
“Christ! Nobody knows that feeling more than I do, but you know it’s not true.”
I pulled back slowly from him so I could look him in the eyes. All I saw was compassion and anger, and I knew he wasn’t pissed off at me. “I went to counseling for years. Rationally, I know that I wasn’t to blame, Carter. But I can�
�t shake the fact that my father was a serial murderer. And maybe we missed something. He was killing for well over a decade. And it still creeps me out that he used to hold me like a loving father holds their child.”
“Listen to me, sweetheart. This. Was. Not. Your. Fault.” His voice was graveled and agitated, but there was comfort there, too.
“I think I’ve spent my life running away because I was terrified that everybody would be different. That it would always be a lie. I didn’t ever want to trust anybody again, especially a male.”
“I can’t say that I blame you, but you have to stop running, and I plan on hiding those running shoes,” he grumbled.
“You really don’t see me as different?” I asked hesitantly. “You don’t wonder if some of the genes I share with him could be bad?”
“Hell, no,” he exploded. “Granted, I’d like to kill the bastard for the hell he put you through, and the innocent women who died, but you’re beautiful inside and out, Brynn. I assume he’s in prison?”
“He’s dead,” I said flatly. “Died in prison from cancer a few years ago.”
“You didn’t have any contact with him?”
“No. I couldn’t. He was my nightmare. I had no desire to even see him as related to me. He destroyed mine and my mother’s life. We were doing his life sentence with him because we had to deal with the guilt and shame that should have been his.” I was still trembling, but I was slowly regaining my sanity.
“What happened with your mother that upset you so much tonight?” he said in a calmer tone.
“She did an interview with Marissa Waters. It’s airing in a little under an hour. She said she needed to do it. She wants some kind of closure.”
He nodded. “Maybe she’s right. Maybe you need that, too. Not that I’m suggesting you do an interview. But it’s obviously still raw for you.”
“No way. I don’t really want to talk about it. I talked myself to death over my years of counseling. I want to live my life in the moment. I just don’t want to keep reliving the past.”
“Maybe you need to close that door before you can move forward,” he suggested huskily.
