by Julie Cannon
“You’ve changed, Brady,” Mrs. C said, scrutinizing her. Her husband echoed her observation.
“No, I haven’t.” Brady denied it, but she had. She felt different. She was no longer driven to succeed, to make money and acquire possessions so no one could ever call her poor white trash again. She had no interest in going out or accepting every call for extra work. She roamed around her apartment, went for walks, and thought about Nicole all the time.
She was at a crossroads. She’d envisioned her life very differently than what she saw in front of her now. She’d thought she knew what she wanted until she met and fell in love with Nicole. There, she’d said it. She was in love with Nicole, and it wasn’t as scary as she expected it to be. She couldn’t imagine her life being anything without Nicole in it.
Brady realized she’d been burning through her life until she met Nicole. Every day she was free and easy, no encumbrances, obligations, or commitments. That had been her life since she’d walked out of that broken-down trailer fifteen years ago. If she kept up this pace she’d be worth a million dollars by the time she was forty. But she’d have absolutely nothing if she didn’t have Nicole. What good was it if you were alone? If you didn’t have love in your life, someone to share it with?
Brady leapt from the chair, kissing them both on the cheek. “I’ve got to go. Thanks for the dinner.”
“Where are you going?” Mrs. C’s frail old-lady voice came from behind her.
“To the rest of my life,” Brady said, before flying out the door and digging her truck keys out of her pocket. She’d finally admitted to herself she loved Nicole, and she refused to let her get away.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Nicole rubbed her eyes. The numbers on the page had started to blur thirty minutes ago, but she kept at it. There was no point in going home when she had things to do here. All that waited for her was an empty fridge and deafening silence. Ann had left hours ago, and Nicole frowned when she heard an insistent knock on the outer doors of the office.
Careful not to be seen she cautiously crept down the hall. When she peered around the corner her stomach lurched. It was Brady. She stepped back before Brady saw her. Was something wrong? Gathering her composure, Nicole stepped toward the door.
“What are you doing here?” Nicole asked after unlocking and opening the door. Brady stepped inside and she locked it behind her.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
Nicole stepped back and had a chance to get a good look at Brady. She was thinner and looked troubled. “Sit down.” Nicole indicated the chairs in the lobby. “What is it? Is it Flick, one of the crew?” She would be the first one notified if there had been an accident.
“No. I want to talk about you and me.”
Nicole straightened. “There is no you and me.”
Brady moved to the edge of her seat. “There was and I want there to be again.”
“What? No. There is no us and there won’t be. What happened was a bad idea, and it won’t happen again.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” Nicole repeated. She stood and started pacing back and forth in front of the reception desk. “Because I said so.” That was a stupid answer but the only one she could come up with right now. Brady’s words had caught her completely off guard.
“That’s not a reason.” Brady said calmly.
“I don’t care. It’s the one you’re getting.” Nicole was rattled. It was hard enough just to see Brady again, but this conversation was almost too much.
“You felt it too, Nicole. I know you did. We have something here and—”
“Don’t tell me what I was feeling, Brady. I know what I was feeling, but I can’t figure out what the fuck I was thinking.” The shock on Brady’s face almost broke her. She shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. “Just forget I said anything,”
“I don’t think so,” Brady said. “You opened that door.”
“And now I’ve turned around, backed out, and closed it.” She wished she’d never opened herself and let Brady in.
Brady shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. You can’t close a door already opened.”
“I have the key and I’m doing it anyway,” Nicole replied metaphorically. She wasn’t going to let Brady talk her into continuing their relationship.
“Coward.”
“What?” This time the spark in her was anger.
“You heard me,” Brady said quietly, her eyes never leaving hers.
“You think I’m a coward?”
“I could have used the word chicken, but it doesn’t have the same impact.”
“You think I’m a coward?” Nicole couldn’t help repeating the question. She’d stopped pacing and stood in front of Brady.
“Yes, I do.”
“I see,” she said, holding her rising anger in check. “And specifically in what way do you think I’m a coward?” Every time Nicole used the word her anger ticked up a notch.
“That’s not really what I meant,” Brady said, obviously growing uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.
“Then what did you mean?” Nicole asked, sitting down and crossing her arms across her chest defensively.
“Look, can we just go back about four minutes?”
“No. I want you to tell me why you think I’m a coward.”
“It was a poor choice of words.”
“A poor choice of words?” Nicole mimicked her. “So what word would you use? What does your thesaurus have that might better define it?” Nicole leaned forward, her arms on her thighs, and didn’t wait for Brady to answer. “Because let me tell you, Brady, I am not a coward. You have no idea what I’ve been through. I’ve faced everything head-on. I stepped into a man’s world when there was no woman in front of me. You have no idea the bullshit I had to put up with, the words and innuendos, the leers from men in this industry who thought just because I was a woman they could treat me like shit. Or their wives who thought I was the camp whore.
“I fought the biggest fires the world had ever seen. I walked right into prejudice, ridicule, and humiliation and walked out with my head held high. Everything that has stood in my way I have faced and conquered. I am not a coward.” She was surprised at her fury.
“Aren’t you, though?” Brady asked calmly. “Look at your life, Nicole. Other than your family, who’s in your life that matters? How long are you going to hide behind your scars before you let someone in?”
“You don’t have any fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Nicole said through clenched teeth, standing again and walking away.
“No, I don’t, because you won’t let me in. And that’s exactly what I’m talking about.” Brady’s voice was close behind her as she walked down the hall to her office.
“What about the people who care about you? Care about you the person, Nicole? What’s inside you, not the outside wrapper. They don’t care about your scars and what they look like. But they do care about how you’ve been hurt, what you have to deal with every day. They care about your joys. They care about your insecurities. They care about you. And they could care less about what you look like. And I’m one of those people, Nicole.”
Nicole tried to slam the door but Brady stopped it. “Get out.”
Brady didn’t move. “I don’t know how many of those people you have in your life. I don’t know how many of those people you let in, but I’m one of those people, and I’m standing right here on your doorstep, knocking on your door. It’s up to you whether you let me in. And if you’re as strong and as brave as you say you are,” Brady hesitated for a moment before continuing, “you’ll open it.”
“I said get out.” Nicole’s voice quivered and held less conviction than the first time she said it.
“You know what the difference is between you and me, Nicole?”
“Besides the fact that your body is perfect and mine is repulsive?” Nicole shouted.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Brady said, stepping fa
rther into her office. “All you see is that the possibility of being hurt again far exceeds any amount of joy and happiness you may find on the other side. Because the last time you opened the door Gina was on the other side, and not everyone is a Gina. I am not Gina, Nicole. You need to face the fact that I’m nothing like her. If you believe I’m worth the risk you’ll do it. But you won’t. That’s why I think you’re a coward.”
Brady was within arm’s length. “It’s up to you, Nicole. I won’t like it if you don’t let me in. I won’t like it at all. But I will accept it and eventually come to terms that I wasn’t worth it and move on.”
Brady started to turn to leave but stepped even closer.
“Do you think you’re the only person who has something on the line here? My entire life I’ve clawed and scratched and dug myself out of being thought of as trailer trash. My parents didn’t give a shit about me. I had no friends. I was the subject of finger-pointing and ridicule growing up. I was teased every single day I went to school because I was on welfare and the only clothes I had to wear came out of the church rummage box that my classmates donated. And don’t you think they didn’t have a field day with that? The girls looked down their noses at me. The boys thought just because I lived in a trailer, I’d spread my legs for them. And the more I ignored them the more they pushed. Well, let me tell you something, Nicole. When you defended yourself,” Brady pointed her finger at Nicole, “you were a grown woman. I had to defend myself when I was twelve and thirteen and fourteen years old from boys and men who thought because of where I lived they could have me.”
“So you know what, Nicole? We both have scars that have deeply affected us. But it’s what we do about those scars that make us who we are today. So yeah, I’ve got something at risk here too. Ever since I can remember I had a plan to get out, and nothing or no one was going to get in my way. And nothing has.” Brady stepped away and it was her turn to pace.
“I have never compromised my principles or my goals to get where I want to be. Nothing was worth risking that. Nothing,” Brady said, “until I sat in your goddamn conference room with your clean coffeepot and your plush carpet and you walked through the door.” She pointed down the hall, where the conference room was. “That’s when my plan started to fracture. That’s when my scars started to heal,” Brady said definitively.
“The difference between you and me, Nicole is that my door is wide open and you are the only person I’ll let in. Because you are worth it. That’s why I think you’re a coward.”
*
Nicole dropped into her chair. What the fuck had just happened? She felt like she’d been in the middle of a hurricane. Her hands were shaking, her heart racing, and she was having trouble breathing. She hadn’t lost her temper like that in years, and never as bad as this.
When Brady called her a coward, something inside her snapped. Six years of pain, suffering, frustration, and being alone had pushed its way through the scars and to the surface. Six years of covering her insecurities behind a mask of competence and indifference had worn thin. All Brady had to do was utter one word and it had ripped open.
She stood, her eyes darting around the room as if she could still see Brady in her office. “How dare you, Brady!” she shouted to the empty room. “How dare you come into my perfectly built life with your sexy smile, your pretty words, and your psychobabble. What the fuck do you know? You don’t know anything about me.” Nicole’s voice rose as she continued.
“How dare you make me hope for something? Make me want something I can’t have. Open scars that no one can see. How dare you make me fall in love with you?” Nicole’s voice broke as tears slid down her cheeks.
Chapter Twenty-eight
“Bond,” Flick shouted.
Brady looked up from the water nozzle she was manning to see Flick motioning her over. She hadn’t noticed Dig standing beside her to take over. Brady followed Flick into the crew quarters.
“Everything all right, Bond?” Flick asked as soon as they were seated in the two matching recliners.
“Yeah, sure, Flick.” Liar.
“Bullshit. You’re distracted, preoccupied, and not eating, and that’s not good.”
Okay, not so good of a liar.
Flick was far too observant for Brady to deal with right now. Since leaving Nicole’s office two weeks ago she’d jumped at the slightest sound outside her apartment, hoping it was Nicole. Her heart leaped every time her phone rang. But it was never Nicole. Nicole. Even the thought of her name sent bolts of lightning heat through her. But in the last few days when she finally admitted Nicole wasn’t going to come to her, the bolts had shifted to jagged shards of pain.
“Really, Flick. I’m fine.” Or I may be in about ten years.
“I’m not going to pry into your life off the job, but something’s going on and I’m sending you home.”
“What?” Brady exclaimed, surprised at Flick’s words. And the thought of going home to what, an empty house with nothing to do? Nothing but memories of Nicole to occupy the long nights?
“Flick, I’m fine,” Brady repeated.
Flick studied her, and the longer he looked, the more Brady started to squirm. Where had her ability to separate herself from her emotions flown to? She had mastered the ability to have everyone see exactly what she wanted them to see, yet Flick could see right through her.
“Then in two weeks when I see you again, you can show me, because right now you’re a danger to yourself and this crew. I don’t like doing this, Bond, but the safety of this crew comes first, no exception. And right now that means you go home.”
“But Flick,” Brady sat forward in her chair, “I can’t go home. Let me stay. I’ll do paperwork, make the supply runs. Hell, I’ll even clean the chow hall.” To her own ears she sounded as desperate as she felt.
“No. I’ll have Mast drive you to the airport.”
Brady sat in stunned silence as Flick walked across the room, his heavy boots pounding on the floor echoing the pounding of her heart.
*
“Nicole? Nicole?”
Nicole looked up and Ann was standing in her doorway. “I’m sorry, must have been daydreaming.” The expression on Ann’s face told her that was the wrong thing to say. She was never anything but one-hundred-percent work. She never even got a personal phone call. But that was before Brady threw down her gauntlet at her feet.
It was still there. Nicole hadn’t stepped over it, nor had she picked it up. What she had done was ignore it. No, that wasn’t true. She’d tried to ignore it. And that wasn’t working. If she were able to be busy enough to keep her mind off Brady, she was reasonably okay. However, most of the time she felt in a fog, like she was a half second behind the rest of the world.
“Yes, Ann, what is it?” The woman walked forward and handed Nicole a stack of papers.
“The status reports from the crew chiefs.” Ann looked at her as if she were afraid Nicole would bite her head off. No wonder there. That was exactly what she’d done several times this week.
“Thanks,” Nicole said, and set the papers on the side of her desk.” She glanced at the clock on her desk. It was barely after two. Another very long day.
Nicole leaned back in her chair and stared at the reports Ann had given her. There was information about Brady in that pile. Well, maybe not her specifically, but a report from Flick. After she met Brady, Nicole would read every word on every page, not wanting to miss any reference to her. Occasionally Brady’s name did show up on an overtime report or some other noteworthy event. She’d barely been able to read them these last two weeks, afraid Brady’s name would be mentioned somewhere.
Reluctantly she picked up the pile and started to read. One down, twelve to go. Two down, eleven to go. One by one she read each report, making a note here or there until she had two left in her hands. Flick’s report was next.
Brady’s name leapt off the page like it had springs. Nicole read the words surrounding it again. Then she read them again and then a t
hird time. She reached for the phone.
“Eugene? It’s Nicole McMillan. Yes, how are you? Wonderful. Eugene, can you do me a favor? I need an address.”
*
“Seven eight two five, seven eight two nine,” Nicole read out loud as she craned her head to see the numbers on the houses. “There! Finally seven eight three seven.” She pulled next to the curb and turned off her truck. She’d made the three-hour drive in two and a half. The sun was low in the late afternoon sky.
The big diesel engine clicked and clacked a few times as the engine cooled off. If only she could do the same. Her hands were sweaty and her stomach threatened to revolt. She opened the door, climbed out, and walked across the wide street before she could change her mind.
She remembered Brady saying she lived above the garage and that her landlords were an older couple she looked out for. That must be her landlady, Nicole thought, seeing the woman sitting on the ground pulling weeds from a colorful flowerbed.
Nicole approached the woman and called out, “Hello.”
The woman looked up, her face partially shadowed by her wide-brimmed hat. “Hello.”
“Does Brady Stewart live here?”
The woman frowned. “Who wants to know?”
“I’m Nicole McMillan. Brady and I—”
“You’re her boss,” the woman said quickly.
Nicole was surprised but took a few tentative steps forward. “Yes, I am. Is she home?” Nicole looked toward the garage for any sign that Brady was here.
It took several efforts before the woman was able to get to her feet. She walked toward Nicole. “Is she in trouble? ’Cuz if she is, I’m not letting you on my property.”
Nicole grinned. This woman was spunky. And she obviously cared for Brady to protect her like this. “No, ma’am, she’s not in any trouble. I just want to talk to her.”
