Conflagration

by Tessa Teevan

  Turning to look at his parents, I can see that his mom’s beaming from ear to ear and his dad looks uncomfortable. Not that I blame him. After having just met his charming ex-daughter-in-law, I can imagine that he’s not used to seeing Branson performing any displays of affection in public. Although, if the way his other two sons and their significant others act is any indication, I’m not sure why his cheeks are pink from witnessing that kiss. Either way, it’s endearing, and I’m quickly beginning to fall for this family.

  “Okay, you two. You heard the doctor. As long as Ari’s okay with moving in, you can both go home,” Amelia gushes, clearly in love with the idea of Branson and me playing house. “We’re just going to head over to the house and get it ready. I’ll bring you a change of clothes, too, honey,” she tells Branson, who smiles in appreciation.

  His dad slips an arm around Amelia’s shoulders, and they leave us alone, the room descending into silence. When I look back at Branson, he’s watching me quizzically.

  “What?” I ask, not sure what he’s thinking. And hoping like hell he’s not regretting the situation I’ve put us in.

  “My family likes you,” he says, his expression turning thoughtful.

  “Well, I did just meet your ex. I think your family would like pretty much anyone after her,” I tease.

  He gives me a, “Touché,” and I grin at him.

  “For what it’s worth, I like them, too. They’re not what I expected at all. They feel like…well, family,” I admit, and I realize it’s true.

  This past week, I’ve missed Lyssa. But as for my parents? I haven’t really given them a single thought. I should feel guilty, but strangely, I don’t. Suddenly, I wonder how differently my life may have turned out if I’d grown up in a warm, loving household instead of a cold atmosphere that cared more about keeping up with the Joneses—or, in my family’s case, the Bridenbaughs—than actually raising your children.

  “What about you, Ariana? I know why you left Atlanta, but what about your family? Why hasn’t there been anyone here to visit you?” he asks as he takes my hand, his thumb running along the length of mine.

  I’ve managed to go the entire week dodging questions about my family, but it looks like my luck’s finally run out. “No one knows I’m here. Well, no one except for my sister, Alyssa, and I asked her not to say anything. I’m not close with my parents. If they knew I was here, they’d be trying to talk me into going back to Atlanta and marrying Benjamin as soon as possible.”

  He frowns and continues to run his thumb along mine. The move is oddly comforting, and the fact that he seems to care warms my heart. “They’d have to get through me first,” he growls.

  Shaking my head, I laugh. “I’m sure you could take them, babe. My parents are the complete opposites of yours, and I’ve spent my entire life trying to please them. I went to Auburn, as expected, just like my father. Majored in accounting, as requested, then went to work for my father as soon as I graduated. And then I accepted a blind date—and, later on, a proposal—from the man my father thought was best for me for my future. I’ve always done what was expected of me, up until the night of the accident—the night of my rehearsal dinner.”

  “For what it’s worth, I’m pretty damn glad you came to your senses,” he tells me as he gives me a little tap on the tip of my nose. “Even if I did end up in the hospital because of it.”

  “I’d say I’m sorry, but that’d be a lie. Well, I’m sorry you got hurt, of course,” I explain. “Just not sorry about the rest of it.”

  “I get it. And I’m not sorry either.”

  “This past week, I’ve had a lot of time to think. Looking back, I think the reason I always went along with what they wanted because all I wanted was their acceptance. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I have you to thank for my coming to my senses. Or at least for planting the seed in my mind. If I hadn’t met you that night last winter, things may have turned out so differently.”

  Branson rests his head back against the pillow and looks up at the ceiling, his eyes searching for something I don’t think he’s going to find. When he looks back at me, his gaze is questioning.

  “Are you ever going to fill in the blanks from that night?” He pauses then lets out a deep sigh. “When I woke up the next morning, I almost believed that I’d dreamt you up. I couldn’t picture your face or hear your voice. And then, when I rolled over onto the pillow you’d slept on, I smelled the distinct scent of coconut.”

  “My shampoo,” I whisper, and he nods.

  “That smell—that’s when I knew you were real,” he continues.

  Then his hand slips out of mine and he leans over to the side table to grab his wallet. I watch as he opens it and pulls out a small, folded piece of paper. My eyes widen when he hands it to me and I realize what it is.

  “Then I found this. I’ve kept it with me since that day, reading and rereading it over and over again whenever I felt like everything was closing in around me. This—you—is what’s kept me going.”

  Tears well in my eyes as I read my words, recalling how lost and vulnerable he seemed that night, even if he had started off acting like a drunken, angry ass.

  If you don’t want anyone else to give up on you, you can’t give up on yourself. Life’s messy, Branson. All the scotch in the world won’t change that. If you don’t like your life, change it. I’ll make you a deal. You take my advice, and I’ll think on yours. -A

  “I can’t believe you kept this,” I whisper.

  “And I can’t believe you’re here. You were cutting it close, baby,” he teases.

  “Well, according to your brother, you went on a bender just a few days later on Christmas, so I’m not the only one who dragged my feet,” I remind him, poking his shoulder.

  “Guilty. But that’s your fault,” he informs me, lightly poking me back.

  “Oh really? I know we skipped the whole dating stage, but really? Already blaming everything on me?” I ask mockingly.

  He reaches out and slides his hand into my hair, pulling me closer. “I thought I could drink the memory of you back into my brain. It sounds stupid, I know, but like I said, I couldn’t see you. I couldn’t hear you. And over time, I started to get little flashes of long, flowing hair that was black as midnight. Deep-brown eyes that looked at me with something other than pity or disappointment. Full, pink lips I craved to kiss. Bit by bit, you came back to me, but I had no way of finding you other than stalking all of Atlanta looking for the beautiful, mysterious A. So when I saw you in that car, even if I didn’t know who you were, something said to me it was my second chance, and I would have stopped at nothing to save you. The way you did me. The way you still are.” His expressive eyes are boring into mine, and then they soften when a tear spills onto my cheek.

  “Branson,” I murmur, “I… I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. Your being here is enough. And for what it’s worth, if your family can’t be here, I’m glad you have mine.”

  If only that were true. But for now, I’ll take what I can get. “I’m glad, too.”

  He strokes my cheek before leaning in and giving me a tantalizing kiss. When he pulls back, I see a mischievous grin crossing his lips and know the moment’s passed. It’s probably a good thing, because any more discussion like this and I’ll be asking to move in permanently.

  “What’s that grin for, Branson?”

  His grin only widens. “Oh, I was just thinking about how I can’t wait to get you home.”

  Butterflies fill my belly with the anticipation of being in his home and alone with him for the first time. My lips twitch, and my grin mirrors his own. Desire fills his eyes as he moves in for another kiss.

  “Oh, yeah. Definitely not frigid.”

  WHEN WE both finally get our walking papers, his parents are right there, offering us a ride to his place, which is probably best since he can’t drive with his injured leg and, well, my car’s a burnt-out hunk of junk right now.

 
He’s quiet during the car ride, and I feel a distance growing between us the farther we get from the hospital. His mom chatters along the way, informing us that she’s done all the laundry, and the refrigerator and pantry are stocked. And apparently, they only live a few blocks over from him, so if we need anything, all we have to do is call and she’ll be right over. I notice that Branson’s now leaning his head against the window and his are eyes closed, so I let him rest, making small talk with his mom, agreeing to nearly everything she says but barely registering any of it. I’m distracted by his silence and even more distracted as I replay our conversation from the hospital. It’s still amazing to me he kept that note all this time. That he’d spent any time at all thinking about me all these months.

  As I try to figure out what it could mean, we pull into a long driveway, and I nearly gasp when I see the size of his house. It rivals that of my parents, and I can’t imagine one person living here. It would have to get lonely with all that space and no one to share it with. And then I remember his ex. Perhaps he’s better off now than he was before.

  Gently, I shake him awake, and it takes him a moment to come to. “Hey. We’re home, apparently,” I say, and his dad’s eyebrows narrow. He must have overheard me. “Let’s get you inside and then you can rest, okay?” I continue, and he nods sleepily.

  When I get out of the car, his dad has the wheelchair ready.

  “I can use the crutches,” Branson insists gruffly, pushing the chair away.

  Bending down until I’m eye level with him, I give him a look. “Branson, your wrist is still tender and I don’t want to risk you falling and making your knee injury worse. The doctor said not to overdo it. We’ll work up to the crutches, but for now, just get in the chair so we can get inside, okay?” I pull the crutches off his lap and hand them to his mom, who holds them out of reach.

  “You’re bossy. You’re lucky you’re hot when you’re bossy,” he mumbles, and I almost do a double take, wanting to hear him say it again.

  “Yeah, and you’re stubborn. Ass in the chair.”

  He grumbles some more but scoots in, and I take the chair from his dad, following his mom as I wheel him inside.

  The inside of the house is as gorgeous as the outside with its immaculate decorating. I try not to gawk—since it’s my fiancé’s home, no less—but I can’t quite help it. I must be staring because Branson turns in the chair and scolds me.

  “Act like you’ve been here,” he hisses nearly under his breath, and I grimace, hoping his dad’s watchful eye didn’t catch me. His back is to me, and I think I’m safe as I follow him in silence until we reach a large living room.

  Amelia gestures towards a double recliner that’s in the middle of the room, already set up with blankets. Branson shakes off the help as he stumbles from his chair to the recliner, wincing as he accidently puts weight on his bad leg.

  I rush to his side and place myself under his shoulder so he can steady himself. “Branson, you have to keep weight off that leg or you run the risk of tweaking something.”

  “I’m fine,” he growls, but he accepts my help as we settle him into the recliner, where he can extend his leg out in front of him. He’s tall, so his legs are long and the injured one slightly dangles over the edge, but it looks stable enough. “I fractured my knee, Ariana, not my entire leg. As long as I don’t put too much weight down on it, I’m fine. The cast makes it look worse than it is.”

  “You’re a stubborn fool,” I mutter under my breath as I place a blanket over him. As I go to move away, his grabs my wrist, pulling me in close.

  “You’re bossy, and I’m stubborn,” he whispers, his lips grazing my ear. “This sure as hell is going to be interesting, isn’t it?”

  I turn to face him, my long hair shielding us from his parents. His eyes are dancing with amusement, and I just can’t help myself. This time, I’m the one to make the first move. Leaning in, I press my lips against his in a soft, languid, sensual kiss that has my insides churning, wishing I could deepen it but not wanting to do so with our present audience.

  When I pull back, he’s staring at my mouth. Then he brings a hand up to cup my jaw as his thumb rubs over my lower lip. “Oh yeah, very interesting. Although I’m not quite sure that was convincing enough.”

  With a wink, I bring my lips to his ear, nibbling slightly. “Don’t worry, handsome. All the convincing will happen without your parents watching.” I place one more quick kiss on his lips then stand up to look at his parents.

  They’re both smiling. Hell, Amelia’s practically radiating with joy. The look on her face tells me all I need to know about why Branson went along with this charade. That’s a smile any kid would crave from his mother no matter how old he is.

  “Thank you so much for bringing us home. We really appreciate it,” I tell them, and Amelia just waves me off.

  “We’ll let you two rest, but again, if you need anything, just give us a call. Day or night and we’ll be here in a jiffy. In the meantime, I hope you don’t mind, Ari, but since you and Charlie are the same size, we took the liberty to pick up some things for you. Clothes and the essentials since your suitcase didn’t survive the fire.”

  My heart warms, and I know I have to be careful because I could fall in love with this family so damn easily. Hell, if I’m honest with myself, I probably already am. “Oh, Amelia, you didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.” Tears well in my eyes, threatening to spill over if I don’t blink them away. I’ve only known this woman for a week, and she’s already been more motherly to me than Victoria has ever been. This is unconditional love, and it’s from a stranger.

  Okay, so maybe I can’t quite classify it as love, but it feels pretty damn close. I start to wonder if that’s why I was so easily ready to settle for Benjamin. Because the only example of love I’ve had is from my parents, which is, let’s be honest, not a great one. Wiping the tears away, I smile at her through watery eyes.

  “Sorry. I don’t mean to cry. It’s been an emotional week. Thank you so much. It’ll be nice not to have to make a shopping trip for a little bit so this guy and I can just hang out.”

  “Of course, dear. It was no trouble at all. When you’re up to it, we can go shopping together. After raising three boys, it’ll be nice to have a woman to shop with. Now, fortunately, as you know, the master bedroom is on the first floor, so Branson won’t have to worry about climbing any stairs. I emptied a drawer for you and placed your stuff in the master bath. Why don’t I show you where I put it all?”

  Warning bells go off in my bed as I register her words. Did she say the master bedroom? With Branson? When I look over at him, an amused grin is on his face, and he cocks an eyebrow up at me. It’s almost as if he’s daring me to challenge her. I swallow hard, and Amelia must see the look pass between us because she laughs and takes my arm.

  “Oh, honey, don’t worry about me. I’m not so old-fashioned that I don’t know you’ll share a room together. Now let’s go.”

  With one last look at Branson, I find that the panic I’m feeling is nowhere on his face. No, instead, he now looks intrigued, like he wants nothing more than me in his bed.

  And holy Christ on a cracker.

  I want that, too.

  I COULD practically kiss my mother right now. Sure, she’s presumptuous and, at times, pushy, but I’ve never been more okay with her meddling than I am right now. According to the look on Dad’s face, he knows exactly what I’m thinking. I’m not embarrassed that he’s caught me staring longingly after Ari. I’m a red-blooded male and she’s sexy as hell. She’s been in my space, on my mind, for a long damn time, and it’s been even longer since I’ve felt the touch of a woman. The thought of her in my bed? Oh yeah, it’s a damn good one.

  Dad takes a seat on the couch to my left, and I force myself to pay attention to him. He swallows hard and lets out a deep breath. His sudden change in demeanor catches me off guard. When he looks up at me, his eyes are watery and I’m even more taken a
back. In all my thirty-three years, I’ve never seen my father cry.

  “You know I’ve never been very good at this sort of thing. The man-to-man talks, the emotional stuff. Your mom always took care of that, but I think it’s time I step up. Son, I want you to know just how proud of you I am, and I’m sorry, so damn sorry, if I’ve never told you.” He pauses, and I have no idea where this is coming from.

  Scooting myself up in the chair so I’m sitting up straighter, I shake my head. “Dad—” I begin, but he holds a hand up.

  “No, let me finish or I’m afraid I’ll never say it. Knox told me about your discussion last year. About why you did what you did with Megan. About what you overheard that day in the office. Branson, if I had known you were out there, I never would’ve said those things. I would’ve explained the legacy to you.”

  A bitter laugh escapes me. “Yeah, but what good would that have done? It wouldn’t have changed anything. Hell, I don’t even know if it changes anything now.”

  He nods, a somber expression crossing his face. “I know. And when he told me, I should’ve come straight to you to discuss it, but you’d already shut down, son. The divorce was underway and you were throwing yourself into your work more than before, and I… I guess I became a coward. And then you slowly but surely started to pick yourself back up off the ground and I kept putting this conversation off until I was sure you were in the right frame of mind. It wasn’t until we got the call from the hospital that all my past mistakes started to come back to haunt me. Because, yeah, maybe you made a mistake with Megan, but I got the whole ball rolling, and I told myself I’d never forgive myself if I lost you without telling you how proud of you I am. That, names aside, there’s no one I’d rather pass the torch on to whenever I retire.”

  “I appreciate that, Dad. I do, but I have to ask… What if Knox suddenly decided to leave the Army? Right now, I’m your next best choice because I’m the only Wellington son left to pass it on to. But if Knox were available, would we even be having this conversation?”