She took one of those deep inhales that steadied the nerves and owned the moment. “I hope that’s true. Being, um, friends.”
“We’re a fuckton more than just friends, Heather, but debating the finer points of wordsmanship is a stall, and we have other things, important things, to say.”
Her beating around the bush was amusing. And a good sign. Meant she wasn’t going to try to blow him off with some lame smoke and mirrors.
“What’s in the bag?”
Brody blinked. The bag. Oh, right. The bag. Quickly emptying the contents onto their table, he proudly showed off his stash of goodies.
“Okay, so … Irish scones. Homemade in the Southwest.” He snickered. Carmen was so cute. She’d packed the yummy treats in a small bakery box with her elegant handwriting on the lid. She’d written To Remind You of Home next to a doodled paw print.
Holding up a small canning jar with a kitschy looking homemade label, he broke into a food-induced face of ecstasy. “And cactus jelly. Or marmalade. Or jam. Or preserves or whatever the fuck you call them … doesn’t matter ‘cause this shit is the bomb.”
Cracking open the jar, he lifted the lid and smelled. “Love this stuff. I’ll slather it on anything. These scones.” He nodded to the box. “An apple. It’s all good.”
“Anything?” she asked with a snort of humor.
So she wanted to play with fire? Okay. Fine by him. Looking directly at her tits so there was no misreading his words, he licked his lips then met her gaze.
“Yep. Spread a little of the sticky sweetness on anything, and I’ll gladly lick it off. Think of it like Viagra jam.” That got a laugh.
Plucking a big scone from the box, he tore off the top and started piling it with jelly. Dropping it on her plate, he set about loading up his half.
“Now, the first bite is the best. You have to savor the tart-sweet spread and the soft, chewy scone all together.” On an afterthought, he added, “Wait, wait, wait,” as she picked up the dripping scone. Grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair, he fished in the pockets until he located his phone and got ready to snap a picture.
“Gotta catch your reaction. Virgin territory and all.”
Her look of wry amusement was perfect. “What is it with you and the picture taking? This is the second time you’ve pulled this selfie nonsense.”
“It’s not a selfie if I’m not in it! Now, stop yammering and take a bite.”
With a smug half-smirk, she said, “Hmph. Like I said, bossy.” And then she took a bite. Her unschooled reaction was worth the price of admission. “Oh my god,” she murmured with a full mouth. “What is this? Tell me again.”
He clicked off a couple of snapshots and grinned like a fucking idiot at her reaction. She was too genuine to fake her delight.
“Cactus jelly. Straight from the Justice kitchen. And Irish scones. An odd combination, I know. But that’s sort of the Justice story in a mouthful.” He chuckled at his own observation. It was true. The only thing missing was some Marquez wine or a bunch of Ria’s hand-rolled taquitos. A bit of Ireland, a bit of Spain, and a bit of the Southwest.
“You care a lot about these people.”
Fuck, yeah. “They’ve become like family.”
Heather nodded and kept inhaling the scone between sips of the sweetened chocolate drink.
“Things are changing for you, aren’t they?” Stated bluntly and not as a question.
“For you too,” he reminded her. “Bob told me you’re in private therapy. Has something to do with what’s going on with you, doesn’t it?”
And there it was. They’d finally circled around to what led them to this important conversation. Her soft sigh hung in the air. Heather wasn’t much of a talker when it came to personal stuff, and she was adept at using counselor talk to lead a conversation away from her. This was it. She needed to find enough trust inside her where he was concerned to move forward. He held his breath.
He let her find her way and sat there quietly watching. Assessing. He could wait out a meditating monk without blinking an eye.
She took her time. After a few nibbles of scone, and more sips of the cocoa, she wiped her mouth on a napkin and sat back. When she crossed her legs and smoothed the sweater material along her thighs, he noted a slight tremor in her hands. The practically unseen show of nervousness meant she was going to be authentic with him. It was all he could do to remain seated when what he really wanted to do was jump up and break into a Rob Thomas song that he listened to all the time that made him think of Heather. And dammit if the lyrics didn’t include something about a sweater!
“HEATHER, TRUST YOUR instincts.”
“But that’s the problem, Doctor. How do I feel safe trusting instincts that were so wrong before?”
“You’ve said it yourself, my dear. It wasn’t you. None of what happened was. Jason’s issues sucked all the oxygen out of … well, out of everything. You’re a counselor, so you know what I mean. Common sense. Self-preservation. Instinct. All muddied by someone else’s psychosis. You hold yourself to a standard no one could possibly meet. Not with the circumstances you dealt with.”
The conversation with the new therapist played out in her mind. Heather thought about the point she was making quite a lot. Realizing she actually couldn’t control everything that happened to her by cutting off not just the human race but the needs and desires that were part of being alive represented a major breakthrough for Heather. A breakthrough that led her to this moment.
And what were her instincts telling her to do? That was easy. Trust. Have courage. Give this man a chance. But to do that, she would have to be honest with him. Once and for all. And that meant telling him everything—including her deepest, darkest, most secret fears.
“I’m not defending my actions. Not at all because there’s no excuse for what I did. But I think it’s more than relevant to admit that New Year’s Eve is just always going to suck. It can’t not, you know?”
She went to Brody’s eyes for reassurance. Nobody could be as still as he could, and sometimes, the unsettling trait made her jumpy, but his expression was where she found a glimpse into his inner thoughts.
“Understood,” he murmured gently. Rubbing the side of his head with two fingers where she knew the jagged ridge of a nasty scar hid in his hair, he made powerful reference to the fact she was no different from him. Or anyone else who lived through a catastrophic event.
“While you’ve been gone, lots of things happened, and I’m not just referring to leaving the group.”
“If it helps any, this is my swan song with Bob too. Just tidying up some loose ends.”
“You make it sound like you’re planning to leave more than just a PTSD group.”
There was that stillness again. She’d hit a nerve. Shit. Nothing like having one of your fears rise up and smack you in the chest.
“One thing at a time, okay? This is your scene, m’lady.”
She fiddled with the hem of her dress. “Anyway, though it scares the bejeebers out of me ‘cause you know how very much I love change,” she snorted, “I started feeling like my life was one big boring Groundhog Day. Same shit. Different day. Over and over.”
His nod assured her he knew exactly what she meant.
“Nothing ever changed. I kept my family at a distance. Lived like coloring between the lines was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.” She shrugged. “It was safer that way.”
Brody bit into another scone and downed some more chocolate. “Is that why we never hung out? That was all you, by the way.”
Who was he kidding? “Uhh … I don’t think so. You were just as closed off when we met, and until recently, you weren’t complaining.”
“I’m going to let you have that one. But all last year, I pushed, and you know it. By the time I left in the spring, I think it was pretty clear I wanted more.”
“I think that’s when the light started to shine into my darkness. When you left, I got worried. Scared.”
&
nbsp; Nerves made her bite her lip. She pushed the hair off a shoulder and shifted awkwardly. She was admitting stuff that made her uncomfortable.
Her admission must have stunned because he sat forward and reached for her hand. Squeezing her fingers, he waited till she looked at him. “I wish you’d told me that then, but I’m glad you’re telling me now. Heather, honey. My leaving wasn’t about you. Matter of fact, it was harder this last time to walk away from you than ever before.”
Trust your instincts.
Adding her other hand, she stroked the top of his knuckles and offered a shaky smile. “When I got your Christmas card, the long months of confusion and doubt made so much sense. I …” She stumbled over her words. “I missed you too and couldn’t admit it.”
“God. We are a mess together, aren’t we?”
She heard the humor in his voice and wanted to kiss him. But there was still more to say. “That’s when this, um …” She grimaced as the right word eluded her. “Gosh, I don’t know what to call it, but this feeling of a falling away happened.”
“What do you mean?”
Tightening the grip on his hand as an anchor, she dove headfirst and hoped the words made sense.
“After my, uh … yeah. After everything that happened,” she felt a reassuring squeeze, “it seemed like an outer shell grew around me. A barrier that I imagined would protect me. When that shell started to break away, I was forced to face a bunch of stuff I’d been avoiding.” Pfft. “Those defenses weren’t about staying safe. They were about running and denial.”
“I’ve been there too. It can get scary.”
Of course, he had. His quiet admission was a safe harbor for her emotions.
“It’s all an act. Everything. All of it.” She hurried the words and sucked in air at the same time. “I’m not together at all. No part of what I show the world is true. Brody,” she whimpered, “I’m afraid of everything.”
“Hey,” he murmured with a tug on her hands. “It’s okay. I’m right here. If you fall … I’m gonna catch you.”
Leaning in, she hovered over their joined hands. “Being alone masked a fear of being alone. Shutting down all feeling covered up that I was a walking, talking trauma victim with more open festering emotional wounds than I could count.”
His hands felt warm and reassuring. “You did okay.”
“But that’s no way to live. My mom …” She couldn’t continue. Thinking about the anguish she still heard in her parents’ voice put a big lump of strangled emotion in her throat.
“I didn’t look Pops in the eye for months after I got out. He was the only one who knew what I did, but my head was so fucked, I imagined condemnation when there wasn’t any.”
“Exactly. I think I put all my fears on her. Imagined every conversation was my subconscious talking back. So I cut her off too. Months went by, then years, and now, everything seems to have come to a head. All that time in group taught me that when the moment comes, when the truth crashes into denial, there’s no escaping. Not if you want to be whole.”
“And you’re ready to be whole?”
She really wished he didn’t sound so hopeful. There was still something she hadn’t acknowledged; something big. The elephant that was always in her room.
“I’m ready to be honest.”
“Still here.”
She took a wobbly breath. “When everything you have gets taken away … and I’m not talking about losing a pregnancy … when your confidence is gone, your entire sense of self shattered … it’s hard to see where a relationship fits into things. All relationships. Family included. There’s a good reason why I freaked out New Year’s morning. You, changed things, but not everything is neatly solved. There’s another reason why I can’t have a normal healthy relationship. With a man. Any man.”
He scowled. “Don’t talk in present tense when I still don’t know what you’re hiding. And do not refer to me as any man. I am the man, and you fucking know it.”
She was starting to recognize the demanding tone. When did the conservative, clean-cut teacher become a gritty bad boy with a dominant streak half a mile wide? How the hell had she missed that? Was she in a goddamn coma?
She acknowledged his comment with a tiny nod. Touché. Time to go for broke. “Brody, I like you too much to pretend that being with me is a good idea. For you.”
“For fuck’s sake, woman. I’m not a patient you have to speak softly to. Just say it. Stop with this meandering verbal bullshit. Why the fuck is it bad for me to want to be with you?”
Oh. She didn’t expect him to jump in and be so direct. And did he just say he wanted to be with her? Heather’s eyebrows bumped together. What?
“Heather, I swear to god,” he growled so just she could hear. “Either you spell out for me right now why we can’t be together or I’m hauling you and those sexy boots over my knee for a serious spanking.”
“Okay,” she muttered. “Here it is. Hashtag, no filter.” Clearing her throat felt a bit too much like acting, so she took a gulp of air and went for it. “I’m damaged. Big time. Despite being in your bed for the last few years, you terrify me. Why? Because you do. I let what we were doing go on because I was afraid of losing you. Then I was afraid that once you knew how damaged I was, I’d lose you anyway. You see,” she stammered. “I can’t have kids, so a family is off the table and I couldn’t do that to you.”
He looked at her as if she’d grown another head and grunted. “Are you serious?”
“Well, yeah,” she snapped. “You think I’d be this whacked out over something insignificant? Brody. I just told you my most secret anguish. I can’t have kids. Doesn’t that more or less change everything?”
“Is this what you’ve been hiding? What you’re so afraid of? That because you can’t be converted to a baby factory you have no worth in the universe? Seriously, Heather?”
Why the hell did he sound so put out? She nodded and gently pulled her hands from his warm grasp. The last thing she expected was for him to laugh. Sitting back, he let loose with a loud bark and shook his head at her. “Well, news flash. You’ll never have a career as a clairvoyant.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve always known, honey.”
“But how? I never say it out loud. Not to anyone.”
“It’s not what you share. It’s what you don’t say.”
“Oh.”
“You know what,” he drawled as he sat forward and pulled out his wallet. Dropping more than enough plus a serious tip for the waitress, he rose and held out his hand for her to take. “Let’s take this someplace private.”
She couldn’t agree more, so she put her hand in his, grabbed her coat, and stood next to him as he gathered up their stuff. Snatching the leather jacket she found incredibly appealing, he headed for the door with her in tow. She found it kind of hilarious to be skipping along behind him as he stomped along in those shit-kicking boots. Made her feel all female and flustered at the same time.
Outside in the frigid air, he helped her into her coat, making sure it was buttoned up tight before sliding his leather on. She didn’t care how damn cold it was. If she could stand here and quietly salivate at how hot he looked, that’d be just fine and dandy.
“Your car or mine?”
“Oh, uh … I guess yours is bigger.”
He took her hand and chuckled. “Well, it is now. You were right about changes coming. Got a new ride and no smartass comments about overcompensating when you see it.”
Overcompensating? Oh, lord. Didn’t that usually mean a penis truck? One of those big things with humongous tires? Hardly necessary. The man’s compensation was more than adequate. Way more, in fact.
Pulling her along, she was grateful for his hand when they went sliding along a strip of ice on the walkway. They stepped around a gaggle of kids just leaving the skate park and wove through the parking lot arriving beside one of those vehicles everyone joked was an FBI special.
A massive Chevy Suburban took up an
entire space; only this one was a subtle cream color instead of black. Color aside; it seemed like an odd choice for all of about ten seconds.
Oh, my god. Arizona claimed him. She just knew it. That explained the light color of the SUV. The constant sun would make black a shit-poor choice. And the other changes. The longer hair. His clothes. Her heart did more than sink. It bottomed out so fast she lost her balance.
He caught her when she fell. Just as he said he would.
As he lifted her into the passenger seat, she clutched his arms and wailed in a voice filled with misery, “You’re leaving. Aren’t you?”
And now, all her nightmares were exposed to the harsh light of reality.
WHEN HE SUGGESTED they take their conversation private, he didn’t envision having this discussion in his car. A rickety wood table between them was better than the huge armrest console he faced. Plus, the massive interior seemed to shrink her in size as she huddled against the passenger door and stared miserably at him.
“That’s what all this is about, isn’t it?”
She’d been straight with him. His turn to be straight with her. “Yes. When the semester ends and I go back to Arizona, it’ll be for good. I’ve accepted an offer to be a managing officer with the Justice Agency.”
“Oh.” Her voice sounded tiny and small. “Oh,” she said again after a tense minute of silence. Her agony wrapped around his heart when she whispered, “I’ll miss you.”
“This isn’t how I wanted to play this hand, Heather.”
“No, no. I understand.”
She understood nothing. “Honey, look at me.”
Her seductive bronze eyes rimmed with tears made him pause. She was way more invested than she knew. This was a lot for her to take on, and he was the only one who could look after her emotions.
“I wanted to sweep you off your feet, not turn up the heat and wait for the windshield to defrost. I envisioned margaritas and a roaring fire, not hot chocolate and a fake fireplace.”
“You what?”
“You heard me.” Unable to take being separated from her any longer, he leaned over the console and took her hand. “My whole plan once I got back was to wear you down, seduce you with my charms, and convince you to take a leap of faith.”
Sanctuary (Family Justice Book 3) Page 14
