“Oh my God!” Jessie yelled, exasperation resounding through the room.
Okay, so maybe he was trying to push her buttons.
They stared at one another for a long minute. Braydon had nothing else to say. He wasn’t sure there was any getting through to her, even if he was equipped with all the words to express just how much he loved her. She was trying to make excuses, and he didn’t know if it was because she was scared or just because. Hell, he didn’t think he had the mental capacity to figure it out, either.
Just when he thought he was going to have to give up, she spoke.
“Have you talked to Brendon?”
Braydon’s brows furrowed as he tried to figure out what freaking conversational highway she’d taken a sudden detour on.
“I’ve talked to him plenty,” he answered, hoping that would bring forth a little clarity.
“Have you talked to him about why he did what he did?” she asked, the glare she shot at him letting him know she didn’t appreciate his vague response.
Braydon knew she was referring to Brendon’s drinking and driving. “No, I haven’t,” he said with a sigh. “In fact, I haven’t talked to him at all. Not since I left for work this morning. And even then we didn’t really talk.”
Jessie’s body tensed slightly. Braydon was tempted to take a step closer, wanting to pull her into his arms and make all of this go away. He would be the first to say that the amount of emotional bullshit he’d been through over the last six months was more than he’d experienced in his entire life.
And he wasn’t a big fan, thank you very much.
“What’s gotten into him?” Jessie finally asked, looking up at him.
That was a question only Brendon could answer, but Braydon did his best to offer as much enlightenment as he could. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him this way, but I think it all started back when he met Cheyenne.”
It was a truth Jessie probably didn’t want to hear, but he put it out there anyway.
“When did he meet her?”
“Before you.”
“Oh.”
Yeah. Oh. Clearly that upset Jessie, but Braydon refused to sugarcoat it. There were so many things that the three of them should’ve talked about long before things got this out of hand, and this was only a small portion. It wasn’t quite the conversation he’d wanted to have tonight, but it was already out there, lingering in the air between them.
“Are you planning to talk to him?” she asked softly.
“About?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Braydon,” she said hysterically. “The alcohol. Drinking and driving. Us.”
“Is there an us, Jess?” he asked seriously, jumping right to the most critical subject at the moment. She was packing, which meant with her gone, there certainly wasn’t going to be an “us.”
After last night, he wanted to believe there was. But after her little stunt tonight, he wasn’t sure that he was going to like her answer. Last night, and that morning, had been the most incredible experience of his entire life, but that didn’t mean it was going to last. Part of him was surprised she hadn’t kicked him out of her bed at dawn.
“Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked,” she blurted as she tried to sidestep him on her way out of the room.
Braydon stepped in front of her and reached for her hands. He held them firmly but not roughly, not allowing her to pull away. He felt her eyes on him and he decided to go all out.
“Jess, I don’t know what this is between us. I know it’s more than just sex. At least for me. I want to be with you every waking moment. Hell, I want to spend every single night with you in my bed. I don’t know how to make any promises though. Not today, not tomorrow. And yes, I have talked to Brendon. Not much, but we did have a conversation. He knows how I feel about you. He’s always known. But I’m not sure what you want me to say to him. I don’t intend to hurt him.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” she interrupted.
“I know you wouldn’t. That’s not what I was saying.”
“What are you saying then?”
“Why do we always have to do this? It’s like we take two steps forward and one giant step back every time we see each other. It’s become a pattern, and heaven help me, Jessie, I don’t know what you want from me.”
Again Jessie tried to pull away from him, and this time Braydon let her go. She seemed a little surprised by that.
“I’m not gonna coddle you, Jess. I want you, there is no doubt about that.” He wanted to go so far as to tell her that he loved her, but for whatever reason, it didn’t seem like the right time. He didn’t want his next attempt to convince her to be during the heat of an argument. And he damn sure didn’t want her to think he just said the words so she wouldn’t run away. “But you can’t keep second-guessing everything. It won’t work if you do.”
The conversation died on that statement as Jessie stared back at him. He couldn’t help but wonder whether the two of them had sealed their fate long before they’d ever even given themselves a chance.
JESSIE WANTED TO curse a blue streak.
For a night that should’ve ended better than the day had been, she’d gone and started a fight with Braydon that was doomed from the start. She knew it even before she started talking, yet she did it anyway.
And now Braydon was pacing back and forth across her bedroom. He looked angry. No, maybe not angry. He looked upset.
Not that she could blame him. She had well and truly screwed up tonight. Because of all her stupid insecurities, she had gone and made a serious assumption that, yes, made her look like an ass.
The moment she’d seen Cheyenne, Brendon, and Braydon on that couch, she’d fought the urge to throw up. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t been able to see them completely; her mind had conjured up the image of what she’d anticipated all along. Even as she had walked back to her house, she had been fighting through the tears, trying to rationalize what she thought she saw.
And of course, Braydon’s response had made perfect sense. Only now she was worried about Brendon, but not for the reasons Braydon obviously thought. She didn’t care about him that way. And she sure didn’t give a damn if he hooked up with Cheyenne Montgomery. In fact, she hoped he did. Maybe that would change this path of destruction that he seemed to be on these days.
But, God, she felt as though she were on emotional overload.
She wasn’t equipped to deal with these types of emotions. It was the reason all her relationships failed in the past. Instead of taking things one day at a time, just the way Braydon had requested, she was the type of woman who wanted to dig into a man’s psyche and figure out what made him tick.
She knew Braydon well enough that she shouldn’t have needed to hear his explanation. She should’ve trusted him. He had never given her a reason not to. But from the moment he’d stepped through her door, she had riddled him with excuses, trying to push him away. Then, to top it all off, she had tried to get him to tell her that he loved her again. She needed to hear it, needed some sort of reassurance because nothing was working out the way she had hoped.
As Braydon continued to make a rut in her carpet, Jessie didn’t move. She wasn’t even sure what to do. Braydon didn’t seem to be paying her any attention, and she held her breath. This was the part that she always expected. The moment when he figured out that she was too high-maintenance in the emotional department. When he realized that her insecurities were such an overwhelming part of her that he decided he couldn’t deal with it. She knew what was coming. This was the part when he either let her down easy or called her a crazy bitch and went about his merry way.
“Jess?”
She was surprised by the sound of his voice, and her eyes tracked him as he made another pass across the room. Rather than respond, she just looked at him.
“I’m not like most guys you’ve dated.”
That statement had anger ripping through her insides.
Mostly because she knew he was right. He wasn’t like the guys she’d dated. He was different in so many ways, yet she was still insecure enough that she would do anything to screw it up.
“I’m not getting into this with you,” she snapped. Okay, even she knew she sounded irrational, but she didn’t want him to get all high and mighty and point out all her flaws. She was quite aware of them all, so any schooling was unnecessary. “Thanks but no thanks,” she said bitterly.
“Jess.” Braydon moved closer, his voice soft, almost reassuring. Jessie didn’t move. She couldn’t. “You’re gonna have to trust me if this is gonna work.”
Trust.
Right.
What the hell did she know about trust?
Instead of saying anything, Jessie turned and fled to her bedroom. She heard Braydon’s boots on the hardwood in the living room as she opened the front door. Her heart lurched when Braydon continued to move past her, not even attempting to try to talk to her anymore.
God, she was acting like such a fucking girl. A brat, to be exact. And now he was calling her bluff.
“Good night, Jess,” Braydon said softly as he stepped out onto the porch. When he turned to face her, Jessie noticed the sadness in his gaze. “If you ever decide you want to talk, give me a call. But until you actually trust me . . . until you can finally let me in . . . I mean really in, then I don’t see how this is gonna work.”
Neither of them knew how this could possibly work. If it could work. And it was clear that after a few days in one another’s company, Jessie had allowed herself to be overtaken by fear and insecurity.
Unless, of course, they were naked.
And Jessie knew that being naked wasn’t always an option.
No matter how much she wanted to pretend otherwise.
Without another word, Jessie nodded her head and then shut the front door as gently as she could manage. She stared at the wood for a long time, even after she heard the roar of Braydon’s engine as he left.
Her valiant attempt to remain strong, to pretend that her entire life hadn’t just crumbled at her feet thanks to her own stupid reaction, didn’t last long. Just like earlier, the tears began to fall. And instead of admonishing herself for being overly sensitive, she let them. She gave in to all the emotional turmoil as she broke down and cried. Cried for the loss of a man who she would love until the day that she died.
JESSIE HAD JUST changed into her pajamas when her cell phone rang. Her heart kicked into overdrive as she snatched it off the table, hope flaring in her chest.
But that hope died on impact when she realized it wasn’t Braydon.
It was her father.
Not that she didn’t want to talk to her dad; she did.
“Hey, Daddy,” she greeted him solemnly as she slid into the oversized chair in the living room.
“Baby girl,” he greeted her back. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she said, hoping it didn’t sound like the lie that it was.
“When did you start lying to your father?” he asked, a tiny bit of humor in his voice.
“I’m fine. Really. Just tired.”
“Do you always cry when you’re tired?” he asked.
“How do you know that I’ve been crying?”
“I didn’t know until you just confirmed it. What’s going on, baby girl?”
“Nothing, Dad. Nothing that you need to worry about. I’m just . . . emotional.”
Either her father was content with her answer or he really didn’t know how to respond to that. Whatever it was, he changed the subject. “How are things with you?”
“Good,” she said, thinking about work. “Kylie has taken on a huge new project here in town and she’s working through the logistics of getting it finished in the next few months. We’re gonna be busy.”
“That’s good to hear. Still liking your job?”
God, she didn’t know how to answer that. Just a short while ago she’d been packing her things, fully intending to leave town and never look back. Granted, there was one major flaw in her plan. Her car was DOA and she hadn’t heard from Kylie to find out whether Gage could actually fix it or not.
Instead of sharing all of that with her father, she said, “Of course. What’s not to like? I spend most of my day alone in an office with the only thing to keep me company being the sound of the phone every now and again. I’m catching up on some serious reading, that’s for sure.”
“Jess . . .”
“I’m kidding, Daddy. It’s good. I’m serious.”
“How’s Brendon?”
Oh, God. She did not want to answer that question. Her father believed that she was dating Brendon Walker. It didn’t have anything to do with Jessie telling him as much, either. It was an assumption so many people had made over the months. Of course, it didn’t help that no one bothered to set anyone straight about that.
“He’s fine,” she said evasively, wanting to change the subject. “How are you? How’s Melissa?”
“We’re staying busy.”
Jessie got the sense that her father wanted to tell her something, but he was stalling. Usually when she asked about her father’s girlfriend, he wasn’t quite so tight-lipped.
“Is something wrong?”
“Depends on what you consider wrong.”
“Daddy,” Jessie said, sitting up straight in the chair. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, actually. Melissa and I have finally made a big decision.”
Jessie held her breath, waiting for her father’s news.
“We’ve decided to move to Coyote Ridge.”
“Are you serious?” she exclaimed, shocked.
“You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
“Of course I do,” she said suddenly.
“We figure now that both of you girls have decided to call Coyote Ridge home, we have no reason to stay up here. We want to be closer to you both. And since I’m gone so often, it’ll bring Melissa closer to family.”
Her father was an airline pilot, so he was gone a lot. And yes, Jessie could totally see how Melissa would be tired of being alone. It would be nice to be able to see her father from time to time. And she wouldn’t have to plan her trips around his schedule. Not to mention, her little piece-of-shit car wasn’t going to make the trek to Dallas much more, if at all.
“When?”
“We’ve put in an offer on a house. I had Kylie pull some information and she went to check it out. Travis and Gage weighed in. If the offer is accepted, we’ll come down to check it out within the seven days we have to back out.”
“Wow, that’s . . . great.”
“Is it?” he asked, his tone concerned.
“It really is, Dad. I’m very happy to hear that. It’ll be great to see you both more often.”
Their conversation continued for several more minutes, but before long, her father ended the call, just as he always did. Jessie was hesitant to let him off the phone, fearful that she’d end up in another ball of tears and snot once she had no one to talk to, but she didn’t want to tell him that.
After she hung up the phone, she glanced around the room. That was the moment she realized she had just lost her only reason for leaving town. Which meant . . .
It meant that she was going to have to figure out what she really wanted.
And how to get Braydon back.
chapter TWENTY-FIVE
“Are you really feeling better?” Cheyenne asked him for what seemed like the hundredth time.
It felt as though Cheyenne had been grilling him endlessly, but that was only because Brendon was feeling the repercussions of the concussion mixed with a significant amount of guilt. On top of that, his normally sunny disposition had taken a one-way trip to the Bahamas a
nd he didn’t see it coming back anytime in the near future.
“Yes,” he replied, trying desperately not to bite her head off in the process.
Before she could pelt him with more questions, the front door flew open and in stormed Braydon.
Oh, hell. He was pissed.
Brendon watched him, as did Cheyenne. They watched him stomp from the front door all the way to his bedroom. Brendon kept his eyes trained on Braydon’s bedroom door while his twin slammed around in his room doing God knows what. A second later, he was stomping back across the living room on his way to the front door.
And then he was gone. Vanished without a single word, but the scowl on his face had been enough.
“He okay?” Cheyenne asked, still staring at the front door.
The sound of Braydon’s truck starting up, followed by him revving the engine unnecessarily and ending with the familiar ping of gravel spraying the front of the house, was her answer to that question.
Brendon forced himself up off the couch, heading for the bathroom to wash his face.
His mother had come over to make sure he wasn’t at death’s door. After he had finally assured her that he was just a little light-headed, she had talked to Cheyenne while babying him as much as she could. Brendon had wanted to fight her off, but he knew better. His mother was the one woman Brendon made a point not to piss off.
Not that he usually made a point of pissing off any woman. Just Cheyenne, it seemed.
When he emerged from the bathroom a short while later, he found Cheyenne still sitting on the couch, looking just as gorgeous as always. With her long, dark hair flowing down her back, the smooth creamy softness of her face, the sexy way she rocked a pair of jeans . . . Brendon knew he couldn’t be left alone with her without running the risk of doing something incredibly stupid.
Which meant he needed to do something else.
“I need to go talk to Jessie,” he blurted, unsure just what prompted the idea, but he was going to run with it.
Braydon Page 29
