by Norris, Kris
“You know that’s not true. Anyone who truly cared about you wouldn’t put what he did back on you.”
Brett snorted. “Then, I guess she never really cared.”
“That’s not what I meant. Fuck.” Cannon took a step, stopped and turned. “Is there anything I can do? We could track her down. Get answers.”
Brett raised his beer. “Got all the answers I need, right here.”
Another grunt. Cannon looked as if he was going to argue but merely nodded. “I’ll be waiting up to make sure you get back. Don’t make me wait all night. And Colt?”
“Yeah, man?”
“Not every woman is like her. I promise. There’s someone out there for you.”
“Or maybe, that’s just not how my life’s gonna play out.”
He waved off Cannon’s reply. The pep talk the other man was no doubt going to preach, despite the fact Cannon didn’t seem to need a relationship. Hell, in all the years Brett had known him, he couldn’t remember the guy getting serious over anyone. Ever.
Maybe Cannon had it right? Maybe that’s how guys like him, like Brett, survived? Made a life in the Teams without endless regrets. They gave up on the hope of ever finding someone that meant more to them than their brothers. Their honor.
He glanced at Cannon. “It’s fine. I’m fine, I just need a night.”
“You sure that’s the best course of action? We all have a tendency to bury the bad shit.”
“So?”
“Makes it hard to feel the good.”
Brett paused. There had been a tone in Cannon’s voice. Sadness. Regret, maybe. Hard to tell for sure, but the guy was definitely referring to more than just Brett’s troubled love life.
Not that it mattered. He’d seen the light. Found his version of Jesus. “The only good is making it through a mission alive. Seeing my brothers do, too. That’s all I’ve got, right now. All I need to focus on from here on out. I’ll be back by midnight.”
Cannon sighed then walked off. Brett watched the man fade into the crowd of bodies, signaling the bartender he needed another beer. Cannon was right. Brett had spent too many years pushing the bad shit down until nothing remained. Until he was just numb. Maybe that’s why he always ended up alone.
Or, maybe, he was just cursed. Destined to always be on the outside looking in. Lots of the guys made it work. Found a way to be soldiers and lovers. Husbands and fathers. Why Brett couldn’t seem to figure it out was a mystery.
Or just a by-product of a crappy roll of the dice. Being related to a man the world regarded as a monster. Having to constantly rise above it—atone for sins that weren’t Brett’s.
Despite what Cannon had said, Brett doubted anyone could ever look beyond it. See him as anything other than a serial murderer’s son. As if it was lying dormant beneath his skin, just waiting to lash out—turn him into a younger version of his father.
Not going to happen, but that wasn’t something he could prove. Guarantee. And once the truth was out—there wasn’t any way to step back behind the curtain. Hide it all away.
The military had—after an exhausting security check and letters of reference from the detectives that had arrested his father. The federal agents involved. They’d gone to bat for Brett. He’d always wondered if the service had secretly hoped a bit of his old man was actually inside him—the part that made him an excellent hunter. Killer. And he’d fought against those notions when it seemed his peers had bought into it, too. Until he’d made Delta Force and been assigned to Cannon’s squad. After that, everything had changed. He’d become Colt—brother and valued member. The other guys hadn’t done more than nod when he’d given them the obligatory speech—the one he should have given to Ellis—then dropped it. Permanently. As if it didn’t matter to them. Wasn’t something they processed or thought about when they looked at him.
And he’d had a glimmer of hope. One shining fucking moment of clarity. Of thinking he might be beyond his past. That, maybe, other people—the woman he’d eventually fall in love with—Ellis—would see beyond it, too.
Except, where that hadn’t been the case. Not even close.
The bartender dropped off his beer, thanked him for the tip, then left. Brett stared at the water condensing on the bottle—watching the drops slowly slide down the side. He should have told her. He knew that. He’d had endless opportunities to just spit it out. Had actually tried on several occasions but…
He hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. Not after the way it had imploded previous relationships. Made him feel like a freak. A failure. Less of a man. And with everything going so well this time around… He’d known from the start that Ellis was different. She’d made him consider options he hadn’t before—picture a life outside his unit. Outside the Teams. With more than just his brothers to keep him company.
She’d made him dream. Losing it all, now…
Maybe, he’d been secretly hoping she wouldn’t find out. That, when he eventually told her, fifty years down the road, it would be so far removed, it would slip by with nothing more than a shrug and a sigh. That, for once, he could just be Brett Sievers—Delta Force soldier, and the man in love with Ellis Baker. That he would be enough. That he wasn’t Daniel Sievers’ son.
Brett had been wrong. Horribly wrong. And that one mistake—that stupid conversation he should have made happen. Should have found a way to get out in the open—would be his undoing. The reason he swore off women, off love. Why he’d refuse to date, again. Empty sex. Cannon seemed to get by on it. No reason Brett couldn’t follow in his buddy’s footsteps. Shelter that last shattered piece of his heart he hadn’t given to Ellis. Do his best to keep it hidden.
He didn’t know what hurt more—that Ellis hadn’t even bothered to ask him, first? Had just made assumptions and left? Or the way she’d done it. As if they hadn’t shared all those months together. Hadn’t said they loved each other. Hadn’t been on the verge of forever.
Maybe he should track her down. Make her face him. Look him in the eyes as she ripped out his heart—bled it dry. Called him a monster. It might be worth it to see her one last time, even if it was to hear the truth.
No fucking way. He’d trained for years to overcome weakness. To bury any fear. To face life expecting to die. And he’d made peace with that. But he was man enough to admit—at least, to himself—that the prospect of facing her—seeing the hatred in her eyes. The disgusted look on her face—was more than even he could bear. That she was beyond his training. His limits.
Besides, it wouldn’t change anything. Knowing the truth, hearing it, firsthand, wouldn’t ease the pain crushing his chest. Make it easier to breathe. To move on. And it sure as hell wouldn’t fill the empty hole in his heart. Which meant, it was time to give Brett his walking papers, and focus on being Colt, instead. Hardened soldier. Loner. A man with nothing left to lose.
Colt raised his beer, watching more drops glisten in the bright lights. Whatever the reason, he’d drink to it.
About the Author
Author, single mother, slave to chaos—she’s a jack-of-all-trades who’s constantly looking for her ever elusive clone.
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