by Paula Mabbel
A year ago in December, Declan had been offered the chance to lead his own mission in Eastern Europe, something so private and so secretive that all he could tell Bronwyn was that he’d be gone for a year. They’d fought viciously; she was tired of him putting his career over their relationship, and he couldn’t understand why she didn’t understand his commitment to his job. They weren’t speaking when he left the next morning, and all of their conversations since had been stilted and unpleasant.
Now, she’d never get to tell him she was sorry. How could she have been so selfish?
Bronwyn was sobbing quietly in her hands when Roger walked into the kitchen and sat down on the floor next to her. Her father-in-law was a man of few words, but he’d always treated her like a daughter, and she adored him. He inched over and put his arm around her, and kissed her head softly when she rested it on his shoulder.
“I’ve spoken to Ty and he’s already on his way home. They’ve given him indefinite leave, so we won’t have to deal with this on our own. But he doesn’t know much more than we do about Declan. Apparently, whatever he was doing was even more classified than Ty’s job.”
Bronwyn used her sleeve to wipe the tears from her eyes.
“When wasn’t it classified, Roger? When did we ever know what he was doing, or why he was leaving? I don’t know how it feels to be Declan’s wife any more than I know how it feels to be a movie star. We bought this farm to raise animals, and a family, and now, I have nothing. What am I supposed to do now? What do I do now?”
Roger pulled Bronwyn in closer, hoping he could somehow make her feel better about how things had been left between her and Declan, that he could hug away her pain.
“Ty will know what to do, Wynnie. He’ll be back soon and he’ll know what to do.”
Tyler was almost eight years older than Declan and Bronwyn, and she barely knew anything about him at all. He’d enlisted in the Navy before she and Declan had even met. But Roger and Annie had always talked about him like he was a saint, an angel, a magician who could walk on air and water without batting an eye. She didn’t know what good it would do to have Tyler back in Montana, but if it would help her in-laws get through this, it would be worth it.
She just didn’t know who was going to help her.
Chapter Three
Tyler
Tyler got off the plane in Howe, Montana, expecting to see his parents waiting for him. Instead, he walked up to the area surrounding the baggage claim and locked eyes with Declan’s wife, Bronwyn. He hadn’t seen Bronwyn since she and Declan had gotten married, and she’d been little more than a child then. Now, she looked different, grown up, still as short and curvy as she’d always been but now… her huge brown eyes carried the weight of being a soldier’s wife. Her long, curly mocha hair was swept back back in a loose ponytail, which only highlighted her pale skin, her pink lips, and her sad eyes.
Ty could hardly believe she was the same girl, but she had those same giant doe eyes that he’d always found so unsettling. It was like she was looking right through him, inside of him and beyond him, and it made him more nervous than anything he’d faced down in all of his years on the battlefield. He approached her hesitantly and pulled her into a one-armed hug, trying not to make her feel uncomfortable.
“Bronwyn… I can’t believe how… grown up you are. How long has it been?”
Bronwyn took a few steps back as she pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes. It was clear she was trying to hide tears that were welling up.
“Six years. You haven’t been back for more than a few days since the wedding, and you never seem to be in town long enough for us… me, to see you. I know your parents have missed you.”
Tyler nodded. “I meant to come home more often, but there never seemed to be time. Now. I should have been here. Maybe Declan would have stayed.”
Bronwyn tensed up and he immediately knew he’d said something brutally unkind. “Wynnie, I didn’t mean anything…”
She didn’t say another word. She just turned and walked out of the small airport, and headed straight for her truck, which was parked outside. As Ty waited for his bag to come through the luggage chute, he kept muttering under his breath, “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”
* * *
The ride back to the farm was silent. Bronwyn looked straight ahead as she drove, and Ty watched the scenery fly by. He hadn’t been back to Howe in four years, but in that time, nothing had changed. The streets were the same, and the farms. Even the old men sitting outside the diner looked exactly the same. It was as if time stood still in his hometown. The only thing that had changed was Bronwyn, and he found the way she had aged utterly unnerving. She was like a fairy in cowboy boots, and he couldn’t stop watching her out of the corner of his eye.
When they pulled up in front of the farmhouse, Roger and Annie were already on the porch, waiting for them to arrive. Tyler didn’t even have time to get out of the truck before his parents rushed him, and gathered him in their arms, sobbing. Bronwyn couldn’t deal with anymore crying, and she hurried into the house to avoid another scene. Tyler couldn’t help but watch as she ran inside and slammed the screen door shut behind her.
Roger pulled away from Tyler and shook his head sadly.
“She’s not really dealing with any of this. She seems to be on auto-pilot, and nothing we say is bringing her back.”
Tyler nodded. He knew that feeling well; it was easier to push down the hurt than it was to deal with it, but that also meant eventually, she was going to explode. Annie pulled Tyler from his thoughts by taking his hand in her own and squeezing it tightly, as if he might float away. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.
“Tyler, we’re going to need to go back to our own house soon. We have the horses, and the cats. But Bronwyn can’t take care of all of this on her own for much longer. Is there any chance you could stay here, with her, and help with the farm?”
Tyler looked around at the property, and everything looked to be in pretty good shape. But he assumed that there was something going on he couldn’t see, so he nodded that he would. But in truth, the idea of staying alone in the house with Bronwyn made him nervous; he just couldn’t pinpoint why.
He followed his parents into the house and was blown away by how perfect everything was. It was more like a small carriage house, but it was warm, with a roaring fireplace in the living room, and over-stuffed furniture filling every corner. The walls were painted cheery blues and yellows, and family pictures covered every surface. There was even a picture of Tyler and Declan as kids, in the entryway leading up to the stairs. Tyler couldn’t pinpoint why, but he could never imagine Declan living anywhere like this. His brother was a wild thing, and this was never the life he talked about living when they were kids.
Tyler walked into the kitchen where Bronwyn was making coffee, and putting together a plate of leftover Thanksgiving food. Tyler sat at the antique breakfast table, and watched her as she worked silently.
“I’m sorry for what I said at the airport. I hope you know I didn’t mean anything by it. Not… what it sounded like. I just feel like Declan was always chasing after me, trying to prove he was brave like his big brother. If it wasn’t for me, he may never have joined the Marines, you know?”
Bronwyn turned and brought the plate of food over to where Tyler sat, and set it in front of him, along with a glass of red wine. She sat down next to him with a mug of coffee and let out a long sigh.
“You’re no more to blame than I was. We never should have gotten married; we were too young. I think he thought he was easier to keep running away than come back and face me. Hell, maybe neither of us are to blame. Declan made his own damn decisions. He could have come home at any time but he kept re-enlisting. I loved him, but this felt… inevitable.”
Tyler watched Bronwyn as she talked. It was almost as if she’d been preparing herself for this moment for so long, it hadn’t even come as a surprise. She’d become so used to being alone, it was all she even
knew anymore. He picked at the food out of respect, but even after the long flight and who knows how long since a home-cooked meal, he couldn’t bring himself to eat.
Luckily, they were interrupted by Annie and Roger, so Tyler didn’t have to say anything. He had no idea what to say anyway. They sat down at the table, nervous as fleas.
“Bronwyn, honey, we really need to go back to the ranch tonight. Would you be okay with Tyler staying here with you for a while? Just until you get settled and he figures out what to do next? We don’t want to leave you here, but we can’t ask our neighbors to stay at our place any longer,” Roger asked anxiously.
Tyler felt his stomach flip nervously. He wasn’t sure this was the best idea, but he had no legitimate reason to say no. And he could tell by the look in Bronwyn’s eyes that she wasn’t sure either. But she shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.
“I’ve been doing fine on my own, but I guess I could use help getting the repairs done on the barn. And the goat pen needs a few touch-ups. If Tyler wants to stay here and help me with those things, that’s fine, I suppose.”
Annie smiled sadly across the table at Bronwyn. “I think it will be good for both of you. You’ll see. Even if it’s just while Tyler looks into getting into school, and finding a place to live. You’ll see.”
Tyler had to stifle the urge to laugh nervously. His mother was always so sure about everything but this time…
He wasn’t so sure this was the right call for any of them.
Chapter Four
Bronwyn
The next few weeks passed in a flurry of silent renovations to the farm, mostly quiet meals, and awkward stares on the way to the bathroom in the morning. Bronwyn couldn’t stop noticing how Tyler looked nothing like Declan: where Declan was short, and muscular, Tyler was tall and lean. Declan was a blonde with serious blue eyes, and Tyler had black hair with mischievous cocoa eyes. When she was around him, she felt things she hadn’t felt for years, and it was driving her crazy with guilt.
How could she be attracted to her husband’s brother? And so soon after… No, this is ridiculous, she thought spitefully. You’re losing your mind. It’s grief. Grief is making you crazy, she chided herself as she watched Tyler work on the rebuilding the barn door. She made a promise to herself to distance herself even more from her brother-in-law, even if that meant being cold.
That night, when Tyler came in for dinner, Bronwyn didn’t say a word to him. She just set his plate on the table and went back to the stove, where she stirred a pot full of berries she was turning into preserves. She could feel him watching her as she poked at the strawberries, and it was unnerving her.
“Do you need something?” she asked, never turning around. Tyler chuckled, but didn’t say anything. It made her even more nervous.
“You could go watch TV if you’re done. In the other room. Where I’m not.”
Tyler walked up behind her and set his dishes next to sink.
“Did I do something to offend you? Because I feel like I haven’t said enough since I got here to offend you.”
Bronwyn put the spoon down and took a deep breath. She had no idea what to say; everything that popped into her mind seemed inappropriate, or ludicrous, or like it had the potential to cause irreparable damage to the only family she had. So in the end, she said the only thing she could think of… the truth. Or the closest version of the truth she was capable of expressing without sound like a nutcase.
“Tyler, I’ve been on my own for a long time. Even when Declan was here, he wasn’t here. So I suppose I’m just trying to adjust to having someone else in the house, in my space. I appreciate everything you’re doing, I really do. I just… I’m not used to you yet.”
Tyler nodded. He was so quiet, so understanding, and it was making Bronwyn feel like a traitor to her husband’s memory. Declan had barely been gone a month, and yet here she was, standing next to Tyler, noticing the way he smelled of cedar and soap. She wanted to push him away, but she knew she couldn’t keep doing that forever. Every day he spent in the house, every day he hovered in her periphery, was another day she was losing her resolve to fight.
Eventually, Tyler left the kitchen, and went into the living room, and Bronwyn felt like she could breathe again. But she was always aware that he was nearby, and once she was done jarring the fruit, there was nothing left to do but join him. When she walked out with a mug of tea, Tyler was curled up on the couch, flipped through channels as he stared at the TV over top of the fireplace. He was snuggling a pillow with a slight smile, as if he were the keeper of a great secret. Bronwyn stifled a scowl and sat on the furthest end of the couch, as far away from him as possible while still staying off the ground.
“Any preference on what you want to watch? I can’t remember the last time I sat down and just watched TV.”
Bronwyn shrugged, “Whatever you want. I don’t watch a lot of TV.”
That was a lie. All she did every night while Declan was away was watch TV: reality shows, medical soap operas, movies… she didn’t care what she was watching, so long as it was distracting. But she didn’t want to admit that, for fear it would make her look even more lame than she already felt. Yet again, she felt Tyler watching her out of the corner of her eye.
“What?” she asked, annoyed.
“Don’t bullshit me. I saw your eyes light up when I flipped by Scandal.”
Bronwyn couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Am I that transparent?”
“Only partially. I’ve also heard you watching it in your room every night. You don’t have to pretend for my sake. You’d be surprised what SEALs watch when they have a little down time. Baking shows were popular for a while.”
Bronwyn felt herself settling down a little bit, even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to. She sipped her tea and stared at the TV, trying to focus on the political drama that was unfolding, but failing miserably. The chamomile tea was making her sleepy, and she felt her head starting to drop against her will. Bronwyn barely noticed as Tyler held his arm out, gesturing for her to set her head on his shoulder and rest her eyes. She wanted to fight, but there was something so comforting about having Tyler next to her, that before she knew what she was doing, she was dozing in the crook of his neck.
She felt like she was drifting inside of a dream, a dream in which her life had taken a very different path all those years ago. She wouldn’t have gotten pregnant at eighteen, and Declan wouldn’t have married her out of guilt. Bronwyn would have lost their baby the first time Declan was shipped off to the middle east, and he wouldn’t have stayed with her all of these years, simply because neither of them knew how to take back what they’d done. The feelings she felt for Tyler were real, but the guilt was real too. And they were killing her.
But the truth was, Tyler was like a dream too, and the way her body fit into his perfectly was enough to push away all of her doubts. Every time Tyler laughed at something on TV, or sighed, her head would gently rise and fall with his chest, and it gave her comfort. The sound of his deep, soft laugh filled his chest, and her heart.
Bronwyn didn’t know what to do next; her mind was awash in the confusion of emotions, and the power of them. All she wanted was for someone else to make a decision for her, for the universe to guide her and take her confusion away. Instead, she opened her eyes and realized that Tyler wasn’t looking at the TV anymore.
He was looking down at her.
His smile was sweet, and shy, but tinged with the slightest touch of panic, as if part of him were fighting the same feelings. Tyler reached up and pushed a stray curly hair away from her face, and tucked it gently behind her ear. He leaned down to kiss her, and his kiss was tender and loving, infused with a kind of passion Bronwyn had never really known. She felt like she should stop him, but she didn’t want to. For the first time in her life, she was making decisions based on her own desires, and she refused to fight it.
Bronwyn leaned over and into Tyler, letting her legs arms tangle with his, welcoming the feel of him, the
warmth of his body as it pressed gently against hers. Something overwhelmed Bronwyn, a desire coursing through her body that she'd never felt in her life, and she rolled on to her knees, straddling Tyler’s strong waist and tightening her legs against his muscular thighs.
At first, Tyler’s face registered the same panic he’d been feeling before, but then he became lost in the sensation of having Bronwyn’s small body wrapped so tightly against his own. She slid her hands up and underneath Tyler’s t-shirt, relishing every inch of his sinewy abdomen and chest. Tyler lifted his arms over his head, giving Bronwyn the ability to pull off his shirt, giving her full access to his broad shoulders, and his defined collarbone.
She couldn't stop herself; she let her fingers trace their way across his warm, tanned skin. She kissed his shoulders, and took in the sharp manly smell of him, fire smoke and cedar and the lingering scent of a hard day’s work. He was intoxicating, and Bronwyn couldn’t get enough of him.