Untold

by Shannon Richard

  “Baby,” Brie moaned, eyes closing as her back arched, right there on the precipice of coming.

  “Look at me,” he demanded.

  Her eyes opened almost instantly at his words to find his sapphire gaze right there, focused with intensity on her face. It was then that she fell over the edge, her core clenching tight and pulsing around his still thrusting cock.

  Even in the throes of the most intense orgasm she’d ever had in her life, she watched Finn let go with his own release. The pleasure on his face was one of a man who’d found ecstasy.

  He collapsed onto her, bracing some of his weight so as not to crush her, and she reveled in the feel of him pushing her down into the mattress. His face was pressed to her shoulder, his mouth at her neck as he kissed her skin.

  Brie held him, one hand running through his hair while the other traced over the top of his back. She had absolutely no idea where it came from, but as she lay there with him in her arms, her in his, she felt the burning sensation at the corner of her eyes. When she blinked, warm tears fell down the sides of her face, hitting the pillow.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Grim Truth

  The very last thing Finn wanted to do was go out of town and leave Brie behind. But as he’d agreed to go to a veterinarian’s conference in Houston, and committed to speaking for his alma mater months ago, he felt like he didn’t really have a choice. He just kept telling himself it was only six days. His flight left early Monday morning, and he’d be back by Saturday afternoon.

  The thing was, six days felt like too long to be away from her, especially with the current time line they were on.

  He’d felt like he and Brie had made real progress both emotionally and physically since the night of the charity dinner. That had been over a week ago. And yes, part of that progress was the newest addition to their sex life…or would that be the newest subtraction from their sex life? Either way, the whole no barriers thing had been a pretty massive step for them.

  At least he thought so.

  He still hadn’t told her that he loved her, probably because there was a part of him that was terrified she wouldn’t feel the same way. And he had every right to be because he’d had his heart broken before, and it had taken him eight years to bounce back.

  Or maybe he’d just been in a holding pattern until Brie came into his life. Whatever it was, he was going to have to figure out what he was going to do. As it just so happened, he had a long flight there and back to think about things. There was also all of that time in between that he’d be gone, too.

  Six days, he had six days to figure it out. When he got back to town on Saturday, got back to Brie, he was going to need to have a game plan.

  “You’ll call me when you get there?” Brie asked as they stood in the driveway of the bungalow. He had his hands at her waist as she leaned into him.

  “I will.”

  “I’ll miss you.” She smiled as she looked up at him.

  Those three words had his heart in his throat. “I’ll miss you, too.”

  “Good.” Her hands tightened in his shirt as she stretched herself up for a kiss.

  He complied because he wasn’t an idiot. He’d always want her mouth like a man dying of thirst would want water. “I’ll be back.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yeah. You have my dog.” He reluctantly let go of her as he took a step toward his truck.

  “This is true,” she said as she nodded.

  He hadn’t asked her if she’d watch Frankie, she’d volunteered to do it. And as Frankie was beyond comfortable with Brie and Lo it was the perfect situation. Plus he liked the fact that if he couldn’t be there with Brie, at least his dog was. Frankie might be friendly, but she was protective of her people, and Brie was her people now.

  Just like Brie was one of Finn’s people…maybe the most important person.

  * * *

  The first night Finn was gone, Brie slept horribly. Since that first night he’d stayed at the bungalow when he’d come over to start the fires, she hadn’t slept alone. Apparently she was now accustomed to him being next to her. Accustomed to his big, solid, warm body wrapped around hers.

  She pulled herself out of bed around six on Tuesday morning, giving up on sleep. She was in absolutely no mood or state of mind to sit behind the computer and work on anything academic, so instead she decided to work on packing some boxes in the den/library.

  She thought the task would be good for her, something physical and mostly mindless that would allow her to focus on another topic, like how she felt about Finn. What she felt about Finn.

  As she’d promised, she did miss him. A lot. He hadn’t even been gone for a full twenty-four hours and she was fully aware of his absence. That day would be the first since she’d been in Mirabelle that she would not see him.

  She didn’t like it. Not one little bit.

  It was becoming clear to her, that leaving this town, leaving him, was becoming less and less likely. Well, that was if he even wanted her to stay. She hadn’t broached the subject, mainly because there was no need yet. She still had at least a couple more weeks of work at the house…she’d bring it up then.

  OK, maybe she was a bit of a coward, but really, she was leaps and bounds further than she’d ever gotten before. Not all that surprisingly as she’d never willingly handed her heart over to someone else like this.

  It was terrifying.

  Closing the box she’d just filled with crime novels, she lifted it from the side table, knocking over a stack of leather-bound classics.

  “Dammit,” she muttered to Lo, who barely lifted her head from the pile of blankets she was curled up in.

  Brie moved the box to the other side of the room before she dealt with the books scattered on the floor. When she looked down she noticed that a few had fallen open showing pages filled with a curvy handwriting that she immediately recognized as Bethelda’s. She grabbed the book and stood, reading what had been written.

  I got first place in the statewide writing competition. Mom and Dad couldn’t be more proud…

  Brie’s eyes moved to the date on the top of the page. It was from twenty-eight years ago. Bethelda would’ve been seventeen and a junior in high school. Brie’s focus moved back to the passage, reading about how Petunia and Harold had taken Bethelda out for a celebratory dinner. She’d gotten shrimp scampi and her favorite dessert…tiramisu.

  Flipping to another page, Brie read about the prom and how Bethelda had gone with Billy Granger and they’d danced to “Can’t Fight This Feeling” by REO Speedwagon.

  Brie’s hands were shaking when she closed the book and looked at the front of it. The cover was dark blue leather, embossed with gold and reading The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

  “What in the world?” She set that book on the table before she reached for Jane Eyre, this one a deep burgundy leather, embossed with bronze. Her heart was racing out of her chest when she opened to the first page.

  The date at the top was from New Year’s Day thirty-five years ago. Bethelda would’ve been twelve.

  A few months ago, I was looking through a mail order catalog of Mom’s when I found these journals that look like classic books and immediately fell in love with them. I told Mom about them for a potential Christmas present, but with the price tag on them, I wasn’t too hopeful.

  When I opened my presents on Christmas Day, I opened this, the best present a girl could ask for…

  Brie set that book down and grabbed Alice in Wonderland, which was emerald green and with silver embossed writing. That one had Bethelda’s last semester of middle school and her first semester of her freshman year of high school. David Copperfield—which was in black leather with copper detailing—was from her last semester in college and when she’d moved back to Mirabelle.

  Brie would’ve been three years old when that had been written. She closed the book and looked to the shelf where a whole row of the green, blue, burgundy, and black books sat.

  �
��Holy shit.”

  This was the history she’d been looking for. This was the past she’d been trying to figure out. And she knew, knew, that her father was in one of them. She was going to have to find him.

  As it wasn’t even after eight o’clock in the morning, it was too early for Brie to take a shot of something, so she made herself another cup of coffee. After that, she pulled every single leather-bound journal—posing as a piece of classic literature—down from those shelves and brought them to the dining room table. Then she went through and put them all in order. There were thirty-five, one for each year from when Bethelda started them at the age of twelve. Each book was probably three hundred and fifty pages long, but not all of them were filled to capacity. Some had a few empty pages at the end while others had folded pages stuck in the back.

  Brie stared at the one Bethelda had written when she was eighteen, A Tale of Two Cities.

  Should she start there? Start with the one where Brie would’ve been conceived? Or should she start at the beginning? Get the full evolution of Bethelda? She’d waited most of her life to get the answers she knew were in that book. But would she fully understand those answers unless she started at the beginning?

  No, she wouldn’t. Besides, she’d already waited this long, what was a few more hours? She reached for Jane Eyre before she grabbed her cup of coffee and headed for the living room.

  * * *

  By six o’clock, Brie had made it through six of the journals. She was a bit of a speed reader, and because right now this was about information gathering, she was fine with going through them quickly. She’d have these to reread when she needed to really analyze.

  Her conclusions so far? Well, if Bethelda had been honest with her writing, then she’d been raised by two parents who doted on her, never left her wanting for anything, and loved her with all of their hearts.

  She seemed fairly well rounded if not a little naive, which was understandable for a teenager. She was boy crazy—which was actually very hard for Brie to picture—but she never wrote that she was in love. It was always infatuations and when they ended, she moved on. Well, except for George Michael. There were many entries about Bethelda’s love for the musician.

  But the woman was impulsive when it came to relationships…something Brie had never been. Well, except with Finn, but she wasn’t going to focus on that at the moment.

  Bethelda was also a big reader of all things: classics, mystery, sci-fi, romance, everything. She’d started sneaking her mother’s Harlequins when she was fifteen. When Petunia found out, she just started giving the already read books to Bethelda with the warning of, just don’t tell your father. It was no wonder she’d fallen in love with the covers of the journals she wrote in—she loved books.

  That love of reading ended up fueling Bethelda’s real passion. She wanted to write, so much so that she devoted all of high school into getting a full-ride scholarship to the University of Florida. She got it, too.

  There was a difference between Bethelda’s academic writing—there was a folded copy of her paper that won her the statewide writing competition as well as the paper that got her into UF—and her journal writing. Her academic writing was very precise and scholarly…her journal writing was carefree and fun.

  Bethelda’s UF acceptance was the last thing Brie read in The Great Gatsby journal. Which meant that a Tale of Two Cities was next. It was the last semester of her senior year, that summer, and the first semester of college.

  Brie had been sitting in the chair in the den for the last hour, and she got up and headed for the kitchen.

  She’d spent almost a solid ten hours reading that day. She’d moved around the rooms, lying on the sofa in the living room for a bit, sitting at the desk in the office, taking some time on the swinging bench outside to enjoy the spring air, staying at the dining room table for a bit after she ate her lunch. She’d also paced around the house while she read. This was now possible without fear of getting hurt as there wasn’t furniture or stuff at every turn.

  And now it was time for some wine and food before she started journal seven, thus her journey to the kitchen.

  As she was still in the information stage of things, she wasn’t at the processing part yet. And really, how could she process anything? So far Bethelda seemed normal. She wasn’t terrible or twisted, wasn’t mean and vengeful. She was hopeful…happy.

  Brie’s cell phone started vibrating against the counter, and she looked down to see Finn’s name. She swiped her finger across the screen to pick up the call and put the phone to her ear. “Hey.”

  “Finally. I was about to call in reinforcements.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been texting you all day. I called earlier, too, but you didn’t answer.”

  “Oh, I…I got caught up in some stuff around the house.” Her voice sounded off to even her, maybe because she hadn’t really used it all day besides talking to the dog and cat.

  “You OK?”

  “Yeah. Just tired; I didn’t sleep well last night without you.” At least part of that was the truth. Yet she felt like it was the biggest freaking lie. Why didn’t she tell him what she’d found? Why was she keeping it to herself? What was she afraid of?

  “Same here,” Finn agreed. “It’s been nonstop since I got here. My old director had an itinerary for me when I met with him this morning.”

  “That sounds delightful.”

  “Yeah, not so much. I’m going to dinner tonight with one of my buddies who lives up here…” He kept talking, telling her about his day, that he missed her, that he’d rather be there with her.

  There was something about listening to his voice that made her feel her feelings. She’d been able to block it off, shut it down all day. But now, with his voice in her ear, she was trying desperately to not start crying.

  She should tell him, but when she opened her mouth to, the words wouldn’t come out. Maybe it was better to wait until she knew everything. Yeah, that was why she wasn’t saying anything.

  Instead she leaned against the counter and sipped on her wine while he talked. By the time they got off the phone she was pouring herself a second glass and grabbing a bag of chips. Dinner of champions.

  When she walked into the dining room to get the journal, she stared at it for a full five minutes. “It’s now or never.” She grabbed the book and headed for the living room again.

  * * *

  May 25

  I’ve met him, the man of my dreams. Daniel Fernandez. He’s beautiful. Dark brown hair, golden brown eyes, big smile, tall. Oh man is he tall, six-foot-three.

  OK, so maybe MET isn’t exactly the right word. I saw him from across the room at the CCC and knew he was it for me. I’m saying it now, it was love at first sight. He was loading furniture while I was sorting boxes…

  * * *

  June 7

  DANNY TALKED TO ME! We were passing in the hallway and he told me he liked my red hair and my glasses…

  * * *

  June 19

  Danny calls me Betts. Isn’t that the most perfect nickname on the face of the planet? No need to answer, I already know that it is. Anyway, I learned he’s twenty-one and in town this summer working with his uncle at the marina. They go out on the boats in the mornings to catch fish, and when they get back in the afternoon, Danny works at the CCC for some extra money.

  He’s from Cuba. Well, his parents were from Cuba. They came over here before he was born. His dad died when he was fifteen and his mother passed away four months ago, that’s why he’s up here with his uncle. He wants to have his own boat someday…

  * * *

  June 22

  DANNY KISSED ME!!!!!!!!!! We were outside splitting a coke when he leaned over and just kissed me. It was perfection. He is the world’s absolute best kisser. This is not hyperbole either…

  * * *

  June 28

  It’s official, Danny has asked me on a date. We’re going on Saturday night. I didn’t tell Mom and Dad about i
t, mainly because they most likely would not approve. Dad wants me to stay focused before I go off to school in a couple of months. Plus, there is the fact that Danny is three years older than me. So I told Mom I was going out with Lacy…

  * * *

  July 3

  I am on cloud nine. Danny picked me up last night at five in his uncle’s truck. We drove over to Alligator Lane to go for a walk and a picnic. He held my hand the whole time.

  How can it be that something as simple as hand holding can be the absolute best thing in the world? And he did that thing where his thumb moved back and forth across my hand. It was such a small thing, but I felt it everywhere. Like, goose bumps across my skin, butterflies in my stomach, lungs tightening everywhere.

  And then it started raining. Pouring. We were soaked by the time we got back to the truck, and my dress was sticking to every inch of me. He kept apologizing. Why? I don’t know. It wasn’t like he controlled the weather, and that storm blew in out of nowhere. But then he was kissing me in the rain, pushing me back against the truck. He whispered in my ear that I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

  HE CALLED ME A WOMAN. Not a girl, a w-o-m-a-n. How freaking amazing is that?

  Danny’s plan had been for us to have a picnic outside, but clearly the storm stopped that from happening. So we sat in the cab of the truck, eating ham and cheese sandwiches and potato chips, and drinking the cokes he packed…

  * * *

  July 4

  All I have to say is fireworks. Fireworks everywhere. After the church picnic we went down to the beach (I told Mom I was going with Claudia) to watch the show and Danny brought a blanket for us to spread out on the sand. We lay there for a while before the fireworks in the sky started, me in his arms while he kissed me. That was actually the first set of fireworks.