by Janice Lynn
“Pizza!” Justice jumped up from her lap and grabbed hold of her hand, tugging her up. “Uncle Vann let me order whatever I wanted on our pizza. I don’t like black, uh—leaves.”
Brielle laughed at her son’s wrinkled nose and disgusted expression.
“He ordered one with everything and one with just the things you like. Go figure.”
Realizing that despite meeting Ross at Julian’s and their discussion at his place about her skipping meals, she’d actually ended up not eating a thing. Neither did she feel hungry, but she knew she needed to eat. She put a few slices on a paper plate and ate in the living room while her brother and Justice took toy bulldozers and demolished each other’s castles with a lot of sound effects. They visited and laughed until Justice’s bedtime. Brielle gave her son his bath, tucked him into bed with a story, lots of kisses, and a prayer. Within minutes he was sound asleep and with one last kiss to his forehead she went to find her brother.
He’d completely cleared away all traces of their building/demolition spree and now reclined, flipping through the television channels with the outstretched remote.
“Nothing’s on,” he commented, setting the controller on the chair arm. “He down for the night?”
Nodding, Brielle sank onto the sofa. “Thanks for clearing up the blocks, but that doesn’t get you off the hook.”
“You’re welcome, and I didn’t know I was on the hook.”
“You didn’t return my calls earlier this week,” she reminded him, nervous energy keeping at bay the fatigue she should be feeling after her long day.
He shrugged. “You said there wasn’t an emergency. I knew I’d see you today. Tell me about why you were late coming home tonight.”
She eyed her brother closely. If Vann Winton was the type of man to squirm, he’d be wiggling against the leather recliner. He didn’t, of course, not her big, brave older brother, but he may as well have.
“You know exactly why I was late coming home tonight, don’t you? You knew he was coming.” She couldn’t bring herself to say Ross’s name out loud.
Not bothering to pretend he didn’t know exactly what and who she meant, Vann sighed. “Samantha told me as soon as she learned who was filling in for Dr. Jenkins. I can’t say I was surprised.”
Brielle’s heart rate picked up. “Why? How could his showing up to work at the hospital where I work not be a surprise after all this time? Do you two stay in touch?”
“No.” Vann’s expression pinched and Brielle had another twinge of guilt, one triggered by how her relationship with Ross had affected his relationship with her brother. Vann shifted in the recliner, shrugged. “I ran into him a few weeks ago.”
“Ran into him?” Panic replaced her guilt. Had Vann mentioned Justice?
“At the medical conference I spoke at in Philadelphia. He was also one of the presenters and our paths crossed a couple of times.”
“That was almost two months ago,” she accused, feeling as if her chest was caving in around her lungs. “Knowing what you know, you didn’t bother to mention running into him?” Her heart beat wildly against her ribcage. Had Ross known all along and just been faking not knowing about their son? Had he been waiting for her to tell him?
“Why would I mention him to you?” Vann’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re over the man, right?”
“Right, but...” She trailed off, took a deep breath, and reminded herself to remain calm. “You know the reasons you should have mentioned seeing him to me.”
His face tightened. “Justice?”
Brielle didn’t answer. There was no point in answering. Not when he already knew the answer. He’d never asked if Justice was Ross’s child. He hadn’t had to.
“That doesn’t explain why you thought he might come here.”
“He asked me about you a dozen times in Philly.”
Her heart quickened. “Asked what?”
“How you were, if you were married, if you were seeing anyone, if you ever mentioned him, where you lived. Those kinds of questions. He couldn’t seem to get enough information about you.”
Panic hit afresh. “What did you tell him?”
“I didn’t tell him about Justice, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
No, that was her job and what weighed on her mind.
“You need to tell him.”
Her brother’s words crashed into her thoughts.
“Why do you say that?”
Vann just stared straight into her soul, the same way he had at any point in her life when he was waiting for her to do what he considered the “right thing”.
“This isn’t taking a tube of lipstick back to a department store, Vann.”
He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. Just as he hadn’t had to when she’d gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd back in the ninth grade and had made a stupid mistake. He’d been right then. Yes, returning the make-up she’d taken had been a horribly humiliating experience, but the right action. However, this was her son’s life they were talking about. Her life.
“I tried to tell him,” she reminded him, hating it that her voice whined, that she sounded so defensive.
Vann didn’t blink.
“He said he didn’t want anything to do with me.” Saying the words out loud ripped scabs off wounds best left untouched. “I tried to tell him, and he wouldn’t listen.”
“Maybe he wasn’t ready to hear what you had to say.”
Brielle’s jaw dropped at her brother’s calm tone. “You’re defending him? Really? Why would you do that?”
Vann took a deep breath, ran his fingers through his dark hair, which was graying slightly at the temples. “All I’m saying is that maybe he’s ready now to hear what you have to say. Maybe that’s why he’s here.”
Brielle’s chest swelled with—was that frustration? Anger? Hurt? “What about me? Who says I was ready to have an unplanned pregnancy thrust on me? To sit week after week in NICU, praying my premature son lived while he went off to build his career? To chase other women?”
“He didn’t know about Justice, Brielle. If he had, he would have married you.”
“Oh, yes, every girl’s happily-ever-after dream. To know the man she loves is only with her because she got knocked up.” Oh how the thought of that hurt. Like mother, like daughter. “That’s so not what I wanted and you of all people should understand that.”
“Don’t be crude and don’t compare yourself to our mother,” Vann scolded, then drew his brows together in a slight scowl. “Loves? As in present tense?”
Brielle rolled her eyes. “I was speaking about in the past. Until this week I hadn’t seen the man in five years.”
“Yet in the few days he’s been here he’s put you in a major whirlwind.”
“Of course he has. I’d be foolish if I wasn’t upset. What if he tries to take Justice away from me?”
Vann’s expression darkened. “He wouldn’t do that. You’re a good mother.”
She stared at her brother. “Can you guarantee that? Because I’m not willing to risk losing my son to that man.”
“That man is his father.”
“Yes, but...” Oh, how she hated it when Vann made sense, when he was logical, when his voice remained calm but his words delivered thunderous blows, when he was right.
She collapsed back into the fluffy cushions on her sofa, closed her eyes, and faced the inevitable.
She had to tell Ross about their son.
As if the devil heard her thought and mocked the decision she’d been going back and forth on from the moment she’d first seen Ross in Bean’s Creek, Brielle’s doorbell rang.
When she opened the door, a distraught Ross stood on her doorstep.
CHAPTER FIVE
ROSS STARED AT Brielle’s shocke
d expression and tried to recall what argument he’d given himself on why he had a right to follow her home, to drive around aimlessly mulling over all the things they’d said, on why he now stood on her doorstep.
“Can we talk?”
“I...” She glanced over her shoulder, as if looking at someone, then glanced back at him. “We can.” She closed her eyes. “We need to.” She swallowed hard. “But now isn’t a good time.”
Ross glanced at the expensive luxury sedan in her driveway, realization dawning. “You have a man here?”
The man? The one she claimed to love? His stomach clenched. Sweat prickled his skin.
“Yes, she does,” a deep male voice answered. “What about it?”
“Vann.” A myriad of emotions struck Ross. Initially, relief that Brielle hadn’t gone from his arms to another man’s, then overwhelming regret. This man had been his college roommate, his best friend. Why had he not fought to repair the friendship after his and Brielle’s break-up? Why had he let their friendship end too? He’d lost his two best friends when he’d left North Carolina. No wonder he’d been so bone-aching miserable and lonely when he’d first arrived in Boston that he’d gone on a social whirl, trying to fill the void.
“Good to see you,” he said with brute honesty.
His former friend eyed him for long moments, then surprised him by turning to Brielle.
“I’ve got to head to Samantha’s.” He bent and kissed her cheek. To Ross he only nodded then walked past him out the door.
“Don’t go!” Brielle practically begged her brother. “Please, don’t go.”
Vann paused, turned, looked directly at her. “I figure you two have things to talk about that I’d just be a third wheel for, but...” his gaze cut to Ross and his expression hardened “...I’m only a phone call away if I’m needed.”
Yeah, Ross knew exactly what Vann meant. Hurt his sister again and he’d do more than bloody his nose. That had been Vann’s promise.
Brielle was staring at her brother in shock. No doubt she’d never heard the dark threat in Vann’s tone before. Vann didn’t do dark, but when it came to Brielle he’d hold his own with anyone.
Ross nodded his understanding at the man glaring at him.
“You don’t have to go, Vann,” Brielle began again, obviously not wanting her brother to leave. Did she think she needed protection from Ross?
Recalling how hot the fires burned between them, perhaps they both needed protection.
“You know I do, sis.” Vann’s expression seemed to be saying a lot more than his words. “You’re going to be fine. Regardless, you will be fine.”
Swallowing, she nodded.
“Call if you need anything. I’ll be at Samantha’s all weekend.” He winced. “Unless we argue again.”
Ross couldn’t help but wonder at Vann’s comment. Were he and Samantha having problems? They’d been together so long he just assumed they got along. Maybe more had changed over the past five years than just his relationship with Brielle.
He and Brielle stood on her porch, watching her brother get into his car and drive away until the taillights had disappeared down the street.
Crickets chirped in the distance. The smell of someone’s barbecue floated on the night air. Ross cleared his throat.
“I suppose we could go in.” She didn’t sound thrilled at the prospect.
“If you don’t want to, we could sit in your porch swing and talk,” he offered, trying to ease her discomfort and perhaps even his own.
Her gaze went to the porch swing built for two. He watched the emotions flash across her face, knew exactly what she was thinking. The porch swing was made for two without extra space for avoiding touching each other.
“No, come inside. We just have to keep it down because Justice is asleep.”
“Justice?”
Brielle’s face paled. Her mouth dropped open. She grasped the doorjamb as if to steady herself.
“I can explain,” she said, but she didn’t. She couldn’t do more than just stare at him, her eyes filled with what? Horror? Shock? Fear?
“Who is Justice?” he asked, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer. “The man you mentioned earlier? He’s here? Asleep in your house?”
She winced, shook her head. “No.”
“Then who is sleeping in your house? Who is Justice?”
She swallowed. Hard. “My son.”
Shock reverberated through him with the force of an earthquake.
“You have a son?” Ross was certain that it was his eyes, his very soul that were filled with horror, shock, fear. An odd, extremely painful tug ripped at his heart. Brielle had a son. “Why didn’t Vann tell me you had a kid? Why didn’t you tell me?” He knew his words were accusing, but he didn’t care. Brielle had a child. How could she have done that to him? The thought of her having a child felt like the ultimate betrayal. Had he really expected her to have just been waiting for him the past five years? Perhaps, arrogantly, he had. He raked his fingers through his hair then grimaced, took a deep breath. “You really have a child?”
Still gripping the doorjamb for dear life, she nodded.
“A son.” He took an even deeper breath, needing oxygen in his aching lungs, needing clarity for his racing mind. “Is his father still in the picture? Is he the man you claim to love?”
“His fath— No,” Brielle shook her head, not meeting his eyes. “I did love him, but he isn’t in the picture. He hasn’t been for some time.”
Ross’s brows came together in a deep V, digging almost painfully into his forehead. “Not at all? Not you or your son’s?”
“He hasn’t been a part of my life for a long time. Or Justice’s.”
Justice. Her son. That odd tug yanked at his chest again. He just couldn’t believe Brielle had a child. He tried to picture her pregnant, to imagine her belly swollen with child, and he just couldn’t. Curvier through her hips and breasts, her body was even better than it had been five years ago.
“Justice...” Ross said the name slowly, letting the boy’s name roll off his tongue. Brielle was a mother. His Brielle. None of his fantasies of her had featured discovering that she was a mother. He didn’t like the ragged emotion jagging through his mind and body. Jealousy that some man had shared that with Brielle. Red-hot, raging jealousy. She’d given birth to another man’s child. Only the idiot hadn’t stuck around. Disappointment that she had that strong a connection to another man, to a child who depended on her for all his needs, hit Ross in the solar plexus.
Selfishly he wanted her to himself, wanted time to explore remaining feelings between them. Instead, she really had moved on, had another life that was far beyond anything he’d imagined.
“I’m not sure what to say. I wasn’t prepared for this.”
“I...” She grimaced, closed her eyes then met his gaze with steely determination shining in her gaze. “Let’s go inside.”
Ramming his trembling fingers into his pants pockets, he followed her into the house, processing the idea of Brielle as a mother, taking in everything around him.
Unlike the apartment they’d shared, Brielle’s house oozed warmth and hominess. Their apartment had been efficient and minimalist. Pictures lined these walls. Pictures of a little boy who looked remarkably like his mother with his pale hair and big eyes. They were blue rather than brown, but those eyes were so similar to Brielle’s that he stopped to stare at a photo of the boy sitting in his mother’s lap. Rather than facing the camera directly, they’d been looking at each other, Brielle smiling, the boy laughing up at her.
“How old is he in this one?”
Brielle paused, took a deep breath then gazed at the photo he was referring to. “He’s two there.”
Two. He realized he didn’t even know how old Brielle’s son was. “And now?”
&
nbsp; She stared at the photo long moments, inhaled sharply. “Is there a particular reason you’re here, Ross? I’ve had a long day.”
“I wanted...” His gaze went back to the photo, stared at the boy, at the pure love and joy shining in Brielle’s eyes and expression as she gazed at her son. “You’re a good mother, aren’t you?”
Her mouth opened then closed. Her face unreadable, she continued to look at the photo then shrugged. “I love my son. He’s my whole world. I try to do what’s right for him, but I’m human and make a lot of mistakes along the way.”
“He’s lucky to have you for a mother.”
“I hope you feel that way after...” Her voice trailed off. She closed her eyes, shifted her feet, filled her chest with air then blew it out slowly.
“After...?” he prompted, instinctively knowing that whatever she’d been going to say, it had been monumental.
“Let’s go and sit down.”
Odd. She’d never been one to avoid conflict in the past. If anything, she’d wanted to discuss everything right then and there. Then again, there really hadn’t been a lot for them to discuss. They’d rarely fought until those last few weeks.
“What changed at the end of our relationship?”
Her brow lifted. “What do you mean?”
“You were different. Why?”
“You’re right. I did change.” She sighed. “That’s one of the things we need to talk about.”
“‘One of’?”
“First, tell me why you are here.”
It was his turn to take that deep breath and slowly release it from his uncooperative lungs.
“Because all I could think about was you,” he admittedly truthfully, knowing tonight he had to set pride aside and be straightforward with her. “I wanted to be sure you made it home okay after you felt bad, so I followed you. I just wanted to be sure you made it okay, so I drove on past and just kept driving and driving. This evening was running through my mind and I just kept coming back to the fact that I’ve missed you.”