Broken: The MISTAKEN Series Complete Second Season

by Peak, Renna

  He popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed, opening his eyes. Even though he was wincing at the glare from the light, he made eye contact with me. He grabbed my wrist again, this time pulling me toward him so that my back blocked the light from hitting his eyes. His gaze pierced mine, and I could feel his blue eyes looking into my soul. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jen. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.”

  4

  “Do you love me?” He pulled back to look again into my eyes. “Do you love me, Jen? I need to hear it. I need to feel it.”

  “How could you even ask that?” How could he ask that? Of course I loved him. When I pushed away all of the bullshit—all of it, everything, of course I loved him. If I didn’t think about any of the other stuff—the girls in his apartment, the drinking, the secrets, the over-possessiveness… what was left? The way he looked at me. The way his touch lit a fire under my skin. How my heart felt crushed into a million pieces if he wasn’t there. The way I really didn’t want to live my life without him in it. It didn’t matter if my father threatened me or if Daniel threatened me or anything else. When all of that other stuff was pushed out of the way, all that was left was how I felt about him, and I had never felt it before. The way I felt whole when he was there. How the world seemed like a better place when we were together. That had to be love. I didn’t know what else it could be.

  I entwined my arms around his neck and tilted my head up to whisper into his ear. “I love you, Brandon.” I closed my eyes and felt his arms wrap around my waist. My heart hammered in my chest. “God, I love you.”

  He pulled me into him and dipped his head to rest on my shoulder. We stood there like that in the doorway of the seediest motel in Sacramento for what seemed like an eternity. Just having him hold me, just feeling his breath on my skin … I didn’t want him to ever let me go.

  He took a step back and pulled my hands into his. His gaze dropped to the floor. “Jen, I hope you know that I love you. And I do have something…” His voice trailed off and he paused for a moment. “There’s something you need to know. It’ll be easier if I just show you.” I could see him wincing at his own words, and he still refused to meet my gaze.

  “It can’t be that bad. There’s nothing…”

  He interrupted. “It is that bad.” He finally lifted his gaze to mine. “I’m not a good person, Jen.”

  I tilted my head. We’d had conversations like this before, but he never would tell me exactly what it was that he had done. What in the world he had done that was so awful that he couldn’t live with himself. “Did you kill someone?”

  His brow creased. “No. Why would you think that?”

  I shook my head, almost relieved that he was able to give me that answer. “I don’t think that. But that’s the only thing I can think of that would make me even question loving you. Why can’t you see that?”

  He shook his head and tore his gaze from mine. “Because you don’t know…”

  “Then show me. Tell me. Tell me what it is that’s so horrible that you can’t let yourself believe that I could love you.”

  He nodded. “I need clothes. We’ll need to…”

  I touched his shoulder. “Did you take the box in? The box of things from my place?”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “I guess overreacting has its benefits on occasion. I’ll be right back.”

  I pulled my sweater across my chest. He may not have needed clothes, but I certainly did. After being mistaken for a prostitute last night, I knew I couldn’t go wherever it was he was taking me dressed like this.

  He returned with the box of the things I had packed up the day before. His suits and shoes, toothbrush, hair product. Everything. The psychiatrist had told me to get rid of anything that reminded me of him, and that meant it all had to go. Even the necklace he had given me. I just hoped he wasn’t going to try to force me to take it back. Not when there was still so much left unsaid between us. Those girls…

  He took his time getting ready. I wasn’t sure if it was for my benefit or for the benefit of whatever it was he needed to show me. Considering he had been willing to leave his apartment in his underwear the night before, a little part of me hoped that he was taking the extra time for me.

  It turned out it didn’t matter what the reason was behind his dawdling, because when he came out, he took my breath away. He was wearing my favorite suit, the steel gray one that made his eyes bluer than the Caribbean. The tailoring of that suit conformed to his chest in a way…

  “Hey, my eyes are up here.” He motioned to the huge grin on his face, clearly noticing how taken with him that I was at that moment.

  I couldn’t deny the buzzing feeling in my body—the electricity that was jolting me awake for the first time in forever. If I wasn’t fairly certain of how many people had sex in this room on a daily basis, I would have jumped him right then. Just seeing him like this could melt my anger away in a heartbeat.

  “We should go. I need to pick up a few things, and you…”

  I looked down at the too-revealing cleavage of my dress and pulled my sweater across my chest again. “I know.”

  He nodded, licking his lips as his gaze rested just a moment too long on my breasts. “Yeah.” He blinked a few times before lifting his gaze to meet mine. “Business casual would be good. For you, I mean. For where we’re going…”

  “But formal business wear for you?” I lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t want to be out of place.”

  He shook his head. “You won’t. I … might be.” He shook his head again. “It doesn’t matter. It won’t take that long. To pick up the stuff I need, I mean.”

  I nodded and we took our things to the car. He walked down to the check-in office with me, pulling my hand into his as we walked.

  He let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, Jen. About all of this. I shouldn’t have dragged you into it in the first place. I should have let you go as soon as I knew who you were.”

  “And then everything would be better?” I turned to him, frowning. “It would all be better if we hadn’t met? Hadn’t fallen in love?”

  He turned his gaze back to the walkway and gave my hand a squeeze. “Not better, no. Easier, probably.”

  “Who ever said easy was good?”

  He didn’t reply and we walked into the small office where the same woman from the night before was still propped up behind the desk with her portable television. I slid the key across the desk to her and waited for her to check me out.

  “Did you both enjoy your stay?” Her cackling was like fingernails on a chalkboard. She looked up at Brandon. “You don’t look like the type who needs the services of a girl like her…”

  He pursed his lips and nodded. “How do you know she didn’t hire me?”

  She cackled again and slid a receipt to me across the counter. She looked up at me. “He’s a funny one. You want to leave your card, honey? My cut will be less than your pimp’s, that’s for sure. And the guys who come here would probably love to take a pro with a name like yours, even if you aren’t the senator’s daughter.”

  Brandon tried to hide the grin that came to his lips. “I’m her pimp. And I’m the only one who can do this to the senator’s daughter.” He slid his arms around my waist from behind me and placed a long kiss on my neck, right on the spot he knew would make me melt into a puddle.

  I closed my eyes and arched my neck into him. My breath hitched in my chest and another lightning bolt rifled through me, centering between my legs. My knees were so weak I wasn’t sure I would be able to walk out of the office.

  When I was finally able to find the sense to open my eyes, I saw the woman’s mouth hanging open. There was no cackling that time, no mention of my famous name.

  I nudged Brandon with my elbow and he lifted his lips from my neck and placed a kiss on my cheek, guiding me out of the office. “You think that will shut her up?”

  “You’re my pimp?” I turned around to meet his gaze, arching an eyebrow. “You’re my pimp.�
�� It was hard not to laugh.

  “I could be your pimp. As long as you only work for me.” He lifted an eyebrow suggestively then reached into his pocket and tossed his keys at me. “I seem to be missing my wallet.”

  I smiled. “You seem to have left your apartment in a bit of a hurry last night. You were missing your clothes, too. Maybe they came off when…”

  The steely look in his eyes and shake of his head interrupted me. The smile fell from his face and he sighed. “Let’s not talk about it right now.”

  5

  “Do we really need a cart?” I glanced over at Brandon, who had pulled out a shopping cart as soon as we entered the store.

  “I’ll pay you back.” Ever since I had brought up the night before, he hadn’t smiled. His words to me were stiff, almost businesslike.

  I walked over to the women’s clothing section and picked out a plain, black pencil skirt and white blouse in the size I knew would fit. I hung them in the cart and waited for him to lead us in the direction we needed to go.

  He began walking to the back of the store and I trailed behind him, glancing over the other items as we passed. I didn’t usually get to go shopping, not without Cade tagging along. Being in a big store like this meant too much risk, and I was almost always advised to shop in one of the little boutiques my mother loved so much. Safer. More expensive—much more expensive, but safer.

  I almost had to run to catch up with him after I paused in front of a purse display for a moment. He seemed to be a man on a mission and had no time for me to linger at the displays. “What is it you need to get? Maybe I can help…”

  “I’ll pay you back.” He repeated the words he had already spoken when we arrived and it sent a shiver down my spine—the coldness that came with the words. He didn’t have his wallet, so of course I would have to pay. But it wasn’t like I couldn’t afford to buy whatever it was he needed. He knew that.

  “Why do you keep saying that? You’ll pay me back? You’ve always paid…”

  He turned to me, his eyes icy cold, just like his words. “I said, I’ll pay you back.”

  It felt as if a dagger went through my heart. “I heard you. Why can’t I pay?”

  He turned and began walking again, pushing the cart in front of him. “I don’t need your money.”

  My gaze narrowed. “Is that what this is about? That’s what tripped your switch this time?”

  He stopped in the middle of the walkway and turned to me. “I will not take your money, Jen. Not ever. Okay?”

  “Why? If I’m offering, then why not? It’s not blood money…”

  “It is blood money. Okay?” He turned back to the cart and began walking again. “To me, it is.”

  My trust fund was blood money? Trust funds? I had to walk quickly to keep up with him. I lowered my voice, not that there were many people shopping that early in the morning. “And what about what you do for money? That isn’t blood money, too?”

  He looked up and down a few aisles and kept walking, refusing to make eye contact with me. “No, Jen, it isn’t. I’ve earned my money.” He walked a few more steps and stopped in front of the large toy section of the store.

  I could feel that anger bubbling up inside of me again, the rage he seemed to know how to stoke when he talked about my family. What was left of my family, anyway. As though I had chosen the life I was born into. As though I’d had anything to do with his father’s death, his mother’s … Christ. I had forgotten about the woman in the bar. I knew I needed to ask him about it, who that woman might be. Why she would say she was his mother when Cade said there was no way she could be. Maybe he wasn’t the right person to ask. It might be better to broach the subject with Krystal, especially given his propensity to pop off when I brought up anything that upset him.

  He started piling stuff into the cart—matching things. A pink ball and an identical blue one. Two coloring books for a girl, two for a boy. Two enormous packages of crayons. A blue bottle of bubbles and a matching purple container. A Barbie, then some action figure. Everything one for one, at least several hundred dollars’ worth of toys.

  I watched him set the things into the cart, one after the other. I’m sure my mouth was hanging open and I could feel my heart racing in my chest. The ice I had heard in his voice before—now I could feel it in my own body. I wasn’t sure if it was so much anger that I was feeling as it was a complete and utter shock.

  He had kids.

  That’s what he had been hiding from me all this time? Why he wanted to keep me away from Sacramento? He was afraid I was going to find out. He didn’t trust me enough—didn’t love me enough to tell me. And this is how he was telling me. Having me buy his kids a ton of crap they probably didn’t need or want to show them how much their absent father loved them. It brought back too many memories for me, memories of my own parents doing the same thing. Going on long, extended vacations without me and bringing me back souvenirs and toys that they thought would soothe the sting of their absence. How could I tell him that, though? That stuff didn’t make up for not being there for your children.

  He had kids.

  It made so much sense. Everything about it made sense. Except for the part where he hadn’t told me—that part didn’t make sense at all. His “business” trips. The appointments he didn’t want to talk about. Did he really think I was that shallow—that I wouldn’t be able to handle this information? Did he think it would make me leave him? Not love him?

  My mind raced with this information, even though the only thing he had said was that he would pay me back. Obviously, he wanted to be responsible for his kids—to not let his girlfriend pay for the plastic toys he thought would make up for everything he was putting them through.

  He finished loading up the cart and turned to me, a forlorn look on his face. “I’ll pay you back.”

  “Stop saying that.” My words were a lot angrier than I intended. I tried to soften it, make it seem like I was okay with this news, even though I was almost seething that we had known each other for almost six months and this topic had never come up. “You should have told me.”

  His brow creased. “Told you what?”

  I let out a frustrated sigh. “That you had kids. Did you think I would leave you? That I couldn’t handle it?” Hot tears stung behind my eyes and I had to fight myself to keep them there. “Did you think I was so shallow…?”

  “Jen, you don’t understand. Just…” He rubbed at his jaw and looked back at the pile of stuff in the cart. “Let’s just go. It’ll be easier to explain it there.”

  Right. Just go. His introducing me to his children was going to be the highlight of the past twenty-four hours, right in front being mistaken for a prostitute and finding two scantily-clad women in his apartment. It stung that he didn’t trust me enough to just tell me. That he really thought I was—what? Too immature to handle this? Too shallow? Too much of a spoiled trust fund brat to understand? The pain in my chest only increased when I thought about the absolute fit he had thrown over my working in Sacramento. How he must have been afraid that someone would share his secret with me. Because he must have assumed that I would do something irrational.

  We went to the checkout line and I somehow managed to hold it together. He didn’t say another word to me, just looked away while the cashier rang up the items.

  “These are some lucky kids. Yours?”

  I shook my head and looked over at Brandon, who was fiddling with the candy on the other side of the aisle. “A friend’s.”

  She looked up at me, smiling. “You’re Jenna Davis.” Her grin broadened. “You’re in town for the convention, right? My boyfriend is such a huge political buff. He’s going to die when I tell him you were in my line.”

  I forced a smile, trying to hide the pain I was feeling and the tears I knew would spill out if I said too much more.

  She continued. “He’s been trying to get hired on forever—to do anything, anywhere in politics. What would you tell him to do?”

  I forc
ed the smile again and tried not to let my words spill into tears. “Tell him to volunteer for a campaign. Work hard. Lots of politicians hire their best volunteers.” I motioned with my head toward Brandon. “That’s how his sister got her job with my father.”

  He set the package of gum he was holding back down on the shelf and looked at me. The pain in his eyes almost made the tears I was forcing back slide down my cheeks. But he still didn’t say anything.

  The cashier handed me the bags and I went to the restroom to change into my new clothes. At least I didn’t look or feel like a prostitute anymore. I stuffed the dress into the bag that the skirt and blouse had been in and walked out to find Brandon sitting on a bench near the small concession stand, his gaze fixed on the glass doors at the front of the store.

  I wished I could read whatever it was that was on his face. Fear, mostly, I thought. Fear of what, though, I had no idea. I gulped down the dry lump in my throat and tried to wish away my aching heart. “We should eat.”

  His gaze flicked up to meet mine. “I’m really not hungry.”

  Of course he wasn’t. He was still getting over his hangover—how could I have forgotten? “Coffee, then. It’ll help your headache.”

  He nodded and stood up from the bench. I ordered our coffee and we sat down again at a small table near the entrance of the store, our full cart next to us.