Sighing, Cassandra disconnected the call and set the phone back on the table. A quick glance at her watch told her it was close to 10 p.m. There wasn't anything more she could do tonight. She would have to wait until the morning and hope he called. If he didn't, there would be hell to pay.
14
Brett yawned and he turned the fan on the air conditioner higher, hoping the cold air would keep him awake. What he should've done when he'd gotten home was grab a nap, but demons had been chasing his heels since he'd left Cassandra by the pond at the hotel.
He got her message when he landed and switched his phone back on. It didn't take a genius to know the moment she picked up his call, she'd berate him. Yeah, he deserved it. He'd run and hadn't bothered to leave her a note.
The whole flight back to Colorado he'd fought sleep, knowing if he succumbed, he'd have nightmares. He was pretty sure the other occupants of the plane didn't want to hear him crying when he relived the moment he’d woken up in his wrecked car, the engine hissing, Naomi moaning and nothing but silence, deathly silence coming from the occupant of the passenger seat.
Brett’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Early on a Sunday morning, the roads were clear. He should be getting to the turn off where Naomi lived soon. He’d have to wait for official visiting hours and would have time to take a little nap then.
He approached the turn off and his palms got sweaty. They always did when he visited Naomi. Taking a deep breath, he slowed and turned into the driveway. The trees on either side stretched across the road, branches touching, creating a cave-like feeling.
The large red brick building loomed in the distance, coming closer with every rotation of the tires. Apprehension rode through him as he pulled to a stop and turned the engine off. Visiting Naomi was never easy. It was so hard not to compare the girl he knew then to the one he saw in front of him now. Her body aged. Her mind never did.
Brett parked the car and reclined his seat, hoping his mind would settle enough to rest before he went inside. God, he was tired. All he wanted was to lose himself in the sweet oblivion of sleep. Only sleep was elusive. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was the look of hurt and confusion on Cassandra’s pretty face as he walked away from her at the hotel.
In hindsight, he’d acted rashly. Given his past, her questioning him if he’d done something wrong was reasonable. Two months ago, he probably would’ve gone out and caused trouble to generate a headline. It was his usual M.O., create a diversion to take his mind off his past. So it surprised the heck out of him he didn’t want to do that anymore. How was it possible to change the way he acted all because of one person? Could he really place his actions at Cassandra’s feet? Or was he totally exhausted at always creating headlines?
It was a question he couldn’t easily come up with an answer for. Although a drink did sound like a good idea, it was way too early and he was too far away from a liquor store.
Sitting in the car and moping wasn’t going to help or make the time go any quicker. Brett flung the door open and got out, breathing in the crisp morning mountain air. A chill coursed through him. He rounded to the back of his car and extracted a jacket from his luggage. In minutes, he was sitting on a park bench overlooking the creek that ran along the perimeter of the building. The sun peeked through the trees. He lifted his face toward the beam of light, his arms lying across the top of the bench. His legs stretched out in front of him. Lethargy seeped into his bones, weighing him down like an anchor as the chill faded away under the warmth of the early morning sun. Time faded as his head drooped to his chest and he drifted into a light sleep.
The sharp squawk of a bird jolted him awake. He groaned, moving his head from left to right in an attempt to ease the crick in his neck from falling asleep.
The sun had moved higher, burning away the dawn chill. He stood and bent to touch his toes, stretching his back. A quick look toward the building showed he’d slept for a while. Several staff members were setting up some tables on the back grassed area for some sort of activity, while others placed white wicker chairs and couches in random patterns for visitors to sit and chat with the patients. He and Naomi always sat in the wicker chairs, a small glass table between them. Normally, he brought something for them to eat. Today his focus had been on putting as much distance between him and Cassandra as possible. Not that she would have any idea where he was so it didn’t matter.
Shaking off the remnants of his nap, Brett made his way to the entrance. He walked into the warm building. The faint scent of antiseptic tickled his nose. He knew the facility tried hard to make it seem less like a hospital, but no amount of fresh flowers or furniture polish could mask the fact it was a medical facility. Keeping the patients healthy required them taking all the usual precautions to prevent the spread of illness.
Brett smiled at the receptionist. Being such a regular visitor, he knew most of the staff. He made his way down to Naomi’s room and paused outside of her door. The nerves currently sailing through him annoyed him. They were unnecessary and he pushed them away.
The rapping of his knuckles on the bright red wood echoed around him.
A few seconds passed before the door slowly opened. “Hello? Who’s there?” His heart broke a little at the timid tone of Naomi’s voice.
“Hey Naomi, it’s me, Brett.” He kept his tone deliberately quiet so as not to frighten her. After the accident, she’d regressed back to being nine years old. He hadn’t known Dean well back then, so she wasn’t familiar with him. He’d visited frequently over the last seven years. She’d gotten used to him, but this was how she always answered the door.
“Brett? I don’t know anybody named Brett.”
He sighed. It was going to be a long morning.
* * *
Three hours later, Brett pulled into a different driveway—his own. He couldn’t wait to shower and have something to eat.
His phone buzzed again, but he ignored it. When he wasn’t feeling so raw, he’d call Cassandra back. He couldn’t deal with her berating him for leaving before their scheduled flight. There was no denying he deserved her censure, but he needed to regroup.
Naomi had seemed agitated again and he didn’t know what caused it. She hadn’t been that way for years. No matter what he said or how he tried to engage her, she’d kept wringing her hands together and asking for her parents and Dean.
How could he tell her they were all gone? Their parents had died in a skiing accident in Europe about eight months before the car accident that took Dean. So much tragedy in her life and he’d caused a major part of it.
Brett parked his car and headed toward his front door.
“I was beginning to get worried.”
The clatter of his keys falling to the pavement confirmed he hadn’t imagined the voice. A look at the front porch showed Cassandra sat in one of the two deck chairs placed there to take in the view of the park he lived across the road from.
“Cassandra? What are you doing here?”
She rose from the chair and walked toward him. “I came to make sure you were all right after you did your disappearing act last night.”
He then noticed the suitcase sitting on the ground by her chair. “You came straight from the airport?”
“Obviously. You checked out of the hotel without telling me or anyone else. You weren’t answering my calls or texts. What was I supposed to think?”
“That I needed some space?”
“If you weren’t a client, I’d write you off, but you are, so I can’t. On top of that, Dan is a friend of Frank’s, so I have my boss breathing down my neck to make sure I do a good job.”
A light pink hue highlighted her cheekbones and her eyes sparkled in anger. As inappropriate as it was, his flesh tightened and he fought the urge to pull her close and sample her lips again.
Insane, but oh so tempting. Do it.
Not this time. He wasn’t going to listen to that voice again.
“I’m sorry I worried you. As you can se
e, I’m fine so you can go home now.”
“Why were you at Spring Mountain Nursing Home?”
His blood chilled. How the heck did she know the name of the place?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He faked a yawn and stuck his key in the lock. “If you don’t mind, I’m really tired. All I want to do is have a shower and then grab some sleep.”
Brett hoped she’d take the hint and walk away. But this was Cassandra and after spending time with her, he knew if he didn’t ask her in, she wouldn’t leave.
“What are you hiding?”
He sighed and opened the door. “Do you want to come in?”
“Yes, thank you.” She turned to get her suitcase, but he beat her to it. Their fingers touched. They both froze as the usual electric current sizzled between them.
The need to connect with her was too much to ignore. Groaning, he reached out and cupped her face. His thumb traced her bottom lip. Without giving it further thought, he leaned in and kissed her, completely forgetting they stood on his front porch in front of anyone who could be looking out their window or walking down the street.
He didn’t know what it was about Cassandra that made him want to treat her like spun glass. Instinctively, he knew she would hate that. She was an independent woman who had a career, and from what he’d observed, one she enjoyed.
Her sigh whispered through him. He adjusted his stance so he could slip his arms around her, tightening his hold. Their mouths moved slowly together, in perfect harmony. Warmth from the kiss chased away the chill that had enveloped him since he’d landed in Colorado—and it wasn’t from the cooler temperature. The coolness was from his overwhelming sense of loneliness.
The sound of a distant police siren pierced his consciousness. Reluctantly, he ended the kiss and rested his forehead against hers.
Cassandra pulled out of his hold. “You have got to stop kissing me.”
No, he didn’t think that would happen anytime soon. The more he kissed her, the more he wanted to keep doing it. “Why? You respond to me, Cass. You enjoy kissing me as much as I like kissing you.”
Her cheeks flushed an even deeper pink, telling him he’d scored a point with his remarks. “It doesn’t matter if I enjoy it or not. It’s not appropriate for me to be kissing a client.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t.” Shit. Why’d I say that out loud? If he was trying to prove he was taking things seriously, this wasn’t the way to show Cassandra that.
“I can’t believe you just said that.” Her voicing his exact thoughts didn’t make him feel any better.
“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair, tired and frustrated. He wanted to start the last couple of days over again. They were still standing on his front porch. It wasn’t the place to be having this type of conversation. “Look, I’m sorry. Come inside and we can talk. Please.”
Talking wasn’t what he wanted to do. He didn’t want to face the questions he knew were coming his way. All he knew was, he needed to make sure he protected Naomi. Whatever the cost.
15
“So, Spring Mountain Nursing Home, huh? Not a place I would’ve pegged you to visit on a Sunday.”
Since they’d walked into Brett’s house fifteen minutes ago, he’d done just about everything possible to avoid sitting down and talking to her. If she was honest with herself, she’d much rather be curled up on her own couch, decompressing after a stressful few days, before attempting to prepare for even more stress filled days.
“I’m not familiar with the nursing home.”
Oh, he so did not just do that. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t lie to me, Brett.”
“Why do you think I’m lying?”
This was going to be tricky. What she’d done wasn’t unethical and she’d done it with previous clients. The difference between then and now had been, she’d told the clients what she planned on doing. She hadn’t mentioned it to Brett. “Well, you see, I installed an app on your phone at one of our planning meetings, and connected it to my phone so we can both see where the other one is.”
Brett shot out from the chair he was sitting in and turned his eyes onto her. They resembled ice chips. “I don’t think I heard you correctly. You did what exactly?”
Cassandra sighed. She deserved his anger. “You heard me.”
“I can’t believe you did that. Isn’t that an invasion of privacy or something?”
“I suppose it is, but it’s something I do with all my clients. I can see where they are and they can see where I am. It’s helped a couple times when clients have found themselves lost or caught in a compromising position. Or if I’m running late, they were able to see how far away I was. Plus our contract states that we can do whatever means necessary to ensure the safety and wellbeing of our clients.
His hands clenched and unclenched at his side. “I don’t like it,” he ground out. “I want you to remove it from my phone, now. Once you’ve done that, you can see yourself the hell out. I don’t owe you any explanations. My private life is that—private.”
He went to walk away, but she got up and moved quickly, reaching out to grab his arm.
“That’s where you’re wrong. Your private life is plastered all over the press. It’s not me who’s done that—it’s you. You’re the one who’s done a bang-up job of getting your every move reported in the press. Plus, you left without a word last night. You weren’t answering my calls or my texts. What the hell was I supposed to think?”
“That I’m a grown ass man who can look after myself?”
“If you didn’t have your track record, I might believe that. But given your tendency to attract trouble, I’d prefer to keep tabs on you.”
Cassandra was pretty sure that if she were a man she’d be lying flat on her back. The anger radiated out from Brett like the heat blast from an explosion. His hands curled into fists again.
“What about the past few weeks? Haven’t I proven that you can trust me to do the right thing? I haven’t let you down at all.”
“No, up until last night, you hadn’t. What I think last night told me was, you’re a man who’s running from something. And I’m pretty sure where you were this morning is a big part of what you’re running from.”
His shoulders dropped as though the tension had been released out of him like air escaping a tire. In that moment, she knew she’d hit her mark. The question was, would he share with her what he was running from or would he keep running?
Out on the porch when he’d kissed her, she’d sensed his desperation. His need to connect with someone. Slowly, she was beginning to understand Brett was more complex than the bad boy persona he showed the world. He was someone who’d seen or experienced pain, and that pain had defined the path he now walked down.
"Talk to me, Brett."
"I don't have anything more to say to you."
His tone might suggest he was done talking to her. The desolate look in his eyes suggested differently.
Knowing what she was about to do was going to cross that professional line she'd told him not half an ago they couldn't cross. Cassandra walked over to where he stood, resolute like a brick wall.
She laid a hand on his cheek, the flesh jumping beneath her fingertips. "I think there’s a lot you need to talk about, but don't want to. It may help you if you do. A problem shared is a problem halved, so they say."
For a moment, she thought she’d penetrated his steely resolve. But then he turned away.
“There’s nothing I need to talk about. And if I did, I’d think twice about sharing it with you.”
Cassandra inwardly flinched at his words, his lack of trust cutting deep. As though she’d been slapped, it hit her why he didn’t want to talk to her. Her job was to improve his image. Which mean using everything at her fingertips to show the public Brett had changed. Even the show he was participating in was all about showing a different side to him. A side the public could relate to. No wonder he didn’t want to share anything personal with her. Not
that she didn’t know pretty much everything about him. His agent had provided her with a comprehensive file about the life and times of Brett Hunter. What else could be in his past that he didn’t want to share? Whatever it was, she had to convince him that if he shared it with her, she wouldn’t say a word or use it to her advantage.
“I want you to know that you can trust me with whatever you tell me.”
He scoffed. “Says the woman who loaded a tracking app on my phone. Forgive me if I don’t quite believe you. I also know the moment the shit hits the fan, you’ll pull out anything to make it better.”
“Are you telling me things are going to get bad again? Do you have something planned that’s going to undo everything you’ve achieved over the last few weeks?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
“Nothing. I’m worried about nothing.”
This back and forth volleying was annoying. Today was a day she wasn’t going to get any answers, but she would. And soon. “Fine. I get the message.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Finally.”
Exhaustion from a sleepless night and catching an early flight caught up with her. Not to mention the worry about if Brett was okay. She sank down on the couch. “I’d love some coffee if the offer of a drink still stands.”
If her complete about face surprised him, Brett didn’t show it. “Yeah, I think I can come up with some coffee.”
He left the room and Cassandra let out a breath. She may not have gotten to the bottom of what Brett had been doing at that nursing facility today, but she would. Whoever or whatever that place held was the key to Brett and the way he acted. She cared about him and, if he could let her in, she’d be able to help him. No matter how much he resisted her, she had to try.
Fighting for Redemption (The Elite Book 4) Page 8