“Okay, you win. But you’re all mine later.” He finished off his declaration with a quick kiss.
All of her wished to the universe that after their talk, he would still feel that way.
Forty five minutes later Cassandra pushed her plate away. The lasagna had tasted as good at it looked, even with the burned edges. Turned out, Brett liked the extra crispy bits. They kept the conversation over dinner to random topics. But the original purpose for the evening could no longer be avoided.
“How about we take our wine into the living room?” she suggested.
“I was wondering when you were going to bring up why I’m here. Why didn’t we talk about it while we ate?”
Because I wanted to be able to imprint as much of the evening as I could into my mind. Because deep in my gut, I know what I’m about to say is going to hurt you and I don’t want to hurt you at all.
No, not the thing she could say. Her little inner monologue had highlighted the truth she’d been trying hard to deny—she was falling more and more under the spell called Brett Hunter. It was dangerous for not only herself but also her career. The man sitting opposite her had weaved his way into her bloodstream.
“It seemed easier to eat and then talk.”
As he studied her, Cassandra hoped her face wasn’t giving away her thoughts. “Fair enough.”
With a nod, she stood and picked up her wine glass. “Let’s go sit.”
Brett stood but looked at the table and the remnants of their meal. “What about the dishes?”
“They’re fine.”
It would give her something to do when Brett walked out. Why was she so sure after they had this conversation that everything between her and Brett would go to hell in a hand basket? There could be a totally innocent reason as to why Brett made weekly visits to a nursing facility. Something she’d told herself many times before.
God, she was tired of going around in circles about it. She should’ve pressed him when she first found out about it.
She sat on her couch, smiling when Brett sat next to her and pulled her in close. Being close to him was going to make concentrating on the task at hand that much more difficult. The thought of putting distance between them didn’t appeal, either. Instead, she let his warmth seep into her.
“So, Ms. Fielder, you’ve got my complete attention.”
Focusing on a point above her television set, she took a sip of her wine and started. “I got a call today from Frank. He said he’d received an anonymous tip from an employee of Spring Mountain Nursing Home that you visit the facility every Sunday. This person also said the only times you don’t visit is when you’re away competing.”
The longer she spoke, the tenser Brett got beside her. Perhaps sitting next to him was a good idea. Being this close she could feel everything his body did. While the words that came out of his mouth may not be the truth, his natural reactions couldn’t be hidden.
“So? He doesn’t need to know everything that I do.”
“Who’s there, Brett? Who are you protecting?”
He pulled away from her and she grabbed the edge of the couch to stop from falling on her side. She straightened and turned so she could look at him.
“I repeat. Frank and his company don’t need to know everything that I do.”
Cassandra had expected it would be difficult to get Brett to talk to her about his visits. But she’d hoped, perhaps naively, that after what they’d shared earlier in the evening, he’d be more willing to open up to her.
“Brett.” She reached out and touched his knee. “If you don’t tell me, I can guarantee you Frank will find out some other way. If you tell me, I can control how the information is used. I’ve known about you visiting the facility. I asked you about it and you didn’t say anything to me. I respected that and didn’t push you. But now it’s out there. Tell me, please.”
Brett stood and started pacing around her living room. His agitation reached out to her like an electric charge. He stopped by the window and jammed his hands into his jeans pocket. From where she sat, she could see the tenseness in his shoulders, and the way they hunched in slightly as though he was attempting to protect himself.
Whoever was in that facility was extremely important to him. She felt it in her bones and she couldn’t help the sharp, irrational pain of jealousy stabbing her. Irrational because her immediate thoughts had gone to him protecting a woman by his silence. Maybe she was his first love. Hell, she’d been married, so she had no right to these green-eyed monster feelings over a possible first love of Brett’s.
“If I tell you, how can I be sure you won’t use it against me?”
“Because I didn’t tell Frank today when he phoned that I already knew about your visits.”
She let him absorb the words, praying and hoping that he would accept what she’d said as the truth. Whatever Brett told her tonight, she would find a way to let Frank know what he needed to know without telling him the whole truth. It was a risk to her career, but then again, sleeping with Brett had already put her job in jeopardy, if anyone found out about it.
Cassandra walked over to where he stood and kissed his bare shoulder, wishing with all her heart he could tell how much she cared for him.
“Come on, Brett, come and sit down again. Talk to me.”
He nodded and reached for her fingers. She led him over to the couch and they sat. This time, though, he didn’t pull her close, but she took solace in the fact he didn’t let go of her hand.
“Apart from telling Dan, I haven’t told anyone this part of my life. Her name is Naomi and she’s the sister of my best friend. Or should I say was the sister of my best friend. Dean died in a car accident. An accident that was my fault.”
Whatever she’d been expecting him to say, this wasn’t it. In all the background information she had, and what she’d learned from her own research, there had been no mention of a car accident. How was that even possible in this day and age of technology and the internet, when the whole world knew if you’d sneezed the wrong way?
“Why is she in a home? Where are her parents? When was the accident? What happened?”
Man, could she sound even more like a reporter? The last thing he needed was her throwing so many questions at him. She needed to stop and let Brett tell his story. In his own words. In his own time.
“Sorry, Brett. Ignore my questions.”
His thumb brushed over her palm. “No, it’s fine. Your questions are valid. If our roles were reversed, I’d do the same, I’m sure.”
Cassandra doubted that. As a general rule, men didn’t seem to be as inquisitive as women when someone was trying to tell them a story.
“Take your time. Whenever you’re ready.”
Silence stretched between them, and for a while she wondered if he would actually tell her the story or he’d told her all he planned to.
“We were young and figured we were untouchable. What you always think when you’re eighteen and the world is laid out in front of you. But one action. One single action can change your world in a way you’d never thought possible. That’s what happened to me that night in September seven years ago. A simple mistake and the lives of three people were changed.”
Cassandra’s heart cracked at the emotion in Brett’s voice. She almost didn’t want him to continue. Unfortunately, she didn’t have that choice. She’d asked for his story, so she had to listen. No matter how hard it could end up being. Reaching out, she squeezed his hand quickly, in silent support, encouraging him to continue.
“It was a Friday night. Dean, Naomi and I had been to a high school football game. Dean and I were talking about how the football guys would never last doing a 400-meter swim because they were always resting in between plays. Naomi was telling us we were dreaming and that footballers were stronger than swimmers. It was harmless fun. I looked away from the road for half a second. I can’t even remember why.”
Brett paused and she held her breath, waiting to hear what happened next. He dug his
fingers into his legs. It had to hurt, but he seemed oblivious to his action. Cassandra knew covering her hand with his, this time, wouldn’t help at all.
A breath shuddered out of him and he continued. “Then I heard Naomi scream my name. When I looked back there was a big deer on the road. I hit the brakes and turned the wheel. I was too late, though. I hit the deer and we went off on the shoulder. The car slammed into an embankment and rolled a couple of times. I lost consciousness for a few minutes. I remember waking to this hiss of the engine, Naomi moaning in the back seat. I looked over to Dean.” His voice cracked and tears silently tracked down his cheeks. “His eyes were open, but they were dull. His eyes never looked dull before. I knew then that I’d killed my best friend.”
His shoulders shook and Cassandra wrapped him up in her arms. Saying nothing, just holding him in an attempt to ease the pain, but knowing it wouldn’t help. Brett was wrapped up in his own personal hell. All she could do was sit beside him and give him her silent support.
He took a deep breath and she released her hold on him. “The next time I woke up, I was in the hospital with a severe concussion and some cuts and bruises. Naomi was in a coma. Because of my mistake, I’d killed my friend and basically ruined the life of his sister.”
“Oh, Brett, I’m so sorry.” She swallowed the rest of the words she wanted to say. How what happened was an accident and that even if he had been watching the road, the chances of him stopping before hitting the deer would’ve been slim. Instinctively, she knew those words weren’t what he would want to hear. Instead she asked. “What happened to Naomi?”
“Naomi is stuck in her own personal hell. When she finally woke up, she had no recollection of anything after her ninth birthday. In one fell swoop, I’d erased seven years of her life. Permanent brain damage, the doctors said, with no hope of her ever being able to look after herself properly.”
“What about her parents? How often do they see her?”
“They don’t.”
“Why not?”
“They’re dead, too.”
Holy hell, she hadn’t been expecting that. Poor Naomi. No wonder Brett made an effort to go see her as often as he did. Although it couldn’t be easy for him.
“How long had you been friends with Dean for?” Then she asked the questions that were rattling around in her brain. “How is it possible that the story of your accident isn’t in any news archives? Aren’t all fatal accidents investigated?”
How had this been kept so quiet and why?
20
Even though he’d sworn he’d never let himself think a long-term relationship with a woman was in his future, now he was thinking how wrong and short-sighted he’d been. Nor did he imagine telling that person about Naomi, and the reason she resided in a home. The fact, in his mind, he was referring to Cassandra as long-term shocked the hell out of him. But he couldn’t deny the truth of the words.
In the months since Rio, the last thing he’d ever thought he’d do was fall in love. But that’s exactly what had happened. Cassandra was the polar opposite of the women he usually slept with. She had a career. She wasn’t the type to fawn over him. From the little she’d told him, she’d been married, something he needed to find out more about.
It would be so easy to start questioning her about her past relationship. Anything to get the spotlight off him. But he knew he couldn’t, not if he wanted to go forward and consider having a future with the woman sitting beside him, if she even wanted to consider a relationship with him. He needed to be nothing but honest with her, which meant continuing to talk about the darkest event in his life. No matter how much it hurt.
“Dean and I first met when we started swimming lessons when we were seven. At the time of the accident, I’d known him most of my life. We shared everything.” He closed his eyes and tried to bring up Dean’s face in his mind. So many years had passed and it was getting harder and harder to remember what he looked like. “As for an investigation, yes, there was one. I was cleared of any wrong doing. The dead deer on the road was a pretty good indicator of what had happened. And the reason it was kept out of the press was because of the size of the town I lived in. We didn’t even have a newspaper because everyone knew everyone and there was never a need for one. You could go down to the diner and hear all the news you wanted. The closest town to us had a newspaper, but they didn’t report on the accident because there had been a major incident at one of their big manufacturing facilities that day. All their focus was on that story.”
“I guess it’s lucky there was no coverage about it. It would’ve been brought up over and over otherwise.”
“I should be happy there was no press. But it still doesn’t make me feel any less guilty. It’s like it’s the town’s dirty little secret. My lapse in concentration changed the fate of one family. Do you know how hard it is to live with that? To wake up every day knowing that I can do whatever I want. Follow my dreams, when Dean and Naomi can’t.”
And that’s what cut the most—Dean had wanted to be an Olympian more than Brett had. Naomi had wanted to be an animator. Work at one of the film companies, specializing in animated movies. Brett knew she would’ve made it, too. Her drawing skills at sixteen had been amazing.
“I don’t think your old hometown thinks it’s a dirty little secret. I think they’re probably proud of your achievements.”
“Which achievements are you talking about?” he scoffed. “Having the worst Olympics ever? Not swimming to my potential? Creating scandal after scandal? Yeah, I have so many things to boast about.”
“Survivor’s guilt is one of the hardest things to deal with. It makes you do things you would never normally do. Have you considered that’s why you act the way you do? Why you do things that will paint you in a bad light?”
She came at him with the truths he’d buried deep and never truly acknowledged, except on occasions, and then he was so ashamed of what he was doing, he ignored it, and went back to the bad behavior.
Now, answering her questions, acknowledging that she was spot on with her observations…he wasn’t ready for that.
As if she knew she’d hit a nerve, Cassandra rubbed her hand up and down his arm, the action soothing his frazzled thoughts.
God, how he hated talking about that night. Every word cut deep, like a knife sliced right through his soul.
He couldn’t do anything except shrug in answer to her questions.
“Have you spoken to someone about it? Did you have counseling after the accident?” she persisted.
Brett went to move off the couch, agitation biting at him to start moving. Cassandra halted his escape attempt by placing her other hand on his jean-clad leg.
He sighed, the flight instinct leeching out of him. “Yeah, I had some. My parents made me to go. But talking about it isn’t going to bring Dean back or return Naomi’s life to her.”
“No, you’re right. It won’t change what happened, but it could help you move forward. The person I see sitting in front of me is not the person you’ve shown to the public. Even on the show, you don’t wear the arrogant-I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-you-think-of-me-Brett-Hunter mask you wore in Rio and after Rio. Aren’t you tired of being two people?”
Damn, she was good.
How could she see what even his parents hadn’t seen? It was time to face the truth.
“Yes,” he whispered the admission. “Yes, but in my mind, I don’t deserve the good things in life.”
In a rustle of fabric and movement, Cassandra moved so she straddled him. He grabbed her hips as her hands cupped his face. “Oh, Brett, yes, you do. You do deserve the good things life has to offer. You’re not a bad person. If you were, you wouldn’t go see Naomi every Sunday like you do. You wouldn’t do whatever is possible to keep the press from knowing about her and intruding on her life. Can’t you see that?”
“She’s my best friend’s little sister. I would do anything for her. I never meant to hurt her. Who knows what might have happened between us. I had
a crush on her before the accident. I think she only saw me as another annoying brother. That’s why, when they buried Dean, I made a promise to myself, and to him, that I would look after her. That I wouldn’t let anything hurt her ever again. I would protect her with my life.”
“And you are. You’re doing everything you promised. But I don’t think Dean would’ve wanted you to sabotage your own life. You need to stop punishing yourself, Brett.” She kissed his forehead, an innocent gesture. “And there’s no shame in asking for help.”
Brett pulled her close and buried his face in the warm softness of her neck. As much as he wanted to rail against what she was telling him, he knew it was the truth. Hadn’t he already been getting tired of making headlines before he started working with Cassandra? Perhaps being dumped by Powerz was meant to be. In all the time he’d been their client, they hadn’t done very much to try to get him to improve his image. Then again, he probably wouldn’t have been open to it at the time.
“Maybe.”
“You can trust me with this, Brett. I won’t tell Frank the reason behind your visits.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I’ll work something out. Trust me. I won’t hurt you or Naomi. You have my word.”
While he wanted to believe it would be possible for the truth not to come out, he wasn’t holding out hope that Frank wouldn’t pry the information out of her. No matter how confident she sounded that she could keep his biggest secret away from Frank, out of the press and off the internet.
“Let’s not talk anymore,” he said. All he wanted to do was lose himself in Cassandra, and find the bliss he’d found there a couple of hours ago.
Tomorrow he could look at taking the necessary steps to deal with his past.
Cassandra was right. It was time to start healing.
21
Normally, walking into Frank’s office was easy for Cassandra. The only time it had been an issue was when Frank had told her she would be working with Brett. Who could’ve known how that meeting would change her life?
Fighting for Redemption (The Elite Book 4) Page 11