“Jane,” she says, extending a hand.
I stand to shake it. “I’m Brynn.”
“Would you mind if I sit?” She gestures to Connor’s vacant seat. “I’ve been on my feet all day.”
“Please,” I say quickly, grabbing Connor’s empty muffin wrapper and putting it in the bag.
She sits down, exhaling softly. “I love this place, but by the end of the day I’m exhausted.”
Last year a statement like that would’ve meant something obscure to me, but after working with Connor, I empathize. I understand the feeling of exhaustion felt everywhere, even in your fingertips, after using your body all day long. Glancing out the window to Connor, I tell her I understand that feeling.
“Is he your boyfriend?”
I look back to Jane and see she’s looking at Connor too.
“Uh, no.” I shift in my seat, crossing one ankle over the other. “He’s a… friend.”
She chuckles softly. “Sounds complicated.”
“I wasn’t expecting to meet him.” The admittance feels good. “I had other plans.”
Something flits across her face, an emotion I can’t see long enough to name. One slender finger rubs the base of her empty ring finger on her left hand. It looks like an absent-minded action, something the body does when the mind recalls a specific memory.
“That’s the way it goes sometimes.” She drags her gaze away from Connor and back to me. “Are you from here?”
I shake my head. “Phoenix. I’m staying in Brighton currently.”
That look comes onto her face again, but this time it stays. Nostalgia. Remembrance. Regret. All wrapped up in one tormented expression. Before I can ask her if she’s okay, she opens her mouth. “Brynn, I don’t have anybody to give advice to, so I’m going to give it to you. Is that okay?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t let your plan limit you. Plans can make you short-sighted. They don’t take into account the wonderful, beautiful, messy parts of life, and you’ll end up missing them. Blind devotion to a plan can lead to regret, and regret can choke the life out of you.”
“You’re speaking from experience.”
Jane swallows and averts her eyes. “Some regrets are forgotten over time. Others, well, they last a whole lifetime.” The bell chimes and Jane looks up. “Your friend is back.” She stands and smiles at Connor, but it’s a shaky smile. Nothing like the warmth she exuded when she first approached me. “Hello,” she says to him and walks behind the counter.
He responds to Jane and sits down. Worry creases his forehead.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“My dad’s appointment was fine. Nothing new. But”—Connor pauses, the corners of his lips turning down—“my mom told me someone stopped by a few minutes ago, looking for me. I wasn’t at home, so she went to find me at my parents’ house.”
“She?” My voice is cool, even though my insides feel hot. Connor isn’t mine. I’m his employee, and we’re fucking. I have no business feeling territorial.
“Desiree. My ex.”
Cue the fake smile. False happy head nod. “She probably realized what a mistake she made. I certainly would if I was your ex.”
Pushing back from the table, I stand and gather my trash. “Ready?” I ask, locating a trash can and depositing the empty coffee and muffin wrapper.
I don’t want to talk any more about Desiree. Jane might be right, some plans are limiting, but not this one. If Connor’s ex wants him back, I should bow out. Maybe this is a sign I need to hop back onto my path.
Connor tosses his containers in the trash and strides over to where I stand beside the door. His mouth is set in an unhappy line. The drive home will be a lot less fun than the drive here.
“Brynn?” Jane calls from behind the counter, making Connor and I both look over. “You said you’re from Phoenix. I know this is a long shot, but you wouldn’t happen to know someone named Aubrey Reynolds, would you?”
“No.” I shake my head.
I did know an Aubrey Cordova. She wrote the insurance policy for my parents’ fishing business. I handled it for them because they were out of the country. She was professional and jaw-droppingly gorgeous. At the time I thought she would’ve made a great club promoter if she weren’t so buttoned-up, although I wouldn’t recommend that job to anybody now.
“Sorry,” I add when I see my answer has disappointed Jane. That name must have something to do with her advice to me.
“It’s okay. Good luck,” she waves.
“You’re very different from the person I thought you were when we first met,” Connor says quietly on our walk back to his truck. He opens the door for me and I climb in, sitting sideways and letting my feet dangle.
“Maybe you should be open to Desiree, Connor.”
His jaw flexes, tense again. “And why is that?”
“My basket is flimsy. Don’t put your heart into it.”
“I thought that saying was about eggs.”
“Whatever the content of the basket, it has the same ending. Splat.” My hands slice sideways through the air.
He reaches up, gripping the top of the doorframe, and leans in so we’re less than a foot apart. I can’t help but stare at him as his shirt rides up, his arms and muscles flexing with the grip of his fingers. “Sometimes, with you, it’s like I’m in combat.”
Despite the seriousness of our conversation, I grin. “Be careful, I fight with a baseball bat.”
“Until I have you on your back, and then you mewl like a cat.” Connor winks. “I’m done rhyming. Kiss me and don’t tell me to be open to anyone else again.”
“Connor…”
“Do as I say for once, Brynn.”
Fuck it. For now, anyway.
I reach up. His cheeks are rough with tiny, stiff hairs, and I love the tingle it puts on my palms. I know I shouldn’t let Connor have his way, but I can’t help it. His lips are soft against mine, and he gives just as much as he takes. I thought the blueberry muffins were the best taste in the world, but I was wrong.
The sweetness of their aftertaste on Connor’s tongue is even better.
18
Connor
The old man’s words sit in the back of my mind every damn day. Ignoring them is nearly impossible. They lurk like a creepy shadow, hovering over every thought.
Might be best to let her go then.
I can’t think of Brynn or the future without the approaching darkness of his words.
Walt wants to protect Brynn, I get that, but I want to protect her too. I don’t want her to make a choice that will haunt us. Somehow, someway, I’m going to find a way out of this for her.
The thing is, I’m not the only person Brynn is getting close to. Walt is attached to her. She turned his human equivalent of a growl into a whisper. Before Brynn’s arrival, I would’ve filed the chances of that ever happening under No Fucking Way.
Julia likes her too. Brynn has a natural ability to make people happy. She’s likable, she relates to people on their level. She’s not the ice queen I thought she was. She’s still hot, but she’s definitely not a robot.
Brynn’s with Julia now, helping her execute the plan to make the Fourth of July parade a big deal. This afternoon I have my meeting with Candace, the person in charge of taking the empty space on Main and making it into an art gallery. She’s coming to my house to see my work, and I’ve been trying to set up everything the way I want her to see it. When Brynn left this morning, she suggested the big windows in my detached garage might make for good lighting, and when I looked out there, I saw what she meant. Big windows run down both sides of the walls, making for a bright space. I spent most of the morning cleaning up the room, and I’ve just finished moving in all the paintings.
It’s warm today, despite the heat wave breaking, and my sweat has soaked through my shirt. The garage door is open while I arrange everything. Old country music filters through my work area. My mom has a thing for Patsy Cline, and although I refuse to admit
it out loud, so do I. “Crazy” plays loudly from my open laptop as I stand back and survey the painting I hung a moment ago.
Hands snake around my waist, startling me, but the feeling goes away quickly. “That was fast,” I say, turning around to kiss Brynn.
But it’s not Brynn.
“What the hell?” I shout into Desiree’s face. Everything in her expression looks smug. The set of her mouth, the shine in her eyes, the rise of her cheekbones.
“Surprise,” she says, her voice seductive. There was a time when that voice could melt me, but that time is long gone. And dead.
Her arms tighten, as though she’s going to pull me closer. I put my hands around hers and push them off my hips, taking a step back. “What do you want?”
She pouts. “You’re not happy to see me?”
I say nothing. There is no part of me that wants this person to be here.
“Aw, come on, Connor.” She steps closer and traces her fingertips over my stomach. “Do you like my hair? I grew it out, just like you wanted me to.”
“I think you need to find a dictionary and look up what the term broken up means.” I swat her hand away. I’m curious to know why she’s back, but I don’t want to ask. More than anything, I’d like to know when she’s leaving again. Maybe I can buy her a one-way ticket.
“Don’t be mad at me, Connor. I’ve missed you.” She blinks up at me, trying her best to look innocent. “Maybe I can make it up to you?”
Behind Desiree, a car pulls into my driveway. Shit.
Julia and Brynn peer through the windshield, the same confused look on their faces. Julia knows Candace, so she knows this isn’t her. She says something to Brynn, and Brynn nods slowly. Desiree turns around, glaring at the car, and then the worst thing happens. Julia starts to back out.
Hurrying around Desiree, I jog out to where the car was parked and wave my arms. “Stop,” I say, but Julia ignores me, and Brynn? She smiles. She fucking smiles. It’s a disappointed, reluctant grin, and I hear the words hidden underneath. Be open to Desiree. It’s okay. This was temporary, right?
The car moves farther down the street, then turns and disappears.
“Fuck,” I yell, my hands fisted at my sides. “You.” I point at the she-devil still standing in my garage. “Leave. Now.”
Desiree stalks out in her tall heels and tight skirt. Her dumb clothes only make me want Brynn’s snarky T-shirts more. She stops when she gets close to me. “If she wanted you, she would’ve stayed to fight for you. Keep that in mind.”
“Fuck off, Desiree. Don’t come back here.”
She strides down the driveway and to her car, pausing at her open car door. “Ball’s in your court. You know where to find me.”
Hurrying inside, I grab my phone and call Brynn. It goes to voicemail. No surprise there. Candace will be here soon, so I can’t go after her, but the second Candace is gone, I’m out of here like my ass is on fire. Brynn doesn’t need any more nudging in the direction of that beach in South America, and Desiree may have just given her the shove she needed to skip town.
There aren’t too many places she could be. She doesn’t have a car. I’ve already tried her house. Wherever she is has to be within walking distance, unless Julia took her somewhere. Anthony could help me figure that out, but I’d rather not bring him into my drama.
“Come on, Brynn,” I mutter, circling the same route for what feels like the hundredth time. She’s not downtown, that I can tell. I parked and walked all through the busiest areas, looking for her. I went into the places I know she likes to eat, I walked through the grocery store, I checked the library. Nothing. That leaves me with one more choice.
I slow to a stop and get out. I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t my last option.
I climb the steps and knock on the door, remembering what Brynn said about how he watches everything from his front window. If that’s true, it means he has noticed each passing of my truck, and he knows I’m here right now.
Finally, he answers the door. “What do you want?” he growls. Any progress I made with him last weekend is gone, but that tells me Brynn is here now, or was here at some point.
“Is Brynn here?”
“No,” he says, curt. “Anything else?”
“When was she here?”
“She left twenty minutes ago, after the last time we saw your truck pass.”
“Which direction did she go?”
“I’m not telling you that.”
I squeeze my eyes and try not to give in to my desire to say something rude.
“I guess I should thank you, boy. You reminded her that she needs to put her well-being first. You were holding her back, and now she can focus on what she came here to do.”
I’m over this conversation. Arguing with this loon isn’t getting me anywhere closer to finding Brynn. Without saying anything else, I walk back to my truck. It’s late and the sun is setting. Brynn wouldn’t go anywhere at night. She’s too afraid.
Turning the truck around, I drive down the street and into Brynn’s driveway. I know Walt is watching from his post at the window, so I send a one-fingered wave his direction. My mom would try to put me over her knee for that, but right now I don’t care. Walt doesn’t have the market cornered on asshole behavior.
“Brynn,” I shout, knocking on her door. “I know you’re there, so don’t act like you’re not.”
The door opens. She looks at me like she’s perfectly fine. There are no tears, no wavering lips. The waters of her eyes are calm.
“What’s up?” she asks. Her voice is fine too. Chirpy, even.
“I’ve been blowing up your phone. Why aren’t you answering?”
“I put it on silent when I left your house.”
“Listen, I’m sorry about that. Nothing was going on and—”
“Connor, I know nothing was going on. You were standing in your open garage.”
“Then why are you upset?”
“I’m not upset.”
“What are you then? I was just at Walt’s looking for you, and the way he acted made it seem like you were out for my blood.”
She rolls her eyes. “He’s melodramatic, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Can I come in? Can we talk?” My weight shifts forward automatically, like my request will be accepted.
“I don’t think so. Seeing you with her was good for me. I needed to remember why I came here. You don’t need to be caught up in my mess.”
“I want to be in your mess.” Leaning my palm on the door frame, I settle in for a fight.
“Don’t say that. Nobody wants to be in my mess.”
“That’s what people who care about each other do. They sit in the muck together, until they can stand and get out of it.”
“No, Connor. I’m sorry. You and I can’t go any further. I got caught up and shouldn’t have allowed it in the first place. Please accept this as my immediate and official resignation. Personally, and professionally.”
Her hands clasp together in front of her and her face is passive. No expression whatsoever. On my face, there is a lot of expression. I feel the opening of my mouth, the shock of my pulled-together eyebrows.
“Brynn, you can’t be serious. Do you remember last night? You slept in my arms.”
She nods. “That was nice. Thank you for giving me companionship.”
“But… but…” I hate how I sound. I hate how I look. How can I salvage this? It doesn’t help that the longer I stand here, the angrier I feel. “Companionship? That’s what this was?” I’m working to keep my voice down, but it’s tough. “No, Brynn. No. You’re lying right now. To yourself. Your eyes have been telling a different story since our first kiss.”
Finally, fucking finally, her facade breaks down. She steps back into her house and I follow her in. She slams the door shut and turns to me, her finger pointing my direction. “You weren’t supposed to happen.”
“I’m not going to apologize for that. I didn’t expect someone to step in fro
nt of my truck while it was moving, but guess what? Someone did.”
“Stop. Just stop. Let it go.” Her hands move to her heart. “Let me go.”
“No, Brynn. You’re not deciding this for the both of us.”
“My mom emailed me this morning. They’re depositing money into my account next Friday. I can go away, Connor.” She looks sad, so sad. Her hand is at her heart, as if she’s holding it in. “You can move on. We always knew this was coming.”
I slam a fist into my open palm, the loud smacking sound bouncing through the tiny entryway. “Fight, Brynn. Fight for us. Fight against him. Don’t let him win.”
“This isn’t about only that.” Her voice wavers.
“You’re punishing yourself and you don’t need to. You. Weren’t. At. Fault.”
“I am at fault!” Brynn screams, tears pouring from her eyes.
“Brynn, no.”
“Yes, Connor. Yes. I saw her that day. Amy Prince. I was in a bookstore that morning, and she was there too. I didn’t speak to her, but I saw her. She was fearful and agitated. She needed help. Her baby cried, and she stared at it like it was this unbelievable thing. It cried and cried. She did nothing to help it.”
Brynn hands run through her hair, pulling it up in handfuls, then she drops it.
“I saw someone who needed help, and I didn’t give it. I walked away.” She wipes away tears with the back of her hand. “I got a cup of coffee and picked out two books, bought them, and left. She was standing on the sidewalk, and I had no idea she was going to step in front of my car, but the first time I saw her, I knew she needed help. If I made the right choice the first time, Amy Prince and her baby could still be alive.”
My heart twists. For Brynn’s pain, her guilt, and her shame. What happened was not her fault, and yet she can’t escape the feeling that it was. It’s utterly heartbreaking, but I see it now. I see her need to run. Eric Prince isn’t the only demon chasing her. Even worse, I don’t think I can help her.
“Come here.” I grab her shaking hands, but she stiffens, not allowing me to pull her in.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” she whispers, looking down at the floor.
The Lifetime of A Second Page 15