All Wrapped Up (A Pine Mountain Novel)

by Kimberly Kincaid

  Brennan nodded, and Teagan gave his forearm a comforting squeeze before heading downstairs to deal with the crowd. He stood in the hallway, digging for a solution and coming up woefully short.

  Teagan was right. His past was coming back to haunt him. Only this time, he could control it. He would control it.

  There was no alternative.

  Palming the handle to the office door, Brennan moved back inside the comfortably cluttered space. Ava sat against the bright cushions, watching carefully as he parked himself on the other end of the couch.

  “Hey. How are you doing?” Zero points for originality, but Brennan really did want to know, and anyway, he couldn’t exactly avoid being a point-A-to-point-B kind of guy.

  “Fine.” Ava slumped against the back of the couch just a little too much for the sentiment to stick, and something twisted deep in Brennan’s chest.

  “Yeah. I know that feeling.”

  “Really?” One dark eyebrow went up. “You’ve been knocked flat on your ass in front of all your colleagues recently?”

  A puff of humorless laughter escaped his lips. “In a manner of speaking. If it makes you feel any better, I’m certain Adrian wasn’t gentle about showing Trotter the door.”

  “I’m sure I’ll go to hell for this, but it kind of does. Guys like Mike Trotter make the rest of us look bad.” She paused, her tiny smile fading as she ghosted her fingers over the front of her shirt. “Anyway, I know you’re busy. I don’t want to keep you.”

  Brennan’s heart took a swipe at his rib cage, but damn it, he really had no choice. Tonight had come within inches of wrecking him, and things were only getting worse every time he said no comment.

  These reporters weren’t going to leave until he gave them a damn good reason to go, and that reason was sitting right in front of him.

  “I thought you wanted a story.”

  Ava’s eyes went perfectly round. “I thought you didn’t want to tell it.”

  Understatement of the freaking century. “Considering what just happened downstairs, it doesn’t look like I get much say. If I give you the story, the rest of those reporters will go away, right?”

  “It depends,” Ava said, and he had to hand it to her. She was treading just as carefully as he was. “Reporters won’t infringe on each other under certain circumstances. If you really want them to back off, you’d have to offer me the story as an exclusive.”

  “You’d have to make me a few promises,” Brennan countered. The resulting flash of steel-tipped determination in her eyes jabbed at his resolve, but he turned toward her in an effort to hammer the words into place. “They’re not negotiable.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’ll tell you—and only you—what happened the other day at Joe’s. But no printing the boy’s name, no sensationalizing what really happened, and absolutely no questions about anything occurring before this week. This story is the only one on the table. Take it or leave it.”

  She slid forward, close enough for their knees to touch. “Agreed on the boy’s name. As far as the rescue at the grocery store goes, the truth is already pretty sensational. I won’t downplay that just to please you, but I won’t turn it into the script for an action film, either. And regarding events occurring before this week . . . no guarantees.”

  Holy hell, she’d gotten tougher over the last seven years. And holy hell in a hand basket, it was sexy enough to ruin him right here on the couch. “I mean it, Ava. I’ll tell you everything that happened at Joe’s. But no questions about anything other than the fire.”

  “I mean it too, Nick. I want the story, but I won’t lie to you about what an exclusive like this entails. I can’t promise I’ll limit my questions to just the events of the other day, or that I won’t press you to answer all the questions that pertain to the story. If past events are part of it, they’re fair game.”

  Their conversation from earlier tonight streamed through his mind, stomping on his composure in one fluid stroke. A white hot thread of uncut intensity surged up from his chest, barging out of his mouth before he could hook it back.

  “Fine. You want the past on the table? We’ll trade. I’ll give you the exclusive, with free rein to print whatever you can find, both past and present. But if I’m dishing up a story, then so are you.”

  The slender ridge of her shoulders locked into place as she whispered, “What do you mean?”

  But Brennan didn’t budge. Damn it, after seven years, she could still wreck his composure with one sweet and sexy smile. As much as he hated it, he needed to know why she’d left, if only to finally move on, and the same sharp desire that had pressed the words out of his mouth earlier whipped back tenfold. “If you want me to talk, you’re going to have to go first. I want to know what happened seven years ago to put you on that ferry off Sapphire Island. I want to know why you left without a good-bye.”

  Unlike before, Ava didn’t even flinch. “If I tell you, will you give me the story on the fire?”

  He nodded, certain this was insane. But Christ, he wanted the other reporters gone, he wanted the truth—hell, seeing how headstrong and serious and totally fucking gorgeous she looked sitting there across from him, he wanted Ava too much to care. “I’ll give you the only story I’ve got, which is the one from this week. If you want anything else, that’s going to be up to you to find.”

  “Done,” she said, without even flinching. “When do you want to start?”

  Brennan stood to grab his jacket from the hook by the office door, equally unflinching even though his pulse was on mile twenty-three of an emotional marathon.

  “Well, since Teagan’s insistent you get a ride home and I get a break from the bar, I’d say there’s no time like the present.”

  Chapter Six

  “Okay, Mancuso. You can do this.”

  Ava repeated the whisper over and over, letting it melt in with her breath as she stood in the tiled alcove by the Double Shot’s back door. The bruise on her chest was already throbbing in time with her rapid-fire heartbeat beneath it, but the deep-seated ache was the least of her worries. As if being manhandled in front of half the town hadn’t been mortifying enough, Ava had been so stunned at the long-buried sensation of being knocked to the ground that she’d wheeled away from Nick’s touch as if he’d been on fire.

  And now she was going to have to explain everything else she’d buried seven years ago in order to get the story that would save her career. God, what had she been thinking when she’d slapped out that impulsive, ridiculous done in response to Nick’s crazy offer? It was bad enough that they had a romantic past—one she had artfully kept hidden from her boss. But now Ava had to trot out said past like a show pony on parade day, all while staying one million percent calm, cool, and professional, because news flash! Brennan wasn’t just her sexy, brooding ex-boyfriend. Now he was her source.

  Come on, girl. It’s time to toughen up and do your job.

  “Hey.” Nick appeared in the door frame of the pass-through between the now-closed kitchen and the bar, the rush of voices and music and bottles clinking together growing muffled as the swinging door thunked shut behind him. “Annabelle grabbed your stuff when we took you upstairs. Everything should be right here.”

  Ava let out a breath of relief at the sight of her black swing coat and her oversized work tote. “That was nice of her,” she said, trying to cage her wince at the streak of pain shooting outward from her sternum as she reached for both items.

  The dark flicker in Brennan’s eyes told her he’d seen it anyway. He looped her bag over a hook by the alcove, holding up her coat to guide it over her shoulders. “She said she hopes you feel better.”

  “Thanks, but honestly, I’m fine.” Ava slid her arms into the soft wool, a slight shiver taking over for the ache in her chest at the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck. She forced her fingers over the smooth, silver buttons, waiting until Nick was busy shrugging into his own jacket before lifting her bag from the hook.

  “Th
at’s pretty heavy.” A frown dipped at the corners of his mouth as he sent a pointed look from her bulky bag to the center of her rib cage. He took a step toward her in the hushed space at the back of the kitchen, cutting the distance between them to less than an arm’s length.

  “I’m used to it,” she said, tipping her shoulder into a shrug before her torso reminded her in no uncertain terms that using any muscles even vaguely attached to her breastbone was a shitastic idea.

  Nick took another step, close enough for her to see the unyielding set of his jaw beneath his shadowy stubble. “Not today.”

  He slipped the strap from her shoulder with careful precision, the movement surprisingly gentle considering his obvious determination. Testing the weight of the bag with one arm, he ushered her to the door with the other, and despite her distaste for being babied, realization settled deep in Ava’s belly.

  Beneath the gruff exterior he’d gained over the last seven years, Nick was a good guy. Damn it, as emotionally hairy as this little sharing session had the potential to be, she could do it. Yes, she hated the reasons she’d left Sapphire Island, and airing out her past was right up there with back-to-back root canals on her list of yes, please. But seven years ago, she’d been too young and too afraid to realize what she couldn’t avoid now.

  As much as she hated those reasons and how vulnerable they made her, Nick deserved to know the truth. Regardless of whether or not he gave her a story, Ava had cared about him.

  Even when she’d gotten on that ferry.

  “I owe you an explanation about why I left Sapphire Island without saying good-bye,” she said, falling into step next to him as they crossed the narrow stretch of asphalt along the side of the building. Brennan stopped a handful of paces away beside a silver SUV, his breath billowing around his face in the frigid night air.

  “Okay,” he said, but his shoulders hitched upward beneath his black canvas jacket, negating the word.

  “Nick?” Ava leaned forward, staring at him in the silvery light spilling down from the overhead streetlamp. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. I just . . . might’ve gotten a little impulsive upstairs. I don’t normally force information out of people. I promised to tell you what happened last week at Joe’s, and I will. But . . .” He trailed off, and all at once, the dots connected into a bigger picture.

  He felt guilty asking her to return the favor.

  “But nothing,” she said, the words soft even though her voice was firm. Digging into her past to explain why she’d left him was going to hurt, yes, but if her upbringing had taught her anything, it was how to be tough. It was past time for giving Nick answers. After all, she was asking him for honesty, and as vulnerable as the words would make her, Ava was strong enough to finally tell him the truth in return.

  “I agreed to tell you why I left seven years ago. And story or no story, you deserve to know.”

  Brennan stood across from Ava with his heart in his throat and his libido on fire. She had that gleam in her eyes, the one that had earned her that old nickname in spades, and Christ, she was as determined as she was sexy.

  Which meant that if he wanted to maintain any semblance of control around her, Brennan was screwed six ways to Sunday.

  After the initial push of adrenaline from making the deal had worn off, a thick layer of guilt had settled into its place. He might want to know what had made Ava leave seven years ago, but emotional extortion so wasn’t his thing—hell, emotional anything gave him a solid case of indigestion.

  But now Ava wanted to talk about their past, and that curveball alone was enough to shatter the composure he’d carefully reconstructed over the last twenty-four hours. That she was still fastening him with that bright green tell-all stare on top of it all? Yeah, those shattered pieces might as well be dust.

  “You don’t owe me any answers,” Brennan said, partly because it was the truth and partly to buy a second to recalibrate, but she was already shaking her head to cut him off.

  “Actually, I do. But more than that, I owe you an apology. I meant it when I said there were complicated circumstances. But that still didn’t give me the right to leave without a good-bye.”

  Ava’s voice canted lower over the last word, revealing just a sliver of the vulnerability beneath her fierce exterior, and it tugged at Brennan’s chest.

  “Let’s get in the truck,” he said, sending a covert gaze around the sparsely lit side lot. He popped the locks on the Trailblazer, opening the passenger door for Ava before rounding to the driver’s side. He might be taking cautious to a new extreme, but considering how ballsy Mike Trotter had been back in the bar, Brennan wasn’t taking any chances of being overheard.

  He started the engine, fiddling with the keys as the heat kicked on. “I looked for you,” he admitted, his muscles pinching around his spine. God, his PT session three days ago with Kat had barely nicked the surface of the ache, but he dug past his old urges for numbness, letting the pain ground him. “I even went to Virginia Beach, but no one had ever heard of you in Uniondale.”

  “That’s because I’m not from Uniondale,” Ava said quietly. “Nadine is.”

  “Your college roommate?” An image of the pixie-faced redhead whose parents ran the main restaurant at the Sapphire Island beach resort bubbled up in his memory. Nadine had insisted she hadn’t known where Ava had gone on the morning she’d disappeared, only that Ava had been fine but had to leave earlier than planned. But eight hours later, Brennan had rushed off the island himself to try to find Ava, and with the summer over and his pride run through the shredder, he’d gone straight home to Fairview two days after that. “I don’t understand. Why would you say you were from Nadine’s hometown?”

  “So I wouldn’t have to tell you I was from mine.”

  Ava’s mouth flattened into a pale line, and even though questions rushed at his brain from damn near every direction imaginable, Brennan bit them back so she could continue.

  “I told you I’d had a happy upbringing in Uniondale, but I didn’t. My brother Pete and I were raised in subsidized housing in Philadelphia. Our parents are alcoholics, and to say they were unkind is a gift. They’re terrible people, and they specialized in doing terrible things.”

  “Jesus, Ava.” His pulse thrummed with undiluted shock, chased by a hard-edged realization that made his blood run cold despite the heat now pumping through the Trailblazer’s interior. “Wait. Is that why you were so jumpy after you got hurt tonight? Did your parents hit you?”

  Her wince was so slight, he’d have missed it if he hadn’t been trained to pick up every last detail. “It was a long time ago.”

  Anger ricocheted through Brennan’s rib cage, his fingers cranking into tight fists in his lap. “Is that a yes?”

  “I told you, they’re terrible people. I had Pete, and we did our best to keep our heads down and stick together, but there wasn’t always safety in numbers.”

  Brennan opened his mouth to let loose a string of upper-level curse words—Christ, the thought of anyone putting their hands on her that way made him sick to his stomach—but Ava pressed on, as if she wanted her words out as fast as possible.

  “Everyone else on Sapphire Island came from such happy, well-off families, and I’d lived with other people’s pity my whole life. Just once, I wanted to fit in like everyone else, to finally leave that awful life behind for good. I’d been to Uniondale a few times during semester breaks, and it was easy enough to adopt it as my hometown, so just for the summer, that’s what I did. I didn’t think it would ever be anything more than a small indiscretion to save a little face.”

  Brennan forced himself to take a mental step back and focus, but with the images in his head and Ava’s tough defenses crumbling by the second, it was no easy task. “So Nadine knew?”

  Ava nodded, a swath of dark hair tumbling forward to shield her gaze. “She knew about my parents, yes, and she went along with me being from Uniondale. But she didn’t know that I went to my brother’s place in Philade
lphia when I left Sapphire Island that morning.”

  Although the parameters of their past were changing with each word, the memory of that day still jabbed at him, hard. “Why didn’t you tell her?”

  Sadness infused the tiny smile on her lips. “Because I knew you’d look for me, and that Nadine would be the first person you’d ask for help.”

  Well, hell. She’d had him pegged there. Still . . . “You could’ve trusted me with the truth instead of running away.”

  The frustration shot from Brennan’s mouth before he could water it down or haul it back. But damn it, they’d spent every waking—and sleeping—moment together for three months. Hadn’t that meant anything to her?

  “I know,” Ava said, stopping his aggravation in its tracks. “At least, I do now. But I didn’t run that summer because I didn’t trust you, Nick. I ran because I did.”

  The words, her voice, his first name, all of it hit him like a sucker punch, and he stiffened against the driver’s seat. “What?”

  “I was twenty-two years old, and had never trusted anyone in my life other than my older brother. I didn’t mean to fall for you, but . . .” She broke off, clamping down on her lower lip hard enough to leave a tiny indent. “I did, and I was scared. It’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth. I didn’t know what to do with all those feelings I had for you, and I panicked.”

  Recognition flared in the back of his mind, becoming brighter as it took hold and spread out. “So you didn’t leave because you wanted to end things?”

  “No. I left because I didn’t want to end things at all. I was just too afraid to tell you the truth about my parents, let alone face feelings I’d sworn I’d never have. It’s not like good relationships are in my wheelhouse.” Ava paused to give a humorless laugh. “I’m sure this all sounds ridiculous to you, coming from such a normal, loving family. God, it even sounds crazy to me. But—”