Bryson somehow knew it wouldn’t only be one night, though — he knew that once he sank inside her hot folds, he wouldn’t be the same ever again. Even if he was thinking with his hormones, even though his brain was trying to put the brakes on, none of that mattered.
Logic wasn’t possible in this situation.
He didn’t know how long the silence stretched out, but he eventually heard a sigh, and his groin jumped.
“It wouldn’t be wise, Bryson. There’s just…too much in the way,” she said, but he heard clear regret in her voice.
His body was going to be aching for another night, at least. Sure, he could talk her out of this — could change her mind. If he showed up, he knew she’d let him in. But then she might hate him the next day and assign him to the same miserable category as Jesse. A night of pleasure wasn’t worth that.
“Goodnight, Misty,” he whispered, thinking it was time for a ten-mile jog. Maybe he’d just extend that to a marathon.
“Goodnight, Bryson.”
He held the phone for several moments after she hung up, his fingers clasped so tightly around the device, it was a wonder it didn’t break.
Finally he set it down, then went to his bedroom and changed. He was just going to run until he passed out. That seemed the only logical solution.
Chapter Thirteen
A car stopped outside her house, and Misty’s knuckles turned white as she clutched the sides of the kitchen chair. Who would be out in this weather? She’d pulled the blinds down — storms made her even jumpier than she usually was — so when she heard footsteps outside her window, she had no idea who it might be. It couldn’t be Bryson. He was gone, out of town. And though she knew it was silly, she felt vulnerable, unprotected.
The steps stopped and there was a knock on her door.
She was frozen to her seat, barely able to move.
This could be it. Why had she been so stupid? Her cell phone was sitting there useless, completely out of juice, and the storm had knocked out the landlines. She had no way of dialing emergency services — no way of asking for help.
Calm down. It was probably the guy down the street with the little dog. He’d come by once before to ask if she had dog food. He’d run out and wasn’t going to make it to the store till the next day. Why would he have thought she’d have dog food when she didn’t have a dog? Maybe this time, he needed some milk for his cats.
“Misty? Misty Elton?”
Her head snapped upward. It wasn’t the guy down the street. And this wasn’t an FBI agent or a U.S. marshal. They wouldn’t have used her real name. With a thundering heart, she grabbed a large kitchen knife and approached the door. There was no more running — she was through with it.
*****
“How in the hell did he get her address!” Bryson was nearly panicked as he yelled into his cellular phone. “No one has that authorization!”
“Listen, I’m just telling you what I know,” Axel said, for once somewhat subdued. They’d been blindsided. “The man has connections. I don’t know what else to say.”
“Does she know yet?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid she does. She’s been told.”
“She must be a total wreck! I want to be there for her right this minute, but I’m at least an hour away,” he shouted again, almost feeling bad about taking his mood out on Axel.
“Just get there,” Axel told him.
“I will!” He hung up and pushed his car up to a hundred miles an hour. If something happened to Misty, it would be all his fault, and he would never forgive himself. Never!
Going as fast as he could in the storm that was brewing from Misty’s direction, he drove frantically down the dark freeway. Every mile he came closer to her, the wind picked up.
The road stretched on endlessly, and forty-five minutes later, his heart thundering, Bryson pulled up to Misty’s house and jumped from his vehicle when it had barely come to a stop. After rushing up the walkway, he hesitated when he reached the door, listening for any sounds.
The power was out and he could see only the flicker of candlelight through the windows. Hearing no sound was more worrisome than if he’d heard something.
The curtain fluttered and he knew someone had peeked out at him. He waited, his body tense. How was she? What was her reaction?
His heart raced as he waited. It had been a week since he’d seen her last, a few days since he’d learned about her family. Then Joseph, it seemed, had decided he’d spent enough time not knowing her, and he wanted to call on her, needed to speak to her. Joseph hadn’t even asked him first; the old man just rushed ahead, interfering — his characteristic modus operandi.
The door opened and Misty stood before him, her face pale, her eyes red from crying. This was worse than he’d thought.
“May I come in?” he asked warily, not sure what Joseph had told her — not sure if he was the last person she’d want to speak to again.
She opened the door wider without saying a word, and he stepped over the threshold, careful not to touch her yet. She looked fragile enough that one single movement might shatter her.
Following behind her as she walked into the kitchen and lit the burner on her stove top, he waited to see what she would say. At least the gas stove worked even during a power failure. It seemed to give her some form of reassurance to be doing something other than staring back at him in the semidarkness.
“This is a nasty storm,” he said, needing to break the silence.
“Yes. I lost power a little over an hour ago. When you pulled up, I’d just gotten the candles all lit so I can see around the house, now that it’s dark outside. Do you want tea? I need tea,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion as she set the kettle on top of the flame.
“Sure. I’ll have a cup.” He didn’t know what to say — this was a first for him. This woman had already been put through so much trauma, and she’d been all alone today when she’d found out the biggest news of her life. Because of him.
“What are you doing here?”
“I needed to see you.”
“You didn’t have to make the trip in this weather.”
The kettle began to whistle and she removed it from the burner, then poured hot water over the tea bags.
“Yes I did.” That was the truth. He’d needed to be with her all week. “I…I’m done trying to stay away.”
She reached into the cupboard and pulled out cookies, then leaned against the counter and, picking up her cup, took a sip of the hot liquid. She seemed so close to breaking apart that he couldn’t keep his distance any longer.
Moving next to her, he lifted a hand, placing it on her shoulder. “Tell me what happened.” If she didn’t trust him any longer, she wouldn’t say a word. He held his breath.
“I…I have no one in my life…or, at least, I’ve never had anyone all my life. I don’t…” She tried to gain control over her emotions. “I think you’re the only person in the world I trust, Bryson. I…want to talk to you, but I shouldn’t burden you.” A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.
He lifted his hand from her shoulder and ran his finger along the track that the tear had left, then cupped her cheek in his palm. His insides were twisted in knots as he watched her try to maintain control of herself. He wanted to take her agony away, bear the burden for her. “You can tell me anything, Misty. I want to listen. I want to be there for you.”
“You know I grew up in the foster-care system, that I was bounced around and around and around. The only clue to my identity was one little note that was left with me, the note that said I needed to find my brother. I never followed up on it. What was the point? I’m sure there are millions of Damiens in the world, and I didn’t even know a city for him, or a last name. I knew nothing.” Her voice was clear, almost as if she’d rehearsed her lines.
She most likely had in the time she’d had to think since her visit with Joseph had ended. This is where he should tell her the truth, Bryson thought, tell her of his involvement in all of this. But he couldn’t get the words past his throat. They just wouldn’t come. He was too afraid she’d hate him, make him go away.
“Go on,” he said instead.
“Tonight, when he showed up here, I was so frightened, afraid to answer the doorbell. But I made a promise to not run from anything anymore, so I didn’t just ignore it. I faced it,” she said, a gleam entering in her eyes during the last few words.
He broke in. “You are so strong and brave.”
She went on without acknowledging his praise. “We just stood there facing each other in silence for a moment. I almost asked if Santa was in town. He was the largest man I’ve ever run into, but with the white hair and beard and practically sparkling eyes, I wasn’t afraid. I was just in shock.”
Bryson was too tense to say anything as she paused to take a breath.
“He tells me his name is Joseph Anderson, that he’s my…cousin,” she said with disbelief. “He couldn’t be. He’s too old, for one, and how would he know I exist, for two? Or that’s what I thought until he explained it all to me. Apparently his uncle got involved with a much younger woman and then died, estranged from the family. They know my brother — Damien is real,” she said with wonder.