Surprise whips through me, locking all my muscles tight. I knew that was why she stopped liking me, but never in all these years did I think she’d ever admit to it or be sorry.
Throat thick, I turn in the circle of her arms, sliding my own around her. She stares up at me, her expression almost blank, her slim body so stiff, I know she’s bracing herself.
“I wanted you,” I say. “Jesus, Bren. I wanted you so badly, it scared the hell out of me.”
A wrinkle forms between the auburn wings of her brows. “You don’t have to say—”
“I sought you out after every gig, every practice. Why do you think I did that? Because I was attracted to you. I liked you, Berry.” My thumb strokes a circle over the small of her back. “I knew you liked me too. But Killian had made it clear he’d kill any guy who got too close, and you were so young…”
“You were young too,” she points out, high color coming over her face. “And Killian should have fucked off. He had no right to go all Victorian protector on me.”
A small laugh tickles my throat. “No, he didn’t. But you’re right. We were both young. It would have gone pear-shaped and messed with the band’s dynamic. Back then, I wasn’t willing to risk that. So I acted like an asshole to make you dislike me. I handled it badly.”
“We both did.” All the stiffness drains out of her, and she rests her head on my shoulder. But I don’t make the mistake of thinking she’s okay. A fine tremor runs through her body. I slide my hand up her back and wrap the silky length of her ponytail in my fist, knowing she likes to be held that way. It works, and she melts into me. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Ryland.”
Sometimes the guys will say my full name, mostly when they’re giving me shit; it’s what we do. But when Brenna says Ryland, it feels like a secret between us, like she’s pulled back my armor and sees the man beneath all the bullshit. I have no defense against it.
Dipping my head, I press my lips to the crown of her head and breathe her in. “I’m ashamed of that night,” I confess heedlessly. “It was my fault.”
Her voice is muffled against my chest. “Why would you think that?”
“I gave her the wrong idea. We were talking about nothing in particular, then I said something about how cool it was that she showed up at my birthday party, that I was honored, you know?”
Brenna stays silent, and I swallow audibly. “She laughed it off and said it was nice to be around people who appreciated her, that her husband didn’t have time for her.”
A sharp sound escapes Brenna, and she stiffens. I’m guessing she didn’t know that about her aunt and uncle’s relationship. I stroke her back, an automatic gesture because I don’t like upsetting her. But my words keep flowing out of me. I can’t seem to hold them back. “I was all sloppy drunk, but I remember leaning into her space and saying that she was the most beautiful woman in the world and any man who didn’t have time for her was an idiot.”
Brenna huffs out a shaky laugh. “You always were a smooth talker.”
I don’t smile. The past sits too heavily on my shoulders. “I wanted to make her feel better. And I’m not going to lie, Bren. I honestly couldn’t understand how your uncle could ignore this beautiful, intelligent woman who loved him.”
“There’s nothing wrong with any of that, Rye.”
“Yeah, well, it was a mistake, because she got a look in her eye, and it hit me that I was inches away from Killian’s mom. Your aunt. And…shit. My hand had ended up on her thigh. I didn’t even remember doing it. But I’d said those words, touched her…I wasn’t thinking. And then suddenly, she was kissing me.”
With that, Brenna pulls away. I let her go because I’m not about to hold her against her will. A frown mars the oval of her face.
“It took me too long to react,” I blurt out. “My mind went blank. And then I was so fucking horrified. I pushed away, mumbled some excuse, and got the hell out of there.” My hand shakes as I run it through my hair and clutch the back of my tight neck. “I threw up all night. I couldn’t look Killian in the eye for months.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Brenna says, quiet now, pensive.
“I should have told him. But I just…couldn’t.”
The wrinkle between her brows grows, and she turns her head to stare off into the distance. “Some things are better left unsaid.”
“Are they? Because that particular act drove a wedge between you and me for nearly a decade.”