Chapter 6
Chapter Six
brIELLE
I set the steaming cup of tea on the wooden railing beside me, watching as the surface ripples. With a sigh, I focus on the rising sun. Today, it paints the sky in purples and oranges, casting a warm glow on everything it touches. It turns the snow still clinging to the highest peaks an odd shade of silver. The prairie that surrounds the guest house sways in the early breeze. I tuck my nose into my sweater. It might be the beginning of June, but mornings are still chilly.
Three days I’ve been hiding out in my temporary living situation. Three days of Melissa checking that I’m really all right while Emily bursts at the seams from wanting to know what had clearly happened between me and her brother. Sure, I’d explained it away to Emily as just wanting to settle in. But it’s just a matter of time until she walks across the clearing and asks me how I know her brother.
Had I used the time to unpack and find places for the small amount of things I brought with me? Yes. Had I spent an entire afternoon doing the online equivalent of shopping until I dropped? Absolutely. But neither of those were the reason I hadn’t come up with the courage to venture past the cleared pasture immediately surrounding the guest house.
Goddamn, it should be illegal for him to have become more attractive over the last ten years. Seeing him in jeans and that black tee was a far cry from the formal suit I’d last seen him wear. And the barn where we were unsaddling our horses was just about the opposite of the funeral where I’d last seen him—with his newborn son in his arms and a delicate, shattered-looking strawberry blonde woman clinging to him as people offered their condolences for Brandon’s death.
And the fucking tattoos ? He hadn’t had a single one that summer I’d been tangled up with him. Now both his arms are complete sleeves, the black ink mixing with earthy tones, twisting around his skin in patterns I want to learn and trace and memorize.
Lavender explodes around me, thick and overwhelming, but I ignore it.
No, the reason I’ve been hiding out has everything to do with the man I convinced myself I had gotten over when he broke up with me ten years ago. Not even convinced, really. I had moved on from him. Met someone else, married them, and built the urban version of the white picket fence and everything.
“All the good it did you,” I mutter. I palm the mug and sit on the railing, leaning against the support beam wedged up against the house. “At least his heartache was a clean break.”
Didn’t doctors say a clean break was better for healing?
Of course, not much really could be worse than the absolute bullshit that Brett put me through. Sighing, I close my eyes and let my head drop back. Fuck, I need to think about anything other than Brett. Half of why I moved out here was to move on from him, find a place that had never been touched by him, poisoned by him.
Against my better judgment, I let the picture of Ethan in the Monroe barn fill my mind again, trying to remember the details of his tattoos. At least it’s better than thinking about Brett fucking her . Except all it seems to do is highlight that deep need sitting just below my skin, ready to overwhelm me with its itching intensity.
The aroma of my scent turns acidic, and I swallow the lump in my throat, letting the thoughts of Ethan fall away, too. Someone clears their throat, and I glance over my shoulder. And then blush when I realize it’s Emily. A young boy with bright blond hair holds onto her hand, his eyes a deep blue that reminds me of sapphires. His hair is nearly identical to Melissa’s. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who he must be. I wait to be introduced to him, though, just in case.
“You good?” Emily asks, leaning against the porch’s support column.
When I shrug, her eyebrows furrow and she frowns.
Before she can say anything, the boy pulls away from her and waves.
“Hi, I’m Cam,” he says. “I’m four. Aunt Emily said we were going hiking today while Dad looks at the horses.”
I offer a smile and say, “Nice to meet you. I’m Brielle.”
He nods. “Aunt Emily said you’re Aunt Mel’s friend even though you’re staying with her and not Mel.” He frowns, his eyebrows furrowing, a line appearing between them. It’s so cute, I can’t help but smile again—without forcing it this time.
“Melissa doesn’t have a guest house,” Emily says, humor lighting her voice. “Brielle’s waiting until the fall to find her own house.”
The boy doesn’t say anything to that, his head tilting as he stares at me for a minute longer. Then he shrugs and drops Emily’s hand. He takes a couple steps away before picking one of the wildflowers blooming in the open valley. I let my smile drop away, the fleeting moment of happiness already ebbing away from me.
The breeze picks up just as she steps onto the porch, pushing my scent away from us both, hiding my secret for a bit longer.
Thank. God.
She sits on the swinging bench seat, her eyes watchful as she focuses on Camden. I want to ask about him, but it seems insensitive.
“You can ask,” she says, like she can read my mind. I raise an eyebrow and play ignorant.
“Ask what?” I keep my voice light.
She cocks an eyebrow as she looks over at me. Camden grabs another flower before sprinting several feet away. “About him.”
I purse my lips, and she laughs.
“Or don’t. Just figured I could relieve your curiosity while Melissa’s busy. But you’re welcome to ask her about him, too, if you’d like. Just not around Ethan. It’s still…” Her lips twist, and she shrugs. “Just don’t ask about Camden in front of him.”
I tuck away that bit of information. “He was Brandon’s?”
I don’t know why that’s the question I start with.
“Yep,” Emily says.
“Do you normally watch him during the week?”
She shakes her head. “I’m third option,” she says, keeping her voice low enough the little boy doesn’t seem to hear her. “My mom’s first, then Joan. But Mom’s in Jackson with Dad today, and Joan had someone call out at the coffee house.”
She glances at me before focusing on Camden again, like she knows the scrutiny makes me uncomfortable.
Damn, it’s an adjustment being around an unbonded Alpha again. Especially now that I’m not suppressed. I run my fingers through my hair.
“And that setup only happens during fire season when Caleb’s getting called out with little notice. During the year, Caleb typically has an open schedule. I think he’s planning on taking on some more off season work this year when Camden starts school, but it hasn’t become family official.”
“Family official?” I ask.
“Meaning they’ve announced it to the family,” she offers. “Once something is family official, it’s the mark that they’re serious about whatever it is. Mom is…” She hums. “Not really sure there’s a term for it. But if you tell her something is happening, she’ll throw herself into it with everything she is. So we don’t mention things to her until we’re sure they’re happening. Family official.”
That made sense. I haven’t actually seen Lynn since moving back. But the woman I spent a decent chunk of time with that summer certainly didn’t give half of herself to a project. She was all or nothing. I don’t suppose time would have changed that, really.
Thinking of her reminds me of Ethan. Again. Nerves settle in my belly.
Will Emily ask about him this time?
I can’t quite manage to remember how to breathe as the silence stretches longer. Eventually, she shrugs.
Her voice is louder, carrying across the meadow when she says, “Anyway, Camden and I thought you might want some company.”
Camden glances up from the small bouquet he’s managed to gather, a mixture of yellow and white flowers pressed into his palm. He grins and starts toward us, the foraging forgotten.
As he gets to the stairs of the porch, he says, “Here.”
He holds out the flowers, a dimple flashing in his cheek as he smiles. I drop from the railing, landing on mostly solid legs, and cross the porch.
“Brielle?” He trips over my name, the vowels merging and the “r” not quite sounding right.
“You can call me Bri,” I offer.
“Bri.” He still mangles the “r” just a bit, but I don’t say anything. As I take the group of flowers, he asks, “What’s your favorite color?”
“Purple.”
He frowns. “Oh. Sorry these aren’t purple.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. Want to help me put them in a vase?”
He nods, smiling, though his eyes are still serious. He follows me into the small guest house. Emily stands and closes the door behind him. Her eyes track over me, assessing me in one quick, unnerving sweep. I ignore it and focus on filling a small decorative vase from the living room with water. Camden puts each flower into it, his tongue sticking out in concentration. I can’t help but smile.
When they’re all arranged, he nods and asks, “Do you like hiking?”
“I haven’t hiked in a long time,” I tell him. “Let me get my shoes on, and we’ll go find out.”