Chapter Six
She knew him.
Like the back of her hand.
And yet, did she really know him at all?
She watched him move about the rustic old kitchen with its faded wallpaper, yellowed painted cabinets, and antique knickknacks.
“Coffee?” he asked, already starting the coffee brewing.
“Sure, since you drank all my beer,” she said sarcastically.
Although he was a bit big for the kitchen, he moved around comfortably. He set down two mugs from the hutch where his mother had kept the fine china. Bryar remembered how much Sue had loved her knickknacks. She’d often visit Bryar, and they’d talk for hours about places Sue had wanted to visit. It was a shame she’d only managed to visit a few. Sue had been an amazing woman who had never allowed the LeGuard/Steel feud to blemish her thoughts.
Puma removed his hat and hooked it on the hook near the back door. His dark hair was longer and his skin was bronzed. He turned, and his eyes locked with hers, as if he knew she’d been thinking about how well his worn Wranglers fit his bottom. The last rays of sunlight filtered in through the window above the sink, catching his eyes and turning them transparent blue.
She swallowed hard.
Every day for the last ten years, she’d thought of the child born to them—the child that she had held in her arms until the nurse came and took him away. She and Puma named him Blake, after Puma’s mother’s maiden name. Sue Blake.
“Do you still drink a little coffee with your creamer?” he asked.
“I’ve cut back. Now equal parts.” She smiled despite the pain in her chest. She tried to avert her gaze as he finished fixing their coffee, yet she felt a magnetic pull towards him. He hadn’t changed, yet somehow, he had. His shoulders appeared broader, and the lines around his eyes were more pronounced. He was more dignified and masculine than before.
When he brought their mugs to the table where she sat, she had diverted her attention from him. “Nice tattoo.” She pointed to the palm-sized ink on the back of his bicep. It wasn’t until she looked closer that she saw the name Blake embedded in the inky swirls of a cross and sunshine.
Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she couldn’t break down in front of Puma. Not anymore. “Here’s mine.” She pointed to the tattoo of Blake’s footprints on the back of her shoulder. They were so tiny. “I got this right after you left.”
“I got mine a few months ago.” The catch in his tone didn’t go unnoticed by her. “I don’t think I would have ever envisioned you with ink. Does Rory know?”
She sighed. “Yes, but it took me a few years before I let him see it. Reese and I even went out of town to get our tattoos so Daddy wouldn’t find out.”
“There are times when you completely surprise me.”
She wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a good or bad statement. “What are we doing here?”
“Discussing tattoos I reckon.”
“I mean…really, what are we doing? I don’t want to pretend to be nice or have a friendly chit-chat.”
“Then let’s get down to the nitty-gritty. I never liked small talk either.” He adjusted his weight in the chair.
“Tell me why you wanted me to come here.”
He was quiet for what seemed like forever. “You and I…we agreed to spread Blake’s ashes on the tenth anniversary.” He wrapped his fingers around the back of his neck, his knuckles white and his lips thin.
“We missed it,” she ran her finger around the rim of the glass, pausing at the chip in the ceramic. Sue would have been sad over that.
“I was a bit preoccupied, or I would have been here.”
She flicked her gaze upward. “I heard you’d been busy spending time in third-world countries.”
“I’m home now.”
Out of habit, she reached down and played with the locket. The metal felt smooth and cold on her fingers. “We made that promise about the ashes so long ago.”
Puma grunted. “And you changed your mind because I wasn’t here?”
“No, because I don’t think I’m ready,” she admitted.
He swiped his fingers down his stiff jaw. “Do you remember why we agreed?”
She sipped her coffee, swallowing it as if it were fire. “I recall that we couldn’t decide whether to scatter our son’s ashes or keep them. So, we decided to wait.”
Puma reclined slightly, appearing weary. “I have a feeling Rory was behind wanting to wait.”
“Puma…
“Yeah, yeah, I already know what you’ll say. We shouldn’t dive back into the past, especially regarding our fathers. Unfortunately, your dad is still winning.”
“What does that mean?” she gritted out.
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Your life is on pause as you still take care of him. You couldn’t even get a tattoo for fear of his disappointment.”
“He didn’t choose to have a stroke,” she sighed. “But that’s not what you’re talking about. You’re accusing me of choosing him over us.”
“If the shoe fits…”
She squared her shoulders. “We have a different opinion on what transpired back then.”
“That means one of us is wrong.” His gaze darkened a shade.
Bryar planted her palms flat against the cool mahogany table, needing stability. “I didn’t choose, Puma. We were kids. We didn’t know what we wanted.”
One brow popped up over his striking blue eyes. “You can deny what we had all you want, but we both know your father broke us up. He made you choose, and like the doting daughter, you gave in.” There was a dangerous lilt to his tone. He carried a lot of bitterness inside him.
“Why are we rehashing this? It’s done. We can’t change the past.”
“Keep telling yourself those lies, but we both know the past is the elephant in the room.” He practically growled the words.
She jumped up, spilling her coffee onto the table. “I wish I hadn’t come. I knew it would be a waste of time.” She turned toward the door, but he was out of his chair, positioning himself between her and the exit.
“Running away again? You’re quite good at that,” he remarked in a murky tone.
Bryar wanted to avoid his gaze, but like a moth drawn to light, she lifted her chin and met his intense expression. Her heart raced so quickly that she feared it might leap from her chest and land at their feet. “It’s ironic that you accuse me of running away, considering you left Shades Cove less than a month after our son passed. How dare you blame me for running when you seized your chance to escape.”
She realized she had hurt him. He tilted his head, calling her by her nickname, “Bry.” It sounded strained and unfamiliar coming from him. “We agreed, before Blake was born, that we would escape this town and our overbearing fathers. You were on board that the best way to do that was for me to join the military. We saw it as our escape plan.”
“The most crucial part of all this is that we never imagined…” She struggled to articulate her thoughts.
“Our son would die. Just say it,” he urged.
She averted her gaze to the ground, longing to run— to do anything to escape. She hesitated to face her intense emotions. “You might have accepted the loss, but I need my time.”
“It’s been ten years. A whole decade. You can try to avoid the decisions we made back then, but you can’t evade laying our son to rest. I won’t allow it. You’ve had ten years to come to terms with doing what we should have done a long time ago. If you can’t, then I will.”
*****
The Bryar he remembered had been a brunette with bronze highlights and a constant, easy smile. She radiated sunshine and fresh air, her laughter accompanied by charming dimples. She’d been kind and exuded an innocence that attracted everyone around her.
The only similarity between the young Bryar he once knew and the current version was in her eyes, which were so blue they nearly appeared silver.
The lips that once curved into a smile were now set in a frown, devoid of the cute, carefree dimples or the spark that had made her special. She wore a single slender braid in her hair. Her dark eyebrows were furrowed, and she wore dark eyeshadow around those striking eyes that silently pinned him to the wall.
Each ear had a row of piercings, and a small diamond glistened from her right nostril. The sundress was about the only soft thing about her—it was white with pale blue flowers, featuring a feminine cut that hugged her womanly curves, which she hadn’t had ten years ago. The lacy-trimmed top exposed the tops of her breasts. He’d never considered himself to be a tits man, but he did consider himself a Bryar man. Everything about her set him on fire with need. Even now, even after all the pain they’d shared.
A snarl sounded low in her chest. “Don’t come back and start making demands.”
He exhaled slowly. “What happened? Has life been so unkind to you that it stole all your radiance?”
“Great way to make a girl feel pretty,” she said with a glimpse of a smile.
“Don’t get me wrong, you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but you always found the positive in everything.” He lifted a tendril of her hair, wrapping it around his knuckle before allowing it to drop back into the thick mass at her cheek.
“There’s just something so glamorous about taking care of an ill father, losing a mother, having a brother in prison, and running a failing business that makes a girl feel all perky,” she said sarcastically.
He didn’t realize things were so tough on her. What Puma didn’t know was that the family bar, which had once been a thriving business, was now failing. Lane failed to mention that particular aspect to Puma. Or maybe Lane had no clue how things really were. He’d been locked up for a while, and a lot could change in that time.
“Lane believes you’re in trouble,” Puma said softly.
“Why does this concern you? Lane should have never involved you in our business.”
This oppressive feeling of guilt nearly brought Puma to his knees. Feelings like this weren’t good for a man who’d promised to protect her always. He shook his head and slammed his hand through his hair. “Still as stubborn as a mule.”
Bryar shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve become quite good at handling my own issues.”
“Even those who are independent need help at times.”
“Don’t count on it,” she said bitterly.
“Why didn’t you file for divorce?”
“Please, don’t…”
“Please don’t what? This involves me too.” He took a step toward her.
She held up her hand. “Don’t come any closer, buddy.”
His throat jerked. “Do you not trust me or yourself?”
“You.”
Puma felt uneasy about the accusation in her words, yet he recognized the deep pain she still bore. He noticed the flickering embers in her eyes. Not wanting to put any more pressure on her or delve deeper into the invisible wound, he took a step back. “There’s still a lot we need to resolve,” he said calmly.
“What you refer to as unresolved matters, I see as a history I have no wish to revisit,” she replied, circling him.
“We’re not done yet, Bry. Think of this as unresolved business.”
“Why don’t you do us both a favor and stay away from me,” she said and strode out of the house.
He stared at the door for a long time. How the hell could he make things right between them?
Maybe he just needed to leave her alone, yet even as he debated the idea he knew it wouldn’t be his optimal solution.