Chapter 6 #2
Back in Charlotte, I often yearned to see the thick forests and the rounded tops in the distance. Those geographical markers were home to me.
Lakey had abandoned her post, and I was alone.
I looked around leisurely from my spot in the bed, taking the room in more thoroughly than I had the night before.
Clothes were strewn about the floor, and shoes were in a pile beside a closed door that I assumed was the closet.
A worn, navy robe hung on a single hook on the mystery door.
In the far-right corner of the room was a small bookshelf with history and nature books. I didn’t see any recognizable fiction, except for one worn novel near the bottom. It was a copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula , which made me smile.
A brown leather belt and shiny badge caught my eye on the dresser. I assumed these items were part of his work uniform. Thinking of Bram in a uniform made my heart flutter, but I pushed that feeling away.
There weren’t any pictures on the walls, but some photos in wooden frames were on top of his dresser as well.
One of them was from a weekend trip Grams had taken us on, not long after Bram had entered our lives.
We had visited a Wild West-themed amusement park located somewhere in North Carolina.
I couldn’t believe Bram had a picture of me in his bedroom.
It was a young, twelve-year-old me, but me, all the same.
He’d kept it in plain sight, even though I had no idea all these years later that I ever crossed his mind.
It made me feel thrilled and angry. He’d been seeing me all this time, every day on his dresser, and never thought to track me down?
What had kept him from getting my phone number from Whit?
It was enough to make tears form in my eyes.
The other picture was of Bram and an unknown woman standing in a tilled field, wearing sunglasses.
His arm was around her shoulders. She was tall, like me, but slim.
Her long, highlighted hair was pulled back into a high ponytail at the top of her head.
They were both wearing outdoor clothing with bright smiles. The picture didn’t look very old.
Is she Bram’s girlfriend?
He had said he was unattached, but what if that was a lie? Something to make me feel more at ease about being around him? Was I sleeping in his room, behind the mystery woman’s back?
I felt like bugs were crawling over the surface of my skin at the thought.
I tossed off the covers and pulled my pajama shorts into place.
Cold air hit my legs, and I shivered, wanting immediately back under the quilt.
But I had sobered up at the pictures and needed to leave the room immediately. I had to find out who the woman was.
I could ask him outright, but would he be upset I was snooping in his room? Was it snooping if the picture was on display?
No, of course, it isn’t. It’s fair game. Now, I was asking and answering my questions. Awesome .
I sprinted to the en-suite bathroom.
Every wall and tile was white, and the fixtures were matte black. It was a pristine space. I closed the door, used the toilet, and washed my hands. I looked at my reflection in the large mirror over the sink.
For once in my life, I wanted to wake up and not look like a bridge troll.
“Jules?” Bram’s deep voice reverberated from downstairs. I ignored his call. I scurried across the hall to the spare bedroom and looked around for my bag. It wasn’t where I’d left it by the guest bed.
“Crap,” I muttered, looking behind the door and finding nothing. I heard Bram moving up the stairs. I froze.
I don’t know why it felt like I was being caught. I only wanted my overnight bag. Yet I panicked and slammed the bedroom door shut before he could reach me.
“Julianna?” he asked, bewildered. I let out a big breath, my heart racing.
“I’m not decent!” I lied, trying to sound pleasant.
“What? Why? I put your bag in my room beside the bed. Did you not see it?”
I gasped. I didn’t think I was loud about it, but I heard him chuckle.
“It’s okay. Open the door.”
“No,” I squeaked out. “I told you I’m indecent.”
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Humiliation crawled up my neck, and a hot tingle of something between my legs appeared that was most unwelcome.
“That doesn’t mean you get to see my…my parts,” I replied, frustrated at my body’s betrayal. Bram and I were only old friends, and my libido needed to get the memo. “Brothers don’t see their sisters naked.”
“I’m not your fucking brother,” he spat in disgust, and it was my turn to laugh.
“That’s not what I heard,” I muttered, thinking about that day at the hospital.
There was silence for a moment, and I was worried I had upset him. Quickly, before I could talk myself out of it, I swung open the door.
Bram put one arm up over the doorframe, and my eyes immediately latched onto the defined muscles of his biceps and forearms. The fitted gray tee he wore hugged every part of him perfectly. His attention was fixed directly on my face. It was unfair how hot he was.
“Damn it. You’re clothed,” he said with a smirk.
I rolled my eyes.
“Great observation skills.” I pushed his chest with open palms, and the solidness under my hands was melting my resolve to forget how attractive he was.
We both knew that if he’d wanted to keep me trapped, it wouldn’t have been an issue for him.
But after a couple of non-aggressive shoves, he moved back. I headed toward his bedroom.
“You could have just told me you didn’t see the bag instead of running from me,” he called out behind me. Lakey circled my legs as I entered Bram’s room again, and sure enough, my blue weekend bag was on the floor near the bathroom. I’d walked right by it.
“I assumed it was in the other bedroom, and I closed the door because I was going to change. Simple as that.” I would not admit to him that I’d been acting ridiculous. I looked back at him down the hallway.
“I won’t argue.” He sauntered toward me. He was not guarded, not like he used to be. It made me want to know all the things that had changed to make him seem more confidently open.
“Come downstairs,” he coaxed, doing the same doorframe lean as earlier. I couldn’t look at him and remain indifferent to his presence when he stood like that. All I could picture was his bare chest and strong body doing that same move over me.
“I need to dress first,” I said, looking down at my ratty tee and pajama shorts. Usually, I would have been self-conscious about flaunting my leg cellulite in front of anyone, but I refused to let him affect me that way. We were just old friends. I did not need to try to impress him in any way.
Maybe if I kept repeating it, my mind would get the memo .
“After,” he said, slapping the doorframe like his words were final. “Lakey and I made you breakfast.”
I rolled my eyes once again, but I followed his command.
In the kitchen, Bram explained that he’d called out of work.
I felt guilty for keeping him from his life, but he assured me it was fine.
I hadn’t thought about him going to work.
My life had been turned so upside down that I had momentarily forgotten working was a thing.
I would soon have to look for employment. It wasn’t something I could put off.
He presented me with a plate of fried eggs and toast.
“It smells wonderful,” I said.
“Thanks. Fixings are there.” He pointed to the table. “Just waiting on my toast.”
I took the plate, walked to the small, rustic kitchen table, and sat.
Like upstairs, sunlight spilled through the windows and onto the kitchen floor, casting shadows unique to the time of day.
The house was drafty downstairs from the morning air, a product of its age.
I forgot how cool fall mornings were in the mountains.
Lakey sat at my feet as I spread butter on my toast, and Bram took his place across from me.
“The bread looks homemade,” I noted, picking up a glob of berry jam with a butter knife. “And the jam. Domestic much?”
He shrugged. “It’s elderberry jam.” He took a big bite of his piece, chewed, and continued. “It was given to me.”
“Given? Who makes such things?” I poured a splash of half-and-half into my coffee from the small carton he’d set on the table.
I thought it was a harmless question, but I was surprised when he squirmed a little, looking unsure.
“Just some people in town. I volunteer sometimes, and some of the ladies like to pay for the help.” He winked .
“Help? Are you carrying old women’s groceries to their cars?”
I watched as he ran a hand through his hair.
“Something like that,” he said. “That butter is local from Elson’s farm, and that elderberry jam is elderberry. It is from?—”
“Let me guess. The elders?” I laughed. Corny jokes were my specialty. The more nervous I was, the worse they became.
“Weak,” he chuckled, spreading butter on his toast, “but also cute.”
Silently pleased with myself, I took another bite.
I studied the integrity of my eggs, unable to think of one thing to say.
I wanted to ask about his volunteer work on a serious level, but would that make him uncomfortable, too?
While I was still deciding what to say, he spoke.
“Are we gonna skirt around the elephant in the room, or are we gonna talk this through?”
I sobered, slowing the chewing of my toast.
“Which elephant?” I whispered, unable to grasp which string he wanted to pull.
He chuckled. “Fair question.” He downed a gulp of hot coffee, despite the steam rising off the liquid.
I had no idea how he managed to do it without burning his tongue.
He continued, “Let’s take it one elephant at a time.
What are you doing in Roanoke for your back?
Why here? And what’s the plan? Whit only told me bits and pieces. ”