Chapter 10
Breezy
The snow crunches under my boots as I cross the yard, and my breath puffs white in the predawn dark. Talk about a walk of shame, Breeze.
One-night-stand-style sex with the sheep farmer in my brother’s small town, initiated and pursued by me, was not on my post-gallery-apocalypse bingo card. In fact, it’s so outside the realm of possibility I considered while fleeing New York to come here, it’s practically paranormal.
Add in that it’s five a.m., there’s a fifty percent chance of a deranged woman with a camera and a notepad sleuthing somewhere in the vicinity, and the tenuous return to a house my loudmouth brother lives in, and you’ve got a trifecta of brain-eating circumstances nipping at my heels.
Still…it was good. Mind-bending, limb-melting, Yelp-review-worthy in all the ways suggested.
But the buck has to stop there. I left Tad asleep, sprawled across his mattress with one leg out of the comforter and hair in disarray, donned last night’s clothes, and hit the icy tundra without saying goodbye to establish a baseline—I don’t want a commitment.
I don’t want a boyfriend. I don’t want expectations and responsibility.
I’ve spent my life meeting the needs of others, but this felt like meeting my own.
Tad Hanson, while incredibly handsome, charming, and all the fun things, will be nothing more than a fun distraction while I try to find all my damn marbles.
By the time I use my key to slip through Bennett’s back door, my fingers are numb and my lungs sting from the cold.
I rub at the pins and needles in my legs with closed fists and tiptoe down the hall, but the kitchen smells like coffee, and the low murmur of cartoons hums in a way that terrifies me.
Five was supposed to be before the sunrise and before the inhabitants of this house were up, but I guess with a toddler involved, nothing is guaranteed.
Unfortunately, I don’t have any options for a route to my room without passing the living room, and by the sound of things, that’s where the people are.
Okay, Breeze. Confidence is key here. Act like nothing is weird.
Straightening my spine and shaking off the nerves, I follow the noise through the kitchen and down the hall to Bennett on the couch.
The worst of two options—I’d have rather dodged Norah—but it’s fine.
His hair is mussed from sleep, he has a mug in one hand, and Autumn is in his lap.
My niece is wearing fuzzy pajamas with kittens on them, clutches a fistful of Cheerios like they’re diamonds, and her still-sleepy eyes are set to the TV.
My footsteps across the hardwood floors draw Bennett’s eyes toward me, and a slow smirk robbing him of his previous lethargy sounds all my warning alarms. “Huh. What an interesting surprise.” Murmuring to Autumn even though she pays zero attention, he taunts me.
“Aunt Breezy’s either been out super late or got up super early, and seeing as we ended last night with her headed to bed, I can’t wait to hear which it is. ”
“Well, good morning to you too,” I deadpan, unwinding my scarf and hanging my coat on a chair.
“Aha, the avoidance technique,” he says lightly, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ve used it myself, many times before.”
I shoot him a flat look. “I’ll have you know, I’m a grown woman, Ben. I don’t need you keeping tabs on me.”
“Didn’t say otherwise,” he answers, and his mouth twitches in a small but very annoying smile. “But your silence is deafening.”
I roll my eyes and flop onto the opposite end of the couch, crossing my legs and arms because the cold still tingles.
“I mean, I’m not saying Eileen Martin’s bullshit newspaper articles are ever right,” he continues, “but—”
“Shut. Up.”
“Just saying,” he adds, and his smile turns into a full-blown grin. I want to smack it right off his face. He picks up his phone with exaggerated slowness, pretending to dial. “Autumn, sweetie, say hi to Eileen.”
“Hi ya, baby!” Autumn chirps without looking away from the TV, then pops another Cheerio into her mouth.
I narrow my eyes at my very annoying brother. “I will murder you.”
Bennett lifts the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Eileen, you won’t believe this…”
“Slow. Painful. Death,” I warn.
He laughs, the bastard, before setting his phone back down. “Ah, small-town life. Gotta love it.”
“I’m starting to miss those eight million people back home who didn’t give a single shit what I was doing.”
“Shit!” Autumn crows, still staring at the little cats that are dancing across the television screen.
“Nice one, Breeze,” Bennett says, coughing to cover a laugh.
I groan. “Oh, don’t act like you’re innocent. I’ve heard you drop plenty of f-bombs.”
“Maybe,” he says. “But when Norah wakes up, I’m definitely telling her Aunt Bee expanded Autumn’s vocabulary.”
“You’re such a s-h-i-t stirrer, you know that?”
“And you love me.” He grins. “Which is why you should tell me where you were last night…” He waggles his brows like an idiot. “Did you finally find someone to rev the old engine before it never turns over again?”
“A Hanson brother,” I retort with pure sarcasm—which is a fun twist on the truth.
His laugh is so loud, I can only hope it doesn’t wake up his wife.
“Okay, okay. But for real, Breeze,” Bennett pushes after comedy hour subsides. “Where were you?”
“I took a drive.”
He quirks a brow. “Your car was here.”
“I walked, rented a car, and took a drive.”
“There aren’t any rental companies for, like, a hundred miles.”
“I took an Uber.”
Bennett chuckles. “This story has more holes than a sponge, sis.”
“And you have more questions than flipping Jeopardy.”
When I see Autumn yawn, her little body softening against Bennett’s chest, I stand up and scoop her up into my arms. “Want to come cuddle with Aunt Bee?”
“I’s seepy.” She nods, and I cuddle her closer.
“I see how it is,” Bennett calls over my shoulder. “Using my adorable daughter to avoid my questions.”
“Avoid your interrogation,” I correct.
Bennett’s soft chuckles follow us all the way down the hall to the guest room. “Bee’s woom,” Autumn mumbles before she slides her thumb into her mouth.
Her words are innocent, but they hit a mark.
My niece thinks the guest room at her parents’ house is my room—as in, I’m living with them permanently.
I know it’s been less than a week, but I really need to start figuring some shit out.
I can’t spend the rest of my life living with Norah and Bennett and facing the Red Bridge Inquisition every time I do something like slink home in yesterday’s clothes before the sun comes up.
I have a whole apartment in New York that’s now probably filled wall-to-wall with all the boxes the courier dropped off from the gallery, but that doesn’t call to me even a little bit.
Parts of this…like this moment with my sweet niece, feel right.
We curl up in the guest bed, her curls tickling my chin as she burrows into me. She cups my cheeks in her tiny hands, presses a sloppy kiss to my nose, and whispers something that sounds like “love ya” before sleep steals her away.
I let myself just…be. In this small, quiet moment I never would’ve had if life hadn’t detonated under me.
I should be panicking. Should be figuring out how to rebuild everything I lost. But instead, I hold my niece, breathe her in, and admit the other truth pounding in my chest.
Maybe I could use a little more distraction in my life…
And Tad Hanson sure did a good job of distracting me last night.