Whiteout

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sinjin was gone, but Hera lay there, warming her feet. At the first sign Breanna was awake, the dog moved up on the bed, nudging her with her nose for a morning cuddle. She rubbed her thick winter coat, gazing out the window. There was nothing to see there. The world had disappeared, towering pines and grand mountain vistas obscured by streams of billowing white.

She sighed. “Guess we won’t be seeing our man anytime soon, will we, girl?”

Hera blinked her ice-blue eyes, then proceeded to lick her paws.

Breanna forced herself to sit up. The room smelled of sex and Sinjin. And she missed him. The warmth of his body, his breath on her neck, his fingers tangled up in her hair.

Once upon a time, she laughed at all those lovesick girls who made decisions with their vaginas. She’d been wrong, though. Her brain might be bruised—okay, and her vagina, too—but her heart worked just fine, and there was no mistaking its message. I love him.

Sinjin was her only constant, an anchor amidst this churning maelstrom of uncertainty. He told her to listen to her gut, and she was. And with all of her decision-making organs in agreement, including her addled brain, Breanna got out of bed to take a shower.

The bruise on her forehead was all but gone now, only a trace of sickly yellow remained. Easy fix. As much as she loved experimenting with the latest makeup trends, Breanna preferred a natural look and went minimal with it.

Ready to get dressed, she came out of the ensuite in her underwear to find Sinjin sitting on her bed, a tray with breakfast beside him. “Goddamn, you’re beautiful.”

He reached for her hand, and dragging her to his lap, he kissed her.

His hair was still damp, the long ends hanging in his eyes. Wearing old, faded jeans and an everyday Henley, this was the Sinjin she loved best.

Breanna lifted the lid off the food—omelets, pancakes, and crispy hash browns. “Mm, it smells so good.”

“It does, but you smell even better.” Nuzzling his nose into her neck, he nipped at her skin. “Let’s eat. Then you’re going to finish getting dressed so we can call your mom.”

“It’s not like she can see if I have clothes on or not.” She giggled.

He smirked. “We’re going to FaceTime her.”

“Jesus, Sinjin.” She got up from his lap, dragging her fingers through her hair. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Why? Because you think she’ll be mad at you?”

“Because I’m mad at her!” Breanna clapped her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“Never apologize to anyone for the way you feel, least of all to me.”

“But I screamed at you. I didn’t mean—”

“I like it when you scream.” His head tipped to the side, and he smirked. “Course, I’d rather be naked and inside you while you’re doing it.”

“I’d rather you were,” she said, worrying her lip. “I hate confrontation.”

“No one likes it.”

Right. Pursing her lips to the side, she shot him a look.

“That’s different. I’m an attorney. I get paid to like it.” Sinjin reached for her, pulling her to stand between his legs.

“Secrets and lies,” she muttered, mostly to herself.

He glanced up at her, rubbing his fingers over the back of her hand. “Maybe she had good reason.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, baby, but it’s well past time to find out, don’t you think?” With a gentle squeeze of her fingers, he tugged on her arm. “Come on, it’s your mom.”

“Okay.”

“There’s my girl,” Sinjin praised, as Breanna settled back on his lap. “Now, eat your pancakes.”

She wiped the sweat from her palms on her leggings, rubbing her hands up and down along her thighs. Sinjin set her MacBook down on the table in front of her and sat down next to her, out of view of the camera. “Ready?”

“You’re not going to change your shirt?” Breanna assessed his casual look, patting at the buttons of the cardigan she wore over her understated cami.

“No, why?” He glanced down at his chest. “Is something wrong with this one?”

Yeah, Bree, you loved him in his Henley a minute ago.

“No, it’s just not very lawyerish, is all.”

The sound of deep laughter bellowed from his throat.

With a flip of her hair, she said in all seriousness, “You’re the one who said you’d talk to my mom as my attorney.”

“I’m your man above all else, princess.” He pressed a kiss to her lips and winked. “And trust me, I don’t need the suit to look lawyerish. Come on, now. You’re stalling.”

Breanna nodded and, blowing out a breath, she pulled up the FaceTime app. “Hi, Mom.”

“Bree, honey,” Sarah Benjamin exclaimed, and without stopping to take a breath, kept right on talking. “Your dad already left for work and Ethan’s at school. He’s going to be so bummed he wasn’t here when you called. He misses his big sissy.”

“I miss him, too. Tell him I’ll call back tonight when I can talk to him and Dad.”

“You’re back in class today, too, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yeah.” It wasn’t a lie. As soon as this call was over and done with, she’d log in.

Her mom tipped her head to one side and then the other, inspecting the image on her screen. “Where are you?”

Sinjin squeezed her thigh.

“Dalton House.”

What does it look like right before someone has an apoplectic fit? Because Breanna was sure her mom was about to have one. No doubt frozen in shock, not a muscle in her face twitched, and then she gave her head a little shake as if she hadn’t heard her right.

“Mom, let me explain,” she pleaded.

“Get your grandmother.”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?” Sarah slammed her hand down like she meant business. “I want to speak to Valerie. Now!”

“You can’t,” Breanna said. She bit her lip, slowly shaking her head. “She’s dead.”

“What?” Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper and judging by the look on her mother’s face, she hadn’t known before now.

“That’s why I’m here.”

Sarah, digesting the news, stared off to the side. Whatever she might be thinking, Breanna couldn’t decipher it.

“I got a letter from her attorney asking me to come here,” she continued. “I thought Valerie wanted to see me and—”

“Which attorney?” Refocused, her head turned back to the camera.

Quickly glancing at Sinjin, Breanna answered, “Derek St. John.”

“Let me guess, Raymond’s son?”

“Yes.”

“Breanna.” Her mom expelled a breath, raking her fingers through her long blonde hair, making a mess of it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I learned not to talk about my father or his family a long, long time ago.” It felt like a cotton ball was stuck in the back of her throat. Breanna picked up a bottle of water from the table and took a drink. “Any time I asked about him, it always made you sad, so I just didn’t.”

“I loved Shane and…” Pausing, Sarah traced her fingers back and forth along her collarbone. Her blue eyes filled. “I still don’t understand why you went there by yourself or why the attorney didn’t contact me.”

Secrets and lies. It was time to get everything out in the open. No matter how painful it might be, this conversation was long overdue.

“Oh, I don’t know, Mom. Maybe because I’m Valerie’s granddaughter. Maybe because Derek knew you’d keep it from me, just like you have everything else.”

“That’s not fair, Breanna. You don’t know—”

Not fair?

She smirked. “I didn’t, but I do now.”

“How long have you been there?” Her eyes narrowing, Sarah crossed her arms over her chest.

Breanna lifted her chin, looking her mom right in the eye. “I left Portland the day after classes let out for Thanksgiving break.”

“I thought you were with Kayleigh. You lied to me.”

“You lied to me.”

More like she withheld the truth from her, but isn’t that the same thing?

After a moment of tenable silence, her mother blinked and tipped her head to the side. “Wait…you drove there?”

“Yeah. I got into a little accident, but it’s okay. I’m fine and my car’s being fixed. Sinjin helped—”

“Who the hell is Sinjin?” She was yelling now.

“I am.” He scooted over, and under her mother’s watchful gaze, his arm came around her shoulders. “Hello, Mrs. Benjamin. Ian Maynard. Remember me? We spoke on the phone.”

What in the actual fuck?

Breanna’s head snapped up. She glared at him. Sinjin and her mother talked? When? What for? And why had he never mentioned it?

Sarah nodded. “Can you tell me what happened, Mr. Maynard, and please, start at the beginning?”

“Certainly,” he said, his tone business-like. “Valerie suffered a stroke and passed away in September.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Quite sure. An autopsy was done.” Sinjin glanced her way. “She named Breanna as executor of her estate, and so, Mr. St. John contacted her and asked her to Dalton House. I imagine he didn’t want to convey the sad news of her grandmother’s passing by telephone.”

“No one contacted me,” her mother reiterated once again.

His mouth curved into that smirk she was all too familiar with. “Breanna’s an adult.”

“And I’m her mother. Valerie and I co-manage the trust fund her father left for her.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” Fingertips pressing into her shoulder, Sinjin tipped his head. “Breanna, however, was not.”

“I didn’t spend any of my daughter’s money, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I know you didn’t. You couldn’t even if you wanted to.”

“Both your grandmother and I had to authorize any withdrawals,” Sarah explained, looking at her daughter. “We both agreed to help you with the down payment on your car, and your tuition, of course. You’ll control your own money when you graduate, get married, or turn twenty-five—whichever comes first. Valerie wanted you to grow up like every other average kid, and not some spoiled princess. I agreed with her.”

Pffft.

Breanna rolled her eyes. “You didn’t even like her!”

“Not always, no, but when it came to you, she had your best interests at heart.” Nodding, her mother worried her lip.

She still didn’t understand, and that only made her angrier. “Then why did you keep us apart?”

Her mother sighed. “To protect you.”

“Protect me?”

“Valerie and Lawrence were afraid for you.” A tear snaking its way down her cheek, Sarah wrung her hands. “See, they knew they’d never be able to prove it, but your grandparents swore your father’s death was no accident.”

“And you were the only Dalton left,” Sinjin murmured, as if suddenly it all made sense. “What did they think happened?”

“Lawrence suspected someone tampered with the car,” she said, swiping at the wetness on her face.

“Who?”

Her mom shrugged. “I don’t know, but Valerie never trusted Raymond. She told me so. Of course, Lawrence didn’t want to hear it.”

“They were close. Longtime friends.” His finger rubbing over his upper lip, Sinjin nodded.

“I know all about it.” Sarah sniggered, the timbre of her voice venomous. “The Daltons and St. Johns go way back.”

“This is all so fucked up.” Shaking her head, unbidden tears rushed from Breanna’s eyes.

Sinjin’s fingers swept through her hair. “Shhh, everything’s going to be all right, princess.”

Her mother’s eyes widened. “Valerie kept Breanna away from Dalton House for a reason, Mr. Maynard. I need to know my daughter is safe.”

“Ian. Please,” he insisted, and gazing at Breanna tenderly continued to stroke her hair. “Raymond died three years ago. You don’t have to worry about him.”

“And yet Valerie still feared for her, Ian.”

He looked at her mom then. “I’ve got her, Mrs. Benjamin—”

“Sarah.”

“Breanna is safe with me, Sarah,” Sinjin assured her. “I promise.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” She didn’t seem convinced.

Breanna held her hand up. “Mom, enough.”

“I’m going to talk to your dad when he gets home. We can fly up as soon—”

“No. Don’t. I’ll be fine. I can handle this.” Vehemently, she shook her head. “Besides, I’m coming home for Christmas.”

“I hate seeing you so upset, honey.” Wringing her hands some more, her mother bit into her lip.

Breanna sniffled and took in a breath. “It’s just that I grew up thinking my grandmother didn’t care to even see me…”

“She saw you.” Closing her teary eyes, her mom softly smiled. “Once.”

“When?”

Her eyes opened. “Remember the summer we went up to Tahoe?”

“She was there?”

Sarah nodded. “At the pool. She came by and gave you and your brother a strawberry ice cream cone.”

With Sinjin squeezing her hand, Breanna closed her eyes and tried to pull the memory of it from her subconscious. She came up blank.

“I’m so sorry, honey.”

Yeah, I am too.