26. Reed

26

Reed

W ater flooded along the side of the barn from the torrential downpour that’d started barely thirty minutes ago. We’d have to dig another drainage ditch so water runoff wouldn’t flood the stalls this winter. I tacked it on to my mental to-do list so my dad wouldn’t have to. It wasn’t hard work, but it’d take a few hours, and the last thing he needed was more on his plate.

Flicking the light off in the barn, I grabbed my bag of supplies and headed for the side door. Pulling it closed behind me, I aimed for my truck parked a dozen feet away. Muddy puddles splashed with every step, the rain drenching me head to toe in seconds. My cowboy hat did its best to shield my face, but it was futile.

Making it to my truck, I opened the door and tossed the bag on the passenger seat as I slid in behind the wheel. As my hand wrapped around the handle, I paused, hearing the familiar hum of an old Bronco trudging up the driveway.

Rain soaked the arm and shoulder of my denim jacket as I kept my grip on the door loose. The Bronco’s wipers ceased their movement, and a moment later, the purr of the engine cut off.

I waited. Waited for what felt like minutes to see if she’d step out. Speak to me. Yell at me. Anything. I couldn’t see her through the flood on her windshield, but fuck, I wanted to.

Why the fuck was she here in a storm?

Rain or shine, we all had shit to do, but Brandy couldn’t break a colt in this weather. Couldn’t put a few rides on a green horse. Her being here right now didn’t make sense. If she wanted to see Lettie, she’d have gone over to her and Bailey’s place.

Not here.

Finally, the driver’s door opened, and out stepped the girl who kept invading my goddamn mind. A part of me wanted to tell her to get the fuck out of here so I wouldn’t have to know she was out in the cold rain, but another part of me wanted to pull her in. Tell her to stay. To talk.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

The woman hated the very ground I walked on, and I was sitting here thinking it might be nice for her to be around for a change.

With a shake of my head, I pulled on the door, but then she shut her own, and I froze at the sight of her standing there.

That stiff posture she always held, the high arch of her brows, the confidence of her shoulders set back—it was all gone. Like a flame dropped in a rapidly moving river, Brandy looked defeated.

I shoved the door back open, mud spraying up around me as my boots hit the ground.

She lifted her head, those eyes I knew so well—holding so much in their gaze alone—found mine, and there was no hesitation. No question as my legs started moving toward her.

Rain pounded into me relentlessly, but nothing else mattered in this world right now besides her.

She took a few steps, but I was already there, my arms coming around her shoulders at the same time hers slipped under my jacket and around me. She squeezed me so tight, I wanted her to break a rib. To make me feel anything other than this deafening concern for her, because I didn’t know what the fuck was happening or how I ended up with Brandy Rose in my arms, but I never wanted to let go now that I had her here.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” she mumbled into my chest, and I barely heard her over the rain, but her words were loud enough to know the last one broke off.

My hand moved to cup the back of her head, holding her closer, doing my best to shield some of the rain from her. “You can always come to me. You know that.”

She shook her head, a sob shaking her body.

Fuck, she was breaking me.

“I don’t want to be alone in this anymore. I can’t—” Her sentence cut off, but she didn’t need to tell me.

My hands slid past her ears to her cheeks, and I angled her head up at me. My hat kept most of the water from hitting her in the face as I stared into her bloodshot eyes. “You’ve never been alone, Brandy. Not with me around.”

Her bottom lip popped out as another sob fell from her, a tear escaping past her eyelashes to mix with the raindrops. I brushed it away, running both my thumbs along her cheekbones. Her hands fisted in my shirt at my back, like she needed to keep her hold tight to know I was here. That she really wasn’t alone.

I wanted to ask her what happened to bring her here, but I held my tongue as a shiver rolled through her. Her sweatshirt was soaked, her jeans in the same state.

Like it was second nature, I grabbed one of her hands from my back, intertwining my fingers with hers. “Come on.”

I turned, leading her toward my truck.

“What about my car?” she asked, following me.

“I’m not letting you get behind the wheel like this, and you’re freezing.”

She jogged a little to keep up with me as we rounded the hood. I opened the passenger door for her, keeping my hand in hers until she was seated. Closing it, I went around to get in on the driver’s side. After shutting my door, I turned the key in the ignition and cranked the heater.

I peeled out of my wet jacket, tossing it in the back, then looked at her.

“What happened?” I asked, my voice low, grating.

She blinked at me, her hands folding together in her lap as her fingers couldn’t figure out what to do with themselves.

Eyeing her sweatshirt, I said, “You won’t get warm if you stay in that wet hoodie.”

Her gaze fell to her clothes as if she hadn’t even realized it was raining, then unclasped her hands to grab the hem. Lifting it over her head, she set it on her lap, leaving her in a thin white tank top. I grabbed the hoodie, tossing it in the back along with mine.

“What happened?” I repeated.

Her gaze moved to her jeans, like she was quickly regretting showing up here. “Reed—”

“What. Happened?”

Hazel galaxies of war found me, contemplating. “You have to promise me—”

“No,” I clipped, already knowing what she was going to ask.

“Reed—”

Her hands moved again, pulling my attention to them. But it wasn’t her fragile fingers that stopped my heart. It was the faint hue of blue staining dots around her forearm.

My jaw popped, and she followed my line of sight to her bruised skin. Instantly, she covered them up with her other hand.

The hurt I found in her eyes nearly killed me on the spot, so I averted my gaze to the rain rolling down the windshield.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

I grabbed the wheel, needing something to hold on to. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

She kept quiet. The only sound filling the cab the constant pounding from the storm as it battered the truck.

My hands twisted on the leather, my knuckles white. Every instinct in my body screamed to protect her, to gut whoever put their hands on her.

But I already knew who did it, and that was the fucking sad part.

She didn’t even need to say his name, and I knew exactly what demon from her past had the audacity to hurt her.

And I didn’t even want to hesitate before killing the fucker.

But I couldn’t. She wouldn’t want that.

“I’ll take you home,” I said, instead of all the other things I wanted to go on about. Like how she could go near him, knowing what he was capable of? Or not telling me she was having a problem with him?

But I wouldn’t say any of that because today, she changed. We changed. She came to me, and that’s all that mattered.

For seven years, I thought I’d lost that civil spark between the two of us, but now it might be back, and I didn’t want to ruin it again.

“What about the Bronco?” she asked.

I shifted into drive, the cab warm now with the heater blasting. “I’ll have one of my brothers bring it by your place.”

Driving past her car, I headed down the driveway toward the main road, my windshield wipers doing their best to combat the downpour, my heart doing the same as it tried to shove away my mind’s urge to drive over to her mother’s house and beat her father senseless.

It might be fucking brutal, or sick, or whatever humanity wanted to call it, but in no right fucking world should another put their hand on anyone and get away with it.

I took care of a similar problem for her before, and I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

My only fear would be to risk losing Brandy again—for good.

***

By the time I pulled up to Brandy’s house, she was dead asleep in the passenger seat. Her head lolled to the side, her long, brown hair curling as it air-dried, those plump lips parted as her chest rose and fell with each deep, slow breath.

I let the truck idle as I peeled my hands off the wheel, watching her rest. I wondered if sleep was the only time her impenetrable walls fell and her mind eased from its constant defensive mode. Was she as tired of this back and forth between the two of us as I was?

I wished I could apologize for the night I nearly beat Matt to death, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Fuck, I wanted to right now, and all her father had done was grab her arm. At least, I hoped that was all. I’d get her to tell me everything that happened in the morning, but for now, I’d let her sleep.

Pulling my phone out of the cupholder, I pulled up Lennon’s contact. I would’ve asked Bailey, but he’d tell Lettie, and I wasn’t sure if Brandy wanted her to know anything.

You think you can pick up Brandy’s Bronco at the ranch and bring it to her place?

I glanced over at Brandy’s sleeping form, wishing I could bring that sort of peace to her even when she was awake.

My phone buzzed in my hands, and I reluctantly looked away, reading the text.

Lennon Once the storm lets up, sure. Key in the car?

Should be on the front seat

My shoulders eased a fraction at his willingness to jump in and help, no questions asked. Our parents raised us to always be there for each other, and I was thankful as fuck for it.

Lennon You’ll text if she tries to kill you?

My lips pulled down in a frown.

I think the murderous stage has passed

Lennon Really? Never thought I’d see the day

I leaned back in the seat, my cheeks aching with the smile that threatened to form.

Lennon Rainbow after the storm?

I wouldn’t say it’s a rainbow yet, but the clouds parted at least

Lennon Baby steps are still steps. Just be glad you’re taking them

My eyes moved to Brandy once more, and I guessed he was right.

This was progress, no matter how small.

Then I got out of the truck after killing the engine and carried her inside, her warmth and tranquility a relief from how distraught she’d been not even an hour ago.