27. Brandy

27

Brandy

T he bright morning light shone through the sheer curtains, my eyelids fluttering to adjust. I turned over, facing away from the window, then realized I wasn’t wearing any pants and shot up. Scanning the room, I froze, my hands propped behind me to keep me upright. How had I gotten in bed? The last thing I remembered was—

Flinging the comforter off of me, my bare feet hit the cold ground. I reached for the door but pulled my hand back, remembering my state of undress. I couldn’t go out there with no pants on. What if Reed was here? But why would he be? Maybe he’d only driven me home and brought me inside, and I didn’t remember taking my pants off myself and crawling under the covers.

I shook my head. No, I would’ve remembered. No matter how upset I was, I wasn’t drunk or anything. My brain still functioned.

Grabbing a pair of gray sweatpants from the chair in the corner, I tugged them on and returned to the door. I stood there, hand posed above the handle, not sure what to expect on the other side.

Thinking back on yesterday, regret hit me flat in the stomach. I shouldn’t have gone to Reed while I was reeling from my father. It was a mistake, and now it would only cause problems. Keeping things quiet and to myself was the easiest option—it prevented explanations and feelings I didn’t want to come to light. But now that Reed had seen my bruise, he’d want an explanation.

A glance down at the skin told me it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it was going to be. Three dots lined the inside of my arm, already fading.

See? Not so bad.

Nothing I should have gone to Reed about.

I’d just go out there, tell him it was a mistake, and we’d go back to whatever it was that we were before all…this. If he even was out there. For all I knew, I was overreacting and he wasn’t even under the same roof as me.

Closing my fingers around the handle, I turned it with confidence, but the feeling quickly faded as I cracked the door and found the unexpected.

Reed Bronson was sitting in my hallway, guarding my door like some kind of dog.

He looked up, his eyes gliding over my body like a caress, and I realized then that I didn’t mind him looking at me.

Maybe I actually wanted him to.

If not just for today.

No, that was too much.

Just in this moment would I enjoy his attention on me.

“Good morning.” I crossed my arms in a futile attempt to show I was irritated with his presence.

But if I was, why would I tell him good morning?

Okay, this wasn’t right. I was usually so good at being pissed at him. A pro at getting under his skin. Him holding me in the rain couldn’t have changed that much of my brain makeup. I was still me.

But maybe just a little less…guarded.

That wouldn’t do.

“What are you doing here?” I added, forcing irritation into my words.

His casual perusal of my body finally ended, his eyes focusing on my face. His hat was resting on his knee, to which he plucked it off, set it on his head, and pushed to a stand. Without shoes on, I was much, much shorter than him in his cowboy boots. He tilted his chin down, farther than he usually did, and took a step forward to set a hand on the doorframe above me.

“You fell asleep in my truck,” he stated.

I popped my hip, leaning into the frame. “And?”

“And I brought you inside.”

I angled the upper half of my body forward, enunciating each word. “Yeah. Last night.”

His free hand came up to the back of his neck, rubbing the skin as he looked down the hall. “Didn’t realize the sun was up.”

“The front window is open.” Was the man fucking blind?

Tired eyes found mine. “What happened yesterday?”

My brows shot up. “Is that what you were sitting there thinking about?”

His hand fell from his neck, a little light coming back into him. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I was thinking about all fucking night.”

When he didn’t go on, I scoffed, moving to head past him down the hall. He caught my arm, pulling me back to him. He held the limb up between us, his grip soft but his eyes rock fucking hard. “Because when you come to me crying with a fucking bruise on your arm, I’m going to fucking worry.”

I pulled my arm from his hand, dropping it to my side. “I’m so sorry I made you lose sleep. You can go home now.”

Continuing on my way down the hall, the stomp of boots on hardwood did nothing to hide him following me. “That’s not what I’m mad about.”

Heading into the kitchen, I opened the fridge to pull out a carton of milk. “I’m assuming you want me to ask what you’re so angry about.”

I set the jug down at the same time his hands slammed onto the counter. He hung his head, his shoulders hunched as he took a steadying breath.

“Do you need to make everything so difficult?” he asked quietly.

I shrugged, opening the cabinet to pull out a mug. “If it makes you leave me alone.”

“You came to me,” he reminded me.

I lifted the carton, uncapping it. “That was a mistake.”

He grabbed the milk from me, setting it down on the counter and moving in front of me. “That wasn’t a mistake. You did that because you were scared.”

I froze, unmoving as I blinked at his chest.

Scared .

I’d driven with no destination in mind and ended up at that ranch. I hadn’t expected Reed to be there—

Oh, who was I kidding? Yes, I did. I knew he’d be there, and I knew he’d make me feel better because that’s what he did. Every time we argued, bickered, picked on each other, aggravated one another, we did it because we craved something from one another, and if that’s all we got, that was enough. But yesterday, I hadn’t gone to him to fight or to use him as my punching bag. I’d gone because I needed to feel safe, and fuck, if that’s not what Reed made me feel.

And I should hate that. I should hate that because he beat a man black and blue to protect me. He ruined my high school years to keep me safe. He unknowingly isolated me from everyone but Lettie because he didn’t want to see me hurt. Violated. Raped.

And I hated him because that’s how my dad should’ve made me feel. Safe. But instead, I was at that party that night because of the man I was supposed to be protected by. I was in a situation where I was helpless because of the man that was always supposed to be there for me.

And instead of him, Reed showed up, barging into that room and making me feel safe when I wanted to feel anything but in that moment. I wanted my dad to save me from the bad men, the monster under my bed, the nightmares that kept me up at night. But instead, he was all of that to me. All the bad things in my life, my father was the root of them.

But Reed wasn’t.

“Brandy,” Reed whispered, pulling me back into the here and now. A thumb ghosted my cheek, and I flinched.

I fucking flinched .

But Reed didn’t move away. He didn’t pull his hand back. No, Reed would never hurt me, and in turn, he knew I didn’t react that way because of him.

He set his hand on my cheek, brushing a tear away with callused skin. The touch shouldn’t have made me want to lean into him, but fuck, I did. I leaned into his touch so hard that I ended up pressed against his chest, his arm snaking around my waist, pulling me closer.

What was wrong with me? Finding comfort in the man I pushed away for years, like I had a right to his bubble of safety? The net shouldn’t extend to me, and yet, it did. He wrapped it all the way around me, and I never wanted to be let go.

I just wanted someone to hold me .

His hand on my cheek threaded into my hair, cupping the back of my head as more tears fell. I was so tired of keeping everything inside.

“He wouldn’t let me see my mom,” I mumbled into his shirt.

He didn’t let go, didn’t loosen his grip. He just held me, like he knew I needed it, too.

“I tried to go inside, and that’s when he grabbed me.” My hand fisted in his shirt, resting against his hard stomach. “He told me I can’t go inside my mom’s house unless he says I can.”

Reed stood firm, his heart a steady beat under my cheek. He was the rock when all I felt was crumbling.

“I don’t want her to get hurt,” I whispered.

His hand gripped my waist. “She won’t.”

I shook my head, burying my face deeper into his shirt. I hated crying in front of people, never wanting them to see my walls break, but here I was, laid bare in front of Reed.

“She’ll never be the one to leave. It has to be him, but even if he does disappear again, he’ll come back. He always does, even if it’s years that go by.”

He was quiet, his thumb gliding back and forth over the sliver of exposed skin from where my tank top had risen a few inches. I welcomed the feeling of his skin on mine, the sensation the only thing keeping me grounded in this moment.

“You’re not going over there alone again,” he said, the words so low, I barely heard them.

“She’s my mom. I have to see her.”

“And you will.”

I pulled my face away from his chest, looking up at him. “But if I can’t go over there, how will I see her?”

“I said alone, Brandy. I’ll go with, and I’ll make sure that asshole never puts a hand on either of you again.”