Chapter 40

40

Meyra looked at the man in the lobby of the Barratt and just blinked. Brandt's hand tightened around her elbow, and he pulled her closer. She could still smell him almost on her skin despite the shower she had just taken. Of course, he had been in that shower with her. It was the first she had ever done that with a man. It had been really fun. She definitely wanted to do that again someday.

Nothing had felt like last night with Brandt. She looked up at him. "I'm not sure why they are here."

No one had told her they were coming either. Not even a text.

"Let's go find out."

"I want to stay with you." He wasn't going to be able to go back to Masterson soon. His father was out of the hospital now, but his sister's fiancé was still in the ICU and wasn't going anywhere for a while. Gunnar was going to be okay, and so was his friend Daniel McKellen, and Heather should be getting out that afternoon. But Brandt was staying to help his parents. And watch over his sister. He was very protective of her.

But that was Meyra's father and stepmother right there. And they had seen her. She couldn't hide or anything. She wouldn't anyway—she wanted to know why they were there.

Her father came over. He reached out—and shook Brandt's hand. Rhea was already coming toward Meyra. "How are your family, son?"

Rhea came to her. Meyra reached for her stepmother's hand. She always felt comfortable with Rhea. She'd never replace Meyra's mother or what she remembered of her mother, but Rhea felt like another parent. Rhea's late husband had been her dad's best friend in the entire world—she had known Rhea her entire life. Rhea loved Meyra and her sisters—and she definitely loved Meyra's father. She was already talking about when Meyra and Marin gave her grandchildren, too. And Bentley utterly adored her. "Sweetheart, you gave your father fits, taking off the way you did."

"I needed to be here with Brandt." She'd made sure her family knew where she was going and why. They understood, and it had been the right decision. But she wasn't stupid—if she'd waited and told her dad, they would have argued. It would have just wasted valuable time. "He needed me."

"I understand completely, baby girl." Rhea squeezed her hand and then let go.

"My father got out yesterday afternoon. Gunnar will still be in for a while," Brandt was saying. "We're on our way back to the hospital now. My brothers have prepared a statement for the press. I've been elected to give the interview. They ganged up on me."

Meyra slipped her hand into his without thinking, just like Rhea had her father's. Her father looked down at Meyra's hand. She saw surprise in his face. It took her a moment, but she figured it out. He hadn't realized she and Brandt were getting involved.

She'd thought Miranda or Marin would have told him. Apparently not.

Meyra suspected her father would be asking her questions later. "So why are you here, Dad?"

"I'm here in case you need me, young lady. Where else would I be? And I am here to help Brandt, if I can. Joel and his people are trying to get ahold of him." Her father was close to Brandt, she knew that. She suspected it was because Brandt had been there that day Marin had almost died—Brandt had tried to protect her sister that day, after all. And her father respected him and how hard Brandt worked toward his goals. Her father had said that before.

Her father had been making a huge effort to be a part of Meyra's and her sisters' lives since he had retired to Masterson County. Sometimes Meyra was still getting used to having him around—his butting in could get annoying. She and Marin both agreed on that. She had grown up depending on her grandmother, aunt, sisters, and cousins. Her dad had always been assigned somewhere as a diplomat; she and her sisters had grown up with their grandmother.

She really wasn't used to her father having much of a say. She loved him, and would listen to his opinions, but she was an adult. She made her own decisions. Especially about men.

Brandt was talking to her father now—and the desk clerk. He was upgrading her parents' room to a suite one floor below his family's.

Brandt was tired. She could see it in his eyes. But she suspected he would never let that stop him. He was trying to be strong for his family, but she had seen how worried he had been. Especially for his sister. He loved his family very much.

He would probably love a woman just as much, just as deeply. Her stomach clenched when she thought about that, when she realized— she was the woman this man said he wanted. The one he'd been waiting for.

Her dad was looking at her. Meyra waited. She knew he would have something to say. "Why are they looking for Brandt?"

"Two young men were found dead on the back ravine of the inn around five yesterday afternoon," her father said. "One was on Brandt's property. The other was on ours."

"Who were they?" Meyra asked, her stomach clenching.

"Police haven't released the IDs. Dylan found them. Dylan and that actor friend of hers. They were most likely killed the night before and left there."

She felt sick just thinking about that. Right there, in their backyard. Where anyone in her family could have been hurt. How had Dylan found them?

"Is Dylan okay?" Meyra shivered. Brandt pulled her tighter against him. "Is she okay?"

"She's going to be fine, in time," Rhea said. "Dixie is keeping a close eye on her sister."

Meyra nodded; that was good. Dixie was good at taking care of people when they needed it most.

"I'll call Joel as soon as I can," Brandt said. He hadn't let go of Meyra. Meyra didn't want him to. She felt safe when he held her.

Rhea nudged her father on the arm. "We're going to head upstairs. We hadn't anticipated finding you quite so soon."

"We're going to the hospital to check on Gunnar. And Heather. She's the lady who was at the inn—with the two little girls. She was hurt, too." And Meyra was worried. Everyone was talking about Heather in hushed tones. She knew something more was going on. She just couldn't figure out what it was.

"Heather works with Gunnar—my sister's, well, he's the father of my sister's baby. Heather saved their lives. My sister, my parents, all of them. We are forever in her debt."

"She was shot. Charlotte told me. Heather is still in the hospital. She almost bled to death," Meyra said. She would never forget what it had been like when Marin and Brandt had been shot by Jasper Grady. How terrified everyone had been. Marin had gotten out of the hospital that night, but Brandt—he had been hurt much, much worse.

"I hate to hear that," Rhea said. "I may have met her that evening in the dining room, I believe. With Brandt's brothers? That very beautiful woman with the long brown hair?"

"That was her—she's a bit distinctive. Powell was able to get a call out for help to Heather when those men broke into my parents' place. Heather and her family live seven or eight blocks away. Heather was instrumental in saving my family's lives. We can never repay her for what she did." Brandt's voice broke as he spoke. Meyra looked at him again. He was very expressive in how he felt about things sometimes. Probably far more than she was.

She liked that about him. How he was comfortable with how he felt. He had told her how he felt about her multiple times the night before. She believed him, too. Brandt was one of the most honest men she knew. Very much like her father. Meyra needed that—she understood that fully. She didn't always understand people and subtle interactions. She needed direct honesty.

"She's Charlotte's friend Zoey's aunt. She really looks like Zoey, too," Meyra added.

"Let me accompany you to the hospital, son. I have experience dealing with the media. I'd be happy to help. Keep the vultures away, if I can. If nothing else, I can distract them." Her father was good at that. Sometimes Meyra thought he liked to yank journalists' chains just for fun. Miranda had agreed with her before. She said her father deserved to have some fun, too. Her sister was really weird sometimes. Well, so was their father.

"Thanks. I'll admit, I hate being in front of a camera. But I lost the draw. Apparently, since I wasn't here to help them deal with everything that night, my brothers decided this is a fair division of labor."

Brandt was so easy with her father. Most men she and her sisters and cousins dated were a little afraid of her dad. Sometimes, they were a lot afraid of him. Meyra could understand why. Her dad was really tall, strong, and imposing. Even in his sixties. And he was used to being in charge.

Of course, Brandt was just as tall. People looked at him, too. And he was good at being in charge. Just like her dad. He'd probably get even better at being in charge as he got older. He was only thirty-one, after all.

They made it back to the hospital in just a few minutes. The hotel wasn't that far away.

Meyra decided that as far as small cities went, Finley Creek was okay.

She still missed home, though. But if Brandt had to travel back to Finley Creek a lot, she wouldn't mind going with him. As long as she had someone to cover the dining room or the diner, anyway. Dylan would probably do it, if Meyra asked. Dylan was always working extra shifts when she could. She said she was saving money for a secret project or something. She wouldn't tell Meyra what it was yet, though. Meyra would fully trust Dylan with her kitchens—her cousin knew what she was doing in there.

But it would be worth it, she decided. To be with him.

He never let go of her hand, except in the car.

And that was just because he opened the rear door for her. His cousin Houghton had sent a limo for them.

Brandt called Joel and told him where he would be and how to get ahold of him. And that he would look at photos of the dead men, if Joel needed him to. So that he could confirm they were some of the men who had attacked him. Apparently, the dead men met that description.

She shivered again. She definitely hadn't forgotten what had happened to Brandt that night. She never would. While he did that, she texted Dylan to see if her cousin was okay. Sometimes her dad missed things, where people were concerned. She just needed to check on Dylan for herself.

Dylan texted that she was going to be okay. But, well, Meyra would call Marin soon. Marin would tell her the truth. Marin was just as overprotective over Dylan as Meyra was.

There was a crowd in the waiting area of the lobby again. She recognized several people—including Charlotte and her friends.

Charlotte came right over to Rhea and Meyra's dad. "What are you two doing down here? Is everything okay at home?" She had her new stepmother Rory with her. Rory was good friends with Charlotte—they'd been close even before Charlotte's biological father had gotten Rory pregnant. Rory had a baby in her arms. Charlotte held another. The little girl was so tiny, not even three months old, and looked so much like Charlotte. Her twin brother looked like Charlotte's father, though. Meyra wished she could hold them.

"Hello, Rory. How are you?" Meyra had met her a lot of times before. Rory had even stayed in the family wing at the inn sometimes. She'd stayed at the inn for weeks and had given birth to the twins Charis and Chaz in Masterson County. She was part of Charlotte's family.

They made small talk for a few minutes. Meyra had never really been good at small talk—but she had learned to at least look like she could do it okay. Mostly, she remembered how to listen to what the guest was saying and respond to that quickly, rather than analyzing it too much. It was part of being an innkeeper—she'd been roleplaying with Dahlia some, so her baby cousin could learn it, too.

Now that she was an adult, and more confident in herself, she'd told her family she didn't like the front desk. And she just wanted to work the dining room and the diner, unless she absolutely had to work the desk to help out. They were good with that. Especially with Dylan, Devaney, Dahlia, and Dorie to help now. Meyra had made it her job to help Dahlia gain that confidence, too.

Still, Meyra didn't like small talk very much at all. Especially when she was worried about someone she cared about. Like she was now.

Then Brandt's mother was there.

She still looked exhausted and upset. She went right to Brandt and hugged him. She was very small, no taller than Charlotte. She had the same rich chocolate brown hair as Brandt, but she had a single gray streak at her temple. Her eyes were dark, dark brown—she looked a lot like his sister. And she looked worried. Really worried.

Something else had happened, Meyra was certain of it.

"Mom? What's wrong? Is Gunnar…Daniel?" Brandt had told her—he had known Daniel McKellen since he was a little boy. "What's happened?"

"Heather spiked a fever early this morning," his mother answered, quietly. "They've moved her into ICU. They say it's a bacterial infection. No one is allowed in, except her sister, the one who is a doctor."

Brandt let out a curse. Meyra just clung to his hand.

His mother's voice was full of tears. Meyra's heart hurt for the kind of pain she had had to go through.

Why did people do such terrible things to each other? Miranda said some people just had something broken in them and it made them do abhorrent things.

Her grandmother had called it pure evil.

Meyra felt it was probably some sort of blend of the two. She shivered and pulled her zippered hoodie tighter around her.

Brandt held his mother while she cried. Meyra hated it when people cried. It made her feel almost useless. She really didn't do anything to help, just stood there, rubbing her hands together for a long moment.

Meyra's stepmother touched her on the arm. Meyra stepped toward her. Rhea had been speaking with a handsome older man Meyra had seen at the inn before. Rhea wrapped her hand around Meyra's. Meyra really tried not to cling like a kid, but…Brandt's mother was still crying.

It hurt to see. Meyra looked at the man who was speaking to Rhea now. It took her a moment, but she finally recognized him. He had been a guest at the inn several times now. Him, and his son and grandson.

His son was a really beautiful man, too.

He was Dr. Carrington, Rhea's close friend from medical school. Dr. Carrington owned one of the biggest medical groups in the country now. He was investing in the hospital Meyra's stepmother had built. He was very nice, very distinguished. He owned two of the three hospitals in Finley Creek now, Rhea had told her that on the drive. She was intending to meet with him and his board of directors while they were in Texas this time, too.

Her gaze settled on Charlotte, who was speaking with a man who was vaguely familiar. He wore a TSP polo shirt and had blond shaggy hair. He was very good looking, but she didn't remember his name. He'd been at the inn, she thought. There were a lot of people in Finley Creek who had been at her inn.

Meyra just sort of stayed back, near Brandt, but also close to Rhea and her dad. She didn't want to be in the way.

So she stayed back and just watched.