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She was crying again. I could hear the soft sound of her against the fainter sounds of traffic. I did not like that she was out running alone either. Cars on the street speeding by her, men looking at her, indigents bothering her for handouts...
“What the hell did he tell you, Ethan? What did my dad say about me?”
“I don’t want to do this on the telephone—”
“Tell. Me.” And then silence.
I closed my eyes in dread, knowing she wouldn’t accept anything but the brutal truth, hating like hell to say it to her, but knowing I had to. How to start? I didn’t know any other way than by just jumping in feet first. I sent up a silent prayer to my mum for strength.
“He told me you and Oakley dated in school. When you were seventeen Oakley made a sex video without your knowledge and spread it around. You dropped out of school and had trouble after that. The senator shipped his son off to Iraq and you came here to study and start afresh. Now the senator is trying to win an election as vice president and wants to make sure nobody ever sees the video…or hears about it. Your dad told me one of Oakley’s mates has died under an unusual circumstance and he’s worried people connected to that video may be targeted...including you. It concerned him enough that he contacted me and asked a favour—that I look after you and watch for anyone who might approach you.”
What I wouldn’t give for a cigarette right now. The silence on the other end was painful to bear but after a few interminable beats I heard the welcome sound of her saying words I wanted to hear. Words I could work with. Something I understood and could do something about. “That scares me.”
Relief washed over me hearing that. Not that she was scared but that s
he sounded like she needed me. Like she would let me back in. “I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you, baby.”
“I got a weird message on my cell phone two days ago. A man. From some newspaper. I didn’t know what to do—and then when I got your letter today I—I read what you said about calling you if anyone did something to bother me.”
The feeling of relief vanished instantly. “Enough of this shit, Brynne! Where are you right now? I’m coming to get you!” I would have crawled though the fucking mobile if the laws of physics allowed it. I needed to get to her and that was all, period. To hell with the bloody yammering, I had to have Brynne next to me in the flesh where I could put my hands on her.
“I’m at the south end of the Waterloo Bridge.”
Of course you are. I rolled my eyes. Just hearing the word Waterloo annoyed me. “I’m leaving now. Can you get over to Victoria Embankment and wait for me there? I can find you quickly that way.”
“Okay. I’ll go to the sphinx.” She sounded better to me. Less afraid and the feeling did wonders for my stress level. I was going to get my girl. She might not know that yet, but it was in fact the reality of what was about to happen.
“That’ll do. If someone approaches you just keep to the open spaces where there are people about.” I kept her on the line as she made her way to Cleopatra’s Needle on foot while I drove like a fiend and avoided London’s Finest.
“I’m here,” she said.
“Are there others around you?”
“Yes. There’s a walking tour and some couples and people with their dogs.”
“Good. I’m parking now. I’ll find you.” We ended the call.
My heart pounded in my chest as I found a place to park and started walking down to the embankment. How would this go? Would she resist me? I didn’t want to pick at our wounds, but fuck if I’d let this bloody mess go on for another day. It ended now. Today. Whatever it took to fix this cock-up got figured out right here, right now.
The sun was just starting to set when I spotted her. Her track shorts hugged her body like a second skin. She had her back to me as she leaned over the rail to look out at the river, the wind blowing her ponytail to the side, one long leg bent toward the railing with her hands resting gracefully on the top.
I slowed down because I simply wanted to soak in her image. I was finally looking at her after a week of starvation. Right in front of me. Brynne.
I needed my hands on her. They itched to hold her close and touch. But she looked different—slimmer. The nearer I got, the more visible it became. Christ, had she stopped eating in the past week? She must have dropped nearly half a stone. I stopped and stared, anger mixing with concern, but more so understanding that this shit with her past was way bigger than I’d realized up to this point. Lucky us, we can be fucked up together.
She turned around and found me. Our eyes connected and some powerful communication flowed through the breeze between us. Brynne knew how I felt. She should know. I’d told her plenty of times. She had never told me what I’d said to her though. I was still waiting to hear those three words come from her. I love you.
She said my name. I read her lips. I couldn’t hear the sound through the wind, but I saw that she did indeed speak my name. She looked about as relieved as I felt, to see her in one piece and just a few steps from each other. And utterly beautiful to me, as she always was and always had been.
But this was where I stopped. If Brynne wanted me she needed to walk over here and show me how she felt. It would kill me if she didn’t, but my dad’s advice was spot-on true. Everyone had to follow their heart. I followed mine. Now Brynne needed to do the same.
She stepped off the railing and parts inside me thudded when she paused. Almost like she waited for me to make a gesture or come and get her. No, baby. I didn’t smile and neither did she but we certainly made contact.
She had on a turquoise sports top that hugged her breasts and made me think about her naked and underneath me, my hands and mouth taking her all in. I wanted her so badly I ached. I guess that’s what falling in love will do to a person—make you ache in a way for which there is only one cure. Brynne was my cure. Images of her and me making love flashed through my head as I waited for her; the scenes of my desires haunting relentlessly with a craving that burned me from the inside out. I burned for Brynne. Mr. Keats sure knew what he was talking about in his poems.
I held out my hand and locked my eyes onto hers but my feet stayed planted. And then I saw the change. A flicker in her lovely eyes. She understood what I was asking of her. She got it. And again, I was reminded of how good we were together at the most fundamental level. Brynne got me, and that alone made my hunger for her even stronger.
She kept coming until her arm lifted. Closer still until our fingers touched, her smaller, finely formed hand resting in my much bigger one. My fingers wrapped over her wrist and palm in a firm grip and pulled her in the rest of the way. Right up against my chest, body to body. I wrapped my arms around her and buried my head in her hair. The scent I knew and craved was up my nose and in my head again. I had her. I had Brynne again.
