“So you’ve met her?”
“Soon as I found out about Connie, I called Erin. She flew out to see me two days later and brought all of Erin’s paperwork. A will, life insurance policy, and guardianship papers.” The tension tightened, squeezing his neck, twisting until he felt as if he couldn’t sit still.
Then Pixie touched him. Her soft voice brushed over him.
Brogan looked at her, unsure of what she’d said.
“It’s still difficult,” she repeated. “I understand.”
God, he hoped she’d continue to understand. Bracing himself with a deep breath, he said, “Everything Connie ownedbecame mine, but at the time, that didn’t matter much to me. Erin shared a photo of Shayna, and that little girl just grabbed my heart.” He realized then that Pixie’s small, cool hand was still on his upper arm. He didn’t just feel it there, though. He felt it everywhere, both calming his angst and igniting heat within him.
“Sorry.” Brogan got to his feet and paced away to a safer distance. “I can’t seem to sit still when I talk about this stuff.”
Pixie shifted to face forward, hugging that throw pillow a little tighter. “I understand.”
He rounded on her. “You keep saying that.” Voice a low rasp, he explained, “You don’t know, though.” Sometimes, most times, the truth tortured him. “Connie died alone because I was a bastard, not just in reality, but in personality, too.”
“No.”
“Yes.” Brogan turned away. “She had to do everything alone. Shayna’s father wasn’t there for her, and neither was I. That’s how she got killed.”
Several beats of silence passed before Pixie whispered, “Killed?”
Another reality he hated to face. “She was a single mother, like you. Her elderly neighbor watched Shayna for her when she worked at the office, though she did a lot of work at home, too. She was heading back from the office on a Friday evening when there was a fender bender that turned to road rage.”
“I don’t understand. If it was road rage, then how …?”
“Shouting first, then a fight, and that turned into shooting. A witness said Connie was trying to get around the stopped cars when a shot went wide. It came in through her passenger window.” Swallowing heavily, Brogan rasped, “She died on the scene.”
After a few beats of silence, Pixie let out a low breath. “How awful.”
“The babysitter had the number of the office for emergencies. She called, and everything got pieced together.” That hadled to his father picking up the baby. “I was named as the guardian, but Shayna went through hell because I wasn’t accessible. I didn’t get to her right away.”
“You didn’t even know your sister had a baby.”
That didn’t make it easier. Just the opposite. “She would have told me if I’d shown the least interest.” He strode to the end of the room, then started back, glancing down at Shayna as he passed. Her cheeks puffed out as she pursed her lips, maybe dreaming of her bottle, and his heart turned over. She had her arms out at her sides, her tiny hands open in a trusting pose of slumber. “Erin said Connie thought about telling me, but she was in the middle of making her will, assigning a legal guardian for Shayna, and she worried that if I knew, I’d deny her.”
“You wouldn’t have.”
Her faith was killing him. “I don’t know that. Seeing Shayna now, you’re right. I would never have rejected her. But some unknown baby?” He scrubbed both hands over his face.
Without making a sound, Pixie moved to stand before him. Though she couldn’t wrap her fingers all the way around his wrists, she still caught them and pulled down his hands. “You wouldn’t have,” she insisted.
He wanted to be the man she saw. “Erin had Connie’s hefty life insurance policy, and she also had long letters explaining what Connie wanted.”
“For Shayna’s future?”
He nodded. “I assumed it would only be about education and stuff like that. Instead, Connie wanted her protected from our father and her mother. She wanted Shayna insulated from that ugliness.” His throat tightened and he had to look away. “She wanted her to be loved.”
“Brogan.” Before he could stop her, Pixie had her arms around his waist. When he stiffened, she held him tighter, using all her meager strength.
He didn’t know what to do. Arms out at his sides, bodyrigid, he tried to sort out the bombardment of feelings. This was not an embrace of sexual intent. She didn’t stroke him, didn’t rub against him. She simply held him.
Comfort. It was comfort and itwreckedhim.
Breathing faster, he allowed his arms to close carefully around her. She was such a delicate little thing, so much smaller than he. He didn’t know what to do with this, with her.
It wasn’t until he returned her hug that she looked up at him with a smile. “I think Connie made an excellent choice.”
